


Lost Not Forgotten

by HVL



Series: To Be Human [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Friendship/Love, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Multi, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Parent Bucky Barnes, Parent Natasha Romanov, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Spies & Secret Agents, Tony Stark Feels, mfm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-10-19 02:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 76
Words: 666,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20649371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HVL/pseuds/HVL
Summary: Daughter of the Red Room, slave of Hydra, servant of the KGB, agent of SHIELD and finally, Avenger, Natasha Romanoff has faced multiple traumas in her lifetime including the brutal excoriation of her memories along with her will by those seeking to appropriate her and her skills to serve their whims—Natasha Romanoff has been made, unmade, then re-made over and over again.In the aftermath of her savage incarceration at the hands of The Mandarin, Natasha comes to face to face with some brutal truths about herself—including some that reinforce her belief that she’s a monster.Now, she has one goal—to regain that which has been taken from her no matter who gets in her way.





	1. Sawbones

**Chapter One**

**Sawbones**

**Natasha**

_One of them had impaled her._

_Her side burned at the reminder. The punch of the blade pushing through her flesh, the near razor smoothness hadn’t hurt at all. It was like it happened to someone else, but she’d felt the blood rush from her body, the ice spreading through her extremities and she’d stared down at the bridge aware that she was all that had stood between Pepper and being taken._

_Then Pepper had screamed._

_“It is important that you complete the trials.”_

_“Yeah? What trials? His little Mandarin House of Horrors?” She took another bite._

_“It is a trial of the dragon.”_

_“Well the dragon can shove it up his snout,” she told him, then took another bite._

_“I’m afraid you don’t understand. You have been chosen for this honor.” Yeah, it felt like she’d been chosen. “To embrace the dragon is to know wisdom and grace, to be admitted to the halls of the worthy…”_

_“Are you sure you’re not Asgardian? Cause I’ll tell you what I told him—I don’t need the answer to that question.”_

_ “What life does your master want?”_

_The monk blinked at her slowly._

_“Or should I ask you what you want?”_

_The man’s smile grew. “You are the worthiest of opponents, Widow.” The monk passed his hand over his face and the features shifted and changed. Then The Mandarin stared at her. “What betrayed me?”_

_“You were playing it a little too heavy-handed. The monk before never lifted his hands from his legs.” No, he had sat rock still, his formal language never varying. This one… close, but no cigar._

_The Mandarin smiled. “Very observant.” He glanced around the room. “You have created a difficulty for me.”_

_“Really?” She finished wiping her fingers and tossed the cloth back onto the tray. She began to flex the muscles in her legs to warm them. He knelt between her and the open door. He wasn’t shackled, not to mention, he looked well-rested. “Sucks to be you.”_

_“If your enemy is secure at all points, be prepared for him. If he is in superior strength, evade him. If your opponent is temperamental, seek to irritate him. Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant. If he is taking his ease, give him no rest. If his forces are united, separate them. If sovereign and subject are in accord, put division between them. Attack him where he is unprepared, appear where you are not expected.” _

_“Did you get your copy of The Art of War in the embossed illustrated version or the Cliffs’ Notes?”_

_Smiling, The Mandarin eyed her. “Your tongue is almost as cutting as your blades.”_

_“I hear I’ve got a talented one, shame to waste it.” He won their last fight because he used something to hold her still. The rings on his hands, one for each finger, drew the eye but he didn’t shift his posture as he settled his hands against his thighs._

_“I hoped that by engaging you, I could persuade you to continue. The game—after all—requires two players.”_

_“But I’m not the player in your game, am I?” She challenged him. “You put me here as the pawn…”_

_“…and the prize,” he reminded her. “Better I think than what Tony Stark took from me in the first place. But it is not a victory until I have won it.”_

_“So…it really pisses on your day that I don’t want to play anymore? Damn, I can’t tell you how broken up about that I am.”_

_The Mandarin sighed. “I had really rather hoped to keep this civil.”_

_She didn’t scoff. She didn’t have time to. He flung out his hand and lightning struck her. The sizzle of it rolled over her even as her system jerked and she slammed her head back against the wall. The metal in her hand heated and the shocks rolled over her._

_Still buzzing, she looked up as he rose. “This could have one much easier, but perhaps this will be a lesson for both of you.”_

_Lightning crawled over her. Shocking. Burning. Twisting._

_ “I don’t suppose you have a gun?” It was a pointless question for Remy._

_“I don’t like guns, Boo. Besides—you got me. I’m better than any gun.”_

_The corridor seemed empty, the chain of rooms going on through a couple of doorways. “Stay together. Cover Tony.”_

_“Red…”_

_She flicked her fingers at both of them. “Cover Tony, I’ll take care of me. Get him out. That’s the first priority.”_

_“Romanoff… you and me? That talk. It’s not going to be fun.”_

_She snorted. “Shellhead, we make it out of here, you can say anything you want to me. But you have to be alive to say it.”_

_Not wasting time, she checked her four. All dead. Remy’s still had a pulse, she didn’t waste time, she just snapped the downed monk’s neck then moved to the one Tony had set down._

_“Red…”_

_“Not leaving them behind us.” She met his gaze fiercely. “Move, Tony.”_

_“This isn’t you,” he tried._

_But she snorted and put a foot on either side of the man’s downed head, gripped with her ankles and twisted. His neck snapped as she held Tony’s gaze. “This is exactly who I am.”_

The brush of fingers against her shoulder catapulted Natasha from a nightmare to attack, she gripped the hand touching her, and had her legs locked around them even as she twisted and tackled them over, her right hand drawn back to strike before her eyes even opened only to meet pale blue eyes regarding her evenly as James relaxed in her grip offering no fight.

Dropping his hand, she disentangled herself and launched off the bed and not stopping until she’d backed all the way to the wall. James kept his hands spread, palms facing her as he sat up slowly. Steve was visible in the doorway to the bathroom, concern etched into every line of his face.

_Fuck_.

She tapped her head against the wall three times as she got her breathing under control.

“Tony called,” James said, slowly as he remained on the edge of the bed. “Dr. Strange is here.”

Weariness settled in her bones even as her heart hammered. The adrenaline dump had her skin buzzing, awareness of every breath they took scraping across her.

The first question that skated out from behind the thunder of her pulse was who the hell was Doctor Strange? But the answer followed right after and she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The tension in her muscles threatened to cramp her hands, she could almost feel the weight of the chain she’d gripped for hours—or was it days?

“Now?” She finally managed in a voice that sounded reasonably even.

“He can wait,” Steve told her. When she opened her eyes she found him waiting in the doorway to the bathroom. He hadn’t taken a single step.

Thankfully, neither one asked if she was okay or all right or any other platitude.

She definitely wasn’t any of the above.

Licking her lips, she straightened, unclenching her fists with real effort and then pushing away from the wall. Crossing to the dresser, she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

“I’m standing up, Doll,” James said quietly. She tilted her head enough to catch him in her periphery, then nodded once before opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of yoga pants. She stared at them for a minute, then glanced at her closet. Tact gear would make her more comfortable.

But she probably had to go to medical.

Which meant nothing with metal.

Pants in hand, she closed the drawer and turned. James stood at the side of the bed and Steve still stood in the door to the bathroom.

“Are you done in there?”

He dropped the hand towel on the counter with a swift nod and stepped out. She waited until he’d reached the bed before she angled her path straight for the bathroom, avoiding any contact and once inside she shut the door and leaned back against it. The all too brief sensation of relief bottled beneath the suffocation of being shut into a room.

The door wasn’t locked.

The door wasn’t locked.

She repeated the internal mantra as she set the pants on the side of the sink, then glanced at herself in the mirror.

Bruises lined one of her cheeks. Her throat was still wrapped in bandages, the mottling of the skin visible above and below. If she lifted her shirt, she’d see all the bruises along her chest. There was another around her left ankle, fading rapidly, but still there.

Her eyes?

She ignored them. The physiological responses were just that—responses to the combination of overwhelming stimuli and the sudden absence of the same stimuli. She’d been on a tumultuous seesaw of sensation for days. It would take time to level out.

Turning on the water, she ran it cold then cupped a handful and splashed her face with it. Then again. And again. A part of her wanted to fill the tub with water and ice and submerge herself in it.

_The chain pulled taut as the water closed over her head. Six minutes._

_She could last six minutes._

_Five._

_Four._

_Three._

Shutting the water off abruptly, she picked up Steve’s discarded hand towel and wiped her face. Slowly. Then she pulled on the pants, slowly, and with great care balancing herself with one hand on the vanity. Her breathing evened slowly at an almost plodding speed.

With her fingers, she combed through curls. Her hair hung unevenly. A missing chunk of hair for along the right side of her face left her lopsided. She opened a drawer and pulled out a hair tie, then gathered it all up and pulled it up into a messy ponytail to hide the damage.

She’d cut the rest of it later.

Closing her eyes again, she forced her breathing to regulate and shut off the burning sting turning over in her gut at the idea of having to cut her hair. It was just hair. She changed it all the time. It was as malleable as the rest of her. The silence from beyond the door to the bedroom crushed in on her and she closed the drawer, checked her appearance again, then pulled the door open and shut off the light.

The bedroom was empty.

They were giving her space.

Returning to her closet, she pulled two knives off the shelves. Securing one sheath to her lower back, she tightened the strap across her abdomen. Then she checked her access. It was fine.

The second, she strapped to her right calf. The loose yoga pants hid it well enough. But she didn’t actually care if anyone knew she was armed. Glancing at her gun safe, she debated a Glock. She could put on a shoulder holster, then slip a hoodie over it.

A dragged step behind her alerted her to James’ return to the bedroom. Glancing over her shoulder, she found him standing at the foot of the bed, about seven feet from the entrance to the closet. He had his hands loose at his sides.

“I’m—” The apology wouldn’t unstick itself from the roof of her mouth. She’d attacked him.

“I touched you when you said not to,” James told her carefully, his tone dead neutral. “I tried to rouse you with your name, but you didn’t hear me. So I touched your shoulder.”

She nodded once.

“You didn’t hurt me, Natalia.”

A little shrug, and she glanced back at the gun cabinet. Entering the combination, she opened it and pulled the gun and holster out. James said nothing as she slipped it on, and then covered it all with Tony's oversized dark gray hoodie, he must have left it in her closet again, before she closed the safe door.

Facing him, she slid her hands into the pockets of the hoodie. “I’m ready.” She’d take off the weapons if she absolutely had to, but she didn’t know the doctor and right now, the weight of the gun pressing against her side made her feel better.

“You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to,” James told her, irritation ruffling some of the neutrality in his tone.

“After the weeks of looking for him?” She arched a brow. “No. I’ll talk to him. He just better be worth what Tony thinks he is.”

Or she would be aggravated.

A single nod.

Without waiting for her, he lead the way to the door but she didn’t miss the brief tightening of his expression. She hadn’t moved until he did. Fuck, did she have a problem with James at her back?

Since when?

The dreams were too fresh. Her head ached. Her body hurt. And the rest of her?

She was a mess. That was what she’d told Steve. Speaking of…

He wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. The door to his bedroom stood open and it was quiet.

“He went up to meet the doctor and to let them know you would be a minute.”

Licking her lips, she nodded. “Did I….”

“Doll, Stevie is fine. He gets it. He went to tell them to put a sock in it, nothing more.”

She nodded before glancing at the elevator. As much as she didn’t want to go to medical better to just rip the Band-Aid off. James waited for her, patience cooling the air around him. When she headed for the elevator, he moved ahead. He let her be at his back, even if she seemed reticent to let him be at hers. The doors opened at their arrival and he moved inside and to the corner as she took the other one, then folded her arms as she leaned against the wall.

“The penthouse, please,” James said.

Surprise flickered through her.

“Meeting him, Doll. Not letting him treat you until we have your consent.” And got a damn good look at him, his tone implied even if he didn’t say the words aloud.

Letting out a shaky breath, she doubled over and out her hands on her thighs. “Halt elevator.”

It glided to a stop.

James said nothing as she forced herself to breathe. Then she lifted her head and faced him. “I really didn’t want to go to medical.”

“I know,” he said, his voice absolutely gentle. “No one is forcing you. I promise you. _No one_ will.” Despite the gentleness, a core of steel underlay the words.

Straightening, she let out a shaking breath then nodded. “How long did I actually sleep?”

“Forty-five minutes,” James told her balefully. “You’re exhausted, Natalia. We can go right back to Stevie’s floor. We can go to _your_ floor. We can leave the fucking Tower and go anywhere you want.”

No. No they couldn’t. “This guy can tell us what’s wrong with my brain.” Maybe something beyond decades of head scrambling had left her damaged irreparably and her memory a joke.

That would be nice.

“Great, he can also make an appointment,” James told her and she almost smiled.

“James… I know you want to know as much as I do.”

“I want you alive and safe,” James told her. “Everything else can wait.”

_“Mama…_”

“No,” she told him. “Tony won’t let me have access to BARF until this guy clears me. I need more pieces to find Mary… has Logan called?”

A shake of his head.

“Then we go.” Shifting her stance, she moved toward him and held out her hand. The need to touch warred with the need for distance. They’d had so much distance. She couldn’t embrace it. Not even when her skin hummed like her very bones vibrated. He threaded his fingers with hers easily and she pressed her forehead to his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Never apologize,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “I mean it Natalia, you never have to apologize to me.”

“Maybe I want to,” she told him, lifting her head to meet his gaze as she stroked her thumb against the cool metal of his hand. He could have taken her hand in his right, but she’d held out her right hand and he’d given her his left. It left his right hand free and she savored the contact with him no matter which hand she held. He knew that.

The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened with his smile. “Anything you want.”

“You keep being this agreeable, you’ll spoil me.” It was light, maybe too light considering their often-bloodied history, but his smile only grew. Lifting their joined hands, he kissed her fingers not once looking away from her. Every movement telegraphed.

“Good,” he murmured against her fingertips.

Her palms went a little sweaty and a trickle of it slid down between her shoulder blades but she refused to let him go.

“I’m ready,” she told him.

“You are certain?” He searched her gaze.

She nodded once. No, she absolutely wasn’t, but she could handle it. That was the part that mattered. This was another step on the path to finding Mary. The cost was irrelevant.

“Resume, Friday,” she said. “Please.”

“Of course, Ms. Romanoff.”

She held his gaze as the elevator ascended without releasing his hand, but when they slowed to a stop, the doors didn’t open immediately. Friday waited until Natasha faced them before they slid apart.

The rumble of conversation silenced almost immediately. Natasha swept the room with a look. Tony stood near his naked tree, which leaned at a terrifically bad angle, arms folded and expression fierce as he faced a slightly taller man, also with dark hair flecked with hints of gray near his temples and sporting a goatee.

The suggestion of mirroring ended there though. Doctor _Strange_ gave her an assessing look as she and James exited the elevator. Steve stood near the dining table, arms folded as he leaned against it. His expression softened a fraction when he caught sight of her, but he kept most of his attention on the doctor, as did James going so far as to stand slightly in front of her but near enough to be at her side.

The doctor—if that was what he was—wore the most obscure of outfits. A quilted tunic of a shirt, a flowing red cape, and boots that came up to his knees over a pair of legging like pants. The necklace he wore, gold and heavy, seemed almost too simple and ornate in the same breath.

“Tony,” she said slowly, shifting her gaze to include him in her line of sight. “I thought neurosurgeon meant high tech, not leeches.” At least the jangling in her nerves had settled some and the hum along her skin quieted.

The doctor snorted. “I can assure you, Ms. Romanoff, I do not work with leeches. I also do not perform surgery.”

“Then what do you do?”

“Red, he’s—here to offer us his expertise,” Tony said with a shake of his head. “A consult. Nothing more.”

This should be good. “I can hardly wait.” Tired slammed into her in waves, but she ignored it, locking her legs and staring at the doctor.

“As I was explaining to Mr. Stark,” the doctor said. “And the good captain there, I don’t practice any longer.” He held up his heavily scarred hands, a flash of gold across two fingers of his left hand riveted her. “I understand the serious nature of the request and based on the impossible scan…” the doctor nodded toward James. “He and Mr. Barton gave Christine, I get you wanted my attention. You have it.”

“I wanted _you_ here to help _her_…” Tony said, closing the distance slightly. “Money isn’t an object and I know how much of yours you’ve poured into repairing your hands though, after your arrival, I’m assuming you found _other_ methods.”

“I don’t work for you, Mr. Stark,” the doctor said. “And even if I did, this would be a conversation between me and the patient.” The doctor flicked a look back to her. “You are the patient, correct?”

“Not a very good one,” she said, snapping her gaze up to his face. “Nice scars by the way. My brain looks like that according to the scans I’ve seen of it. If you can’t or won’t help, we don’t need to have this or any other conversation.”

She didn’t like doctors to begin with and this one looked like he’d been drawn right out of _Lord of the Rings_. Or maybe _Dungeons and Dragons._

Mad scientist or mad sorcerer?

Really didn’t see an upside on either.

“Then again,” she continued just as Tony opened his mouth. “A man like you doesn’t make some grand appearance to tell us to fuck off, you can’t help. We obviously couldn’t track you down, so—why _are_ you here? Unless the scans really _did_ intrigue you?”

With a sigh, the doctor strode around the sofa toward her. James stiffened and the shift of his weight went to the balls of his feet. He was ready to move every bit as much as she was. The gold on the doctor’s left hand flashed again. Sweat soaked the back of her neck. She unzipped the hoodie, loath to sweat her way through it.

When he was three feet away, the light hit the rectangular shape covering his index and middle finger on his left hand. One ring, two bands. The Mandarin’s had been individual rings, octagonal and rectangular in shape. The pattern on the doctor’s ring wasn’t ornate, as if the hammered metal had been through the wringer.

“Woah, Red!”

“Natalia…”

“Angel…”

Her gun was pointed right at the doctor’s head and he’d gone still, his eyes narrowed. His damaged hands were up slightly, but there was a spark around his hand.

“Ms. Romanoff…?”

“Lose the ring.”

His eyebrows skyrocketed. Steve and Tony were halfway to her and they both went still. Next to her, James shifted his weight again.

“I beg your pardon?” The doctor’s tone suggested she’d made an offensive comment.

“Lose the ring. Take it off. Put it in your pocket. Swallow it for all I care. But lose the damn thing.” The weight of the Glock in her palm was a comfort she hadn’t even realized she needed.

“The sling ring isn’t a weapon.”

“I didn’t ask if it was a weapon, I said lose it.” She only had to squeeze the trigger. “I’ve had my fill of rings this week.”

He eyed her carefully, then James before returning his gaze to hers. “I’m going to take it off and put it in a pouch on my belt. Acceptable?”

She nodded once. Her arm didn’t twitch, her aim rock steady. At this distance, she would take out the entire back half of his skull with the exit wound. He slid the ring off, his gaze never leaving hers. The movement was visible in her periphery. Then the flash of gold vanished and he raised both of his hands.

First, he showed her his palms then the back of his hands.

With a nod, she took a single step back and reholstered the gun.

“Rings are an interesting thing to trigger PTSD, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Not if you’ve been tortured with them.” The doctor was still too damn close.

“I’m pulling out my phone,” he told her and like her, his focus didn’t shift.

At her nod, he reached behind him and pulled out the smartphone from his back pocket. Huh. Medieval pants had back pockets? Who knew?

Phone in hand, the doctor pulled up an image. It was one of her CT scans. “This is your brain?” The skepticism in his voice demanded an answer.

It looked like the scan from when they’d returned from the island. The black striations bisecting the brain weren’t supposed to be there. “As far as I know…” she said with a shrug. “Friday…holo screen with my most recent CT scans for the doc.”

A screen appeared to her left and Strange glanced from her to it. His eyes narrowed as he studied it. “Can we enhance the thalamus?”

“Do it, Baby Girl,” Tony said. He and Steve had crossed the room to join them, not that she or James had made it more than a few steps from the still open elevator doors.

“What symptoms have you been experiencing?” Strange asked, cutting a glance from the scan to her. “Besides the intense bruising and obvious signs of recent combat which I presume includes repeated head injuries.”

Folding her arms, she glanced at Tony. “Give him the file.”

“You sure?” Tony frowned.

“Questioning your judgment already?” Another wave of tired hit, her hands were starting to tremble so she kept them tucked down.

Strange loosened his cloak and swung it to the side where it stood, of its own accord, just hanging in the air.

“Not sure,” Tony said his gaze riveted on the cloak then Strange. “Just wasn’t expecting this.”

“You can read my whole file…” she began.

The doctor shook his head, “No, I want to know what symptoms you’re experiencing right now. Your eyes are dilated, you’re pale, sweating and there are tremors in your hands. You obviously have PTSD and have been in a recent battle. I’m aware of _who_ you are Ms. Romanoff, I did read the papers.”

Well, so much for covering that up. “You want to have this conversation I need coffee or vodka. Maybe both.”

“You’ll get coffee,” Tony told her. “You tossed all my liquor.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “It’s easier for you to stay sober if you’re not surrounded by it.”

He made a face.

“Nat,” Steve said quietly. “Come sit down? I’m assuming the doctor is interested enough to explore the case which means you should rest.”

A part of her wanted to argue. She’d stand on her own feet. She’d survived days of torture and extreme conditions. Sitting on a sofa or a chair would hardly be some balm for all of that, but it was just stubbornness on her part. Some distant part of her mind acknowledged that.

Strange lifted a finger into her line of sight and it took everything she had not to pull a knife and put it through his hand.

“You were zoning out, Ms. Romanoff. Do you often have fugues?”

Not answering she pointed him toward the sofas. “After you.”

She would not allow that man to be at her back.

He studied her for a beat, then pivoted, the cloak practically floated along behind him.

James took two steps after him and she followed. The elevator doors closed. Steve’s frown deepened, but she circled the room and settled in a chair that had her back mostly to the tree and didn’t really allow the room for someone to sit with her. Tony returned with mugs, and a huge carafe of coffee. He poured one for her then the guys. It wouldn’t do them much good—it was too weak—but they took it anyway.

_Suck it up, Natasha. This guy can clear you for BARF. That gets you a step closer to Mary. _Logan might have info, but Logan had his own issues and the fact he’d never mentioned their first meeting left her with more questions. Why hadn’t she asked him when she’d seen him at the fortress?

_Because you had other things on your mind._

“You wanted to know my symptoms—long-term or recent?” Focusing on the doctor, she did her best to not look at Steve or James where they’d taken positions between she and the doctor, she didn’t want to worry them but she also couldn’t take the weight of their concern at the moment. Tony, she couldn’t avoid, because he stood just behind the sofa, his attention split between her and the doc.

_He had a plan?_

_“Yeah…don’t kill me.” Then he kissed her, slow, deep, and breath-stealing. His fingers were in her hair as he held her still and her mouth parted Surprise rippled through her and she stilled for a long minute as his tongue swept against hers. He tasted like coffee. The sensation registered slowly, the scent of sweat and coffee twining around them along with hints of his cologne. It was almost like being at the Tower. _

_Home._

“Based on what I’m seeing here, you shouldn’t even be able to have a conversation with me. I’ve never seen this kind of scarring on a living, cognitively-aware patient before.”

“Yay me,” she murmured, then set her cup down. Then she repeated her earlier question, “Recent or long-term?”

The sense of disconnectedness wouldn’t go away. She didn’t want to be here or to have this conversation, but what she’d said to James held true.

_“Mama.”_

She had to know.

This was the doctor Tony insisted was the best, the one who could tell them what to do.

But the doc didn’t seem as certain.

A chime from the elevator pulled her attention. Clint arrived wearing a frown and he crossed the room, pausing a beat to stare at the cloak just hovering in the air before he circled to stand near her.

“I thought we were getting a doctor, not a wizard,” Clint murmured.

Natasha shrugged. “Apparently not—he’s a doctor and a wizard, if he could time travel I’d say he was The Doctor.”

“Who?” Clint said, the corner of his mouth kicking up and she snickered. The laughter burst through some of the numbness.

“If you two are done,” the doctor said dryly.

“Not even close,” Clint said without missing a beat.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Natasha told him as she pulled her feet up into the chair and sat cross-legged. It put her ankle sheath in reach.

“Conventionally, you shouldn’t be functioning right now, since you are,” Strange told her. “I’m going to assume you’re not quite human.”

“Probably not, no,” she said with another shrug. She’d been a monster for far too long.

_Not wasting time, she checked her four. All dead. Remy’s still had a pulse, she didn’t waste time, she just snapped the downed monk’s neck then moved to the one Tony had set down._

_“Red…”_

_“Not leaving them behind us.” She met his gaze fiercely. “Move, Tony.”_

_“This isn’t you,” he tried._

_But she snorted and put a foot one either side of the man’s downed head, gripped with her ankles and twisted. His neck snapped as she held Tony’s gaze. “This is exactly who I am.”_

“The question then becomes, how was this damage inflicted?”

“Problem, I don’t remember a lot of it. Some I do—a few thousand volts of targeted electricity over the course of several years coupled with chemical enhancers and narcotics. I can’t be more explicit. A secondary machine that…set against a table with some kind of neural probes, something they said I helped calibrate…something more fine-tuned. I’d know if I saw it, but I don’t know specifically what they did.”

_Liar._ She remembered the cutting, the pain, the saw…

Her stomach rolled, and she pulled a knee up to her chest and forced herself to breathe.

“There was radiation bombardment. An alien used me to hitch a ride home when he drained my cells…pretty sure the black marks there weren’t there before that but…I don’t know.” What had she said about her past? It was a horror show of epic horror show proportions?

Strange stared at her intently.

“At some point, I was programmed with trigger words—some were successful, not all. I’ve got mental blocks against huge portions of my memory, some targeted and specific, other just swaths of time.”

“Mental blocks, that makes sense from the damage to the thalamus and hippocampal formations. Some of these appear to have almost surgical precision, and while there still appears to be electrical activity, it’s not going anywhere.”

“Which means there’s a clog?” Neuroscience. Maybe she should buy some books. Spend a few days reading because talking to Strange was like pulling teeth and she was about as cooperative as she could be at the moment.

“Ms. Romanoff, I’m not prepared to give you an answer when I barely understand the methodology and the effect. You show signs of multiple strokes, repeated head trauma, traumatic brain injury, post-concussion syndrome just to start with. Any _one_ of those could lead to severe health complications including failed cognitive function, severe headaches, light sensitivity, nausea, seizures, and impaired memory functions—that you can even converse seems like a miracle. I assume you have some form of Captain Rogers’ serum.”

Not a question she wanted to answer.

“You don’t have to say anything, it’s obvious if anyone looks at the medical records, however, you want to know if there is a clog—your memory is impaired?”

“Severely.”

The fact the guys sat there saying nothing was both eerie and comforting. She half-expected Tony to try and take over, he’d been reading her files for weeks. Clint knew about…

“I’ve also had moments where I slip, like I’m not me anymore.”

“Fugue states.”

Pulling her other knee up, she hugged them both to her chest. “Sometimes. It’s like I’m a more primal me. It may have nothing to do with this.”

“But it’s another symptom.”

“Sure, we can call it that.” Her voice flattened even to her own ears.

“Recent symptoms?”

“Flashbacks. Scalding pain like someone is sticking an ice pick through my eye. A tonal ringing noise that escalates to excruciating. Then…shards of memories—sometimes I can hold onto them. Sometimes I can’t. I had a seizure…” She frowned. How… “How long was I gone?”

She swept her gaze over the guys.

“It was a little over ten days ago,” Tony said. “Unless you had any while you were…” He hesitated.

“Maybe. I know my nose bled a couple of times. I remembered things.” She gave a shrug. “But with everything else, I don’t know if I’d know.”

The words _I don’t know_ tasted hateful on her tongue.

“So I had at least one seizure ten days ago, I’ve endured oxygen deprivation and chemically induced pain including the use of a paralytic recently as well. I have had some auditory and visual hallucinations.”

Strange braced an elbow against his knee, his hand over his mouth as he stared at her. He was going to ask her for more tests. But instead of saying anything, he studied her then the scan again.

“Do you have one of these from before the alien encounter?” The sober inquiry almost made her laugh. Course, the guy had a floating cloak. Aliens probably didn’t sound so weird to him. Then again, aliens had tried to invade New York.

Did they? She glanced at Tony. “I had a scan done…the full scans right before.”

He nodded. “You can authorize him to look at them if you want.” Was Tony really second-guessing himself? The deep well of concern filtering through his eyes threatened to drown her.

“Friday…?”

“Of course, Ms. Romanoff.”

The image changed and Strange squinted at it. The black lines weren’t there, but she didn’t know enough about these scans to read them that well. As it was, her eyes burned. She considered the coffee then stretched her hand out to grab it.

“I need to do some research and I’m going to need more tests.”

Surprise.

She took a sip of the coffee.

“I’ll be honest, you’re not in the best line of work considering the nature of these injuries.” Strange studied her again. “But even from the scans, I can tell you’ve had these injuries for a long time, you’re functional, cognitively aware, obviously intelligent and your reflexes are sharp, so what are you hoping to gain by seeking treatment?”

“I want to use a machine to help stimulate my memories to get them back. When we used it before it helped restore neural function, about 4%. Tony won’t let me use it without a neuro specialist signing off that I am cognitively functional enough to handle it.”

“That’s not what I said, Red,” Tony told her, annoyance scraping over the words. “You went into a coma last time.”

“I woke up.”

Steve sighed. The weight of his concern shoved down on her and she didn’t dare look at the reproach that had to be sitting in James’ eyes.

“Yeah, Tash, that’s not helping your case,” Clint said quietly.

“Natalia also had a concussion,” James offered.

“She still has one. At least when this scan was taken and this second one, I see elements of it. How many concussions have you had?”

“Recently?” At least three she could think of.

“I think that answers the question. I need to study these scans and do some research. I’m assuming your serum enhances your healing?” The doctor liked to assume things.

She just stared at him.

“You can choose to not answer me,” he said. “But I don’t care if the answer is yes or no, what I care about is putting together a comprehensive profile.”

“Yes, I heal faster.”

“Do you know how much faster?”

Sliding her feet to the floor, she stood abruptly and lifted her shirt to show the fading scar on her abdomen where the sword went through her. “I got stabbed a week ago give or take. So about that fast. Though I healed faster than normal.”

“But you still scar.” He motioned to the second one her abdomen, the scar from where James shot her.

“Depends on the injury. The longer it goes untreated, the blood loss…” She shrugged. “Scars aren’t life threatening.”

She dropped her shirt and sat again.

“So physical injuries heal, but not neurological.”

“There was a suggested theory,” Tony said. “That she could heal most of the outstanding issues if she were not constantly re-injured.”

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.

“Not the right business for that.”

Steve shifted his weight and she glanced up to find him giving her a small smile.

_“You might be in the wrong business…”_

She answered him with a small one of her own. “Look, Doctor Strange…” Yeah, that name was weird. “I don’t know if you can help. But I need my memories back and I’ve been…waiting a while. Some of them are breaking loose…”

“Have you had a scan since those began to surface?”

“No.”

“Have you tried inducing one?”

“A memory?”

He nodded once.

“Yes,” she said. “Apparently, I had a seizure.”

Tony grimaced.

“We may need to do that again—while you’re being scanned.”

Tests.

_“Cut her again. We need to test how swiftly she heals, this time—leave the knife in.”_

“Not today.” She twisted to glance out the windows at the city. The sun was hidden behind gray clouds and the world looked dreary. But it was still daytime. “Maybe not tomorrow. We probably have U.N. meetings.”

Tony snapped his gaze to her. “No,” he said firmly. “We don’t.”

Was next weekend Christmas?

Glancing back at the doctor, she said, “And you should decide ahead of time all the tests you want because I’m only going in there once to do it.”

_“Put her back in.”_

“I’ll do my best,” Strange said slowly, his gaze still speculative.

“We also have access to other resources,” Steve said, glancing at her again. “Maybe less invasive ones.”

“As do I, Captain Rogers.”

Tony straightened. “Right now, what do you recommend?”

_“You’ll have to forgive me,” the secretary said as she lay prone on the table. “You’ve helped us calibrate this device for the last few years and it’s proven essential in both of our successes.”_

“I told you, I’m not prepared to speculate. Ms. Romanoff presents with a unique case, one I’ve never seen before. Frankly, it may be beyond even what I can do, but until I study these scans, conduct a few more tests, and do my research, I’m not prepared to answer that. I would recommend rest, in a controlled environment with full monitoring.”

“That would be too stressful,” Tony told him even as Steve simply said, “Rest yes, and some monitoring, fine.”

They were already monitoring her. Hadn’t that been the problem?

_“Mama.”_

“I need a break.” Natasha pushed out of the chair and crossed the floor toward the elevator. The doors glided open and she was inside, hitting the button for her floor and the doors closed leaving her alone inside the elevator as it descended.

She could just go to the ground floor and leave. There was a safe house in Queens. Steve and James knew where that was.

There was another one in Jersey.

Or she could go north to Canada.

Apparently going north to Canada was her thing.

Pain raked through her.

“Ms. Romanoff…”

“Not now, Friday. Just not now. Full privacy mode.”

The doors opened to her floor and she made her way toward her room, then into her closet and finally into a corner where she could sit with her back against the wall. The door was open, so it wasn’t a cage.

But the whole damn Tower was a cage.

A fortress.

Rat in a maze.

_“We will require more tests. Rebreak her arm.” _

Rubbing her hands against her face, Natasha grimaced at the pain sparking along her nerves. The bruises ached. But it wasn’t just that. The damn numbness swallowed her, blanketing her like a clear wall against the world. She was on the inside; everything else was out there.

The chime of the elevator told her someone followed.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the wall.

The slight hitch to the step.

Clint.

A faint smile pulled at her as she released a huff of a laugh. Always Clint.

“You’re never going to let me get far, are you?”

“Nope,” he said, dropping to sit on the edge of her bed. “No can do. I don’t mind if you run, just need to keep an eye on your back.”

“I’m fine, Clint. I’m on my floor, inside the Tower, with an overprotective group of friends…”

“Family,” he corrected. “Your location is not why I’m watching your back, Kid. You’ve been through Hell the last few days.”

Another shrug. “It wasn’t that new.”

“That’s the problem,” he said quietly. “Every man up there is worried about you.”

“Not every man.”

“Yeah, I’m not counting the wizard with the floating cloak—and what the hell, did anything in his profile say magic man to you?”

“Nope, just a God complex like most surgeons,” she said, giving him a quirk of a smile. “I attacked James when he tried to wake me up.”

“Okay. I think he can take it.”

She shook her head. “Not the point.”

“Right now? Totally the point.” Clint stared at her steadily. “Do you remember when he popped Steve in the face because Steve told him he had no choices, and you got right between them—you put your hand on his chest and just kept telling him to stand down until he woke up?”

That had been in Switzerland. “James wasn’t himself then.”

“And you’re not yourself right now,” Clint told her, his voice almost gentle. “You warned us…Jedi mind tricks?”

“Oh, you got that message.” Huh. Good to know.

“I got all your messages, Tash.”

“I feel so wrong right now…” She could tell Clint that.

“I know, Kid.”

“I don’t know how to not feel wrong…” She’d told them she loved them. Clint. James. Steve. The only one she hadn’t told…

“Hey, you _just_ got out of there.”

Had she?”

“You’re exhausted, Tasha.”

More than a little.

“They’re not going to let me use BARF.”

Maybe she could hijack the code. Tony had given her authorizations, even if it was compartmentalized…

“Not yet, no…” He sighed. “Can I convince you to come sleep for a little while?”

“If I sleep, I dream…”

“I’ll stay,” he told her. “Or I can get one of your boys…”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Nat…”

“No.” She met his gaze. “I almost hurt James and he was just trying to wake me up. I need… I need to be alone.”

“That’s the last damn thing you need,” he said, and then sighed. “Please don’t ask me to leave you like this. I know everyone walked all over you and you let us—me included. You said you wouldn’t go back into a cell for me, not again. I’d _never_ ask you to do that. But don’t ask me to leave you like this. That’s not how we work, Tash.”

No. It wasn’t.

“Idiot.”

“Probably, so I’m just going to sit here with you. Okay?”

The elevator chimed and a smile pulled at her lips. “You’re about to have company.”

“Yeah,” Clint said with a wry smile of his own. “No kidding. I mention how much easier it was before you started dating all the boys?”

“Think I should go back to girls?” She raised her brows.

He let out a choked laugh, then his gaze shifted away from her. “Hey Steve.”

“Hey…”

“Hi Steve,” she called.

“Hi Angel,” he answered. “As for the dating of girls, I’d rather you didn’t cut out boys all together.”

“So picky,” she murmured. “Girls can be nice. They’re softer. Some of them anyway.” Maria had been soft when she hadn’t been biting. Still… The smirk on Clint’s face made her smile.

“I don’t doubt it,” Steve said and she had to wonder, was he flushing? “I’m pretty fond of a woman myself.”

He loved her.

She blew out a breath.

He loved her.

James loved her.

“Dating boys is making Clint’s life hard.”

“Too bad,” Steve retorted and Clint laughed.

Steve appeared in her line of sight and he dropped to sit on the bed next to Clint and she was in Switzerland again, only then it had been her sitting next to Steve and James who was in the closet. She almost asked where he was when the elevator chimed.

A pair of voices.

She sighed.

A knock against the doorframe. “Is Red decent?”

Natasha snorted. “I haven’t been decent a day in my life, Shellhead. Did you send Mr. Wizard home?”

A flicker of movement. James crossed past Steve and Clint to circle the bed, only instead of sitting on it; he leaned against the wall next to her nightstand.

“Yeah, I’m not responding to the first part of that statement on the grounds that Steve or Bucky might punch me,” Tony teased, but he wandered into view on the far side of the bed, hands in his pockets. He looked like crap.

There used to be a landscape up there. One of mountains with a stretch of blue sky, and snow-dusted peaks, but the artist seemed to be standing in a meadow of some kind with the most beautiful spread of wildflowers.

“See, you can teach an old dog new tricks,” Clint said with a faint smirk. The weariness in his face suddenly visible or maybe she was paying closer attention, again.

The painting had been like spring, summer, and winter all present in one image. She’d found it—where had she gotten it? For as long as she’d lived in the Tower, she’d had it. But before?

“Nice,” Tony said with a roll of his eyes, then focused on her. “Yeah, I sent the wizard home. Still trying to work out when the neurosurgeon became a wizard.” He ran his hand through his hair. Bruises still marred his face and a split to his lip.

Had Montana been like that?

“Do we think he can help?” Steve asked, glancing away from her toward Tony. “I mean other than being abrasive?”

Had she ever been to Montana except to go to the…

“Maybe. He genuinely seemed puzzled and determined so maybe—”

Pain ripped through her head like a storm and she buried her palm against her eye.

“Come on, Nat,” Clint was saying. “Deep breaths. I need you to breathe, Tasha.”

She blinked slowly. Flat on her back, she could see a crack in the ceiling. It hadn’t been there before—maybe an artifact of the search.

And she was lying on her bed.

Pressure against her face had her flicking her gaze to Clint and then to James just behind him.

“There she is,” Clint said slowly, the gray pallor to his skin worrisome. “You are there, right?”

The pain was gone. Well, not gone, but not killing her. The white that had fuzzed out her vision was absent. “I know where I saw that machine before,” she said, even as her stomach rolled. She barely made it away from him, tumbling off the bed and stumbling into the bathroom.

Steve caught an arm around her or she might have slammed her head against the porcelain. That would have been charming. The toilet lid was up and she threw up. The burn of it, everything she’d eaten in the last couple of hours emptied out of her.

Nothing she did stopped it until she emptied her stomach. Even then, the bouts of nausea swept over her. When was the last time she threw up? Thankfully, she’d put her hair into a ponytail or Steve would have been holding her hair back, too. Bad enough he had to hold her up. The toilet flushed, then there was a cold washcloth on her face.

Her mouth tasted like ass again.

_“I like your ass.”_

A laugh worked its way up. She gazed into a pair of deeply worried eyes, aware of the collection of men standing either in the bathroom with her or just outside the doors. Cool metal pressed against her nape. Even through the bandages that felt great on her overheated skin.

Bandages.

Oh yeah. No wonder that hurt like hell when she threw up.

“Here,” Tony said and a bottle of water appeared in her periphery. Steve caught it, and then twisted it open before he handed it to her. Rinsing her mouth out, she spat into the sink a couple of times, but she could barely take a real sip, swallowing hurt.

“I think I tore something,” she said, carefully, because water shouldn’t feel like jagged shards going down.

“You’re bleeding,” James told her. “We’re going to have to change the bandages and check the sutures.”

“Okay.” She held a hand up to him and he caught it, glanced at Steve and at his nod, James slipped his other arm under her legs. Then she was up and he carried her out of the bathroom. “First aid in the kitchen.”

“Already got it.” Clint stood waiting for them. James set her down on the island and she managed another small sip of water while they got the bandages peeled away from her throat. “Okay, you blew a couple of stitches,” Clint told her. “I’ve seen worse, so shitcan the dramatics, okay?”

Another laugh worked its way up. “No promises.”

Another sip.

Tony glared at her—no, he wasn’t glaring at _her_, he was glaring at her neck. “You should never have let me put that thing on you.”

“Next time, I’ll break your arm.” She held up a hand. “Scout’s honor.”

Now he rolled his eyes and Steve snorted.

Weirdly, she felt a little better. Or at least—the glass wall between her and the world seemed to have cracked open and she could breathe.

“The device…”

“Hey, Red,” Tony began.

“Angel… don’t.”

“It’s okay,” she said with a wave of her hand. Or she would have except James had her hand in his. When she would have turned her to head to look, Clint made negative little growling noise he reserved for when she was genuinely aggravating him.

Oh.

Right.

Stitches.

“It doesn’t hurt like that anymore… I just remembered where I’d seen that device Pierce used.” The sour taste in her mouth made her grimace as the needle pierced her skin. Clint was fast with stitches and the tugs and pulls a familiar sensation.

“You’re okay to talk about it?” Steve asked with a measuring look in his eyes.

“I think so—I feel….better. It’s hard to explain but—that device was at The Guest House.”

“The guest house?”

“Nat—that was compartmentalized, Level 10.” Clint stared at her.

“And apparently you knew about it.”

“Only that it existed,” Clint told her. “When the hell did you go there?”

She licked her lips. “Right after I finished Tony’s assessment.”

Tony frowned.

“Didn’t you have to go to South America right after LA?” It wasn’t an accusation, but a clarification.

“Fury… had plans. You were in New Mexico with Coulson—the whole thing with Foster and Thor had just happened.”

Clint nodded as he rewrapped her throat carefully, the gauze firm but not tight.

“Coulson called in a status report and yeah, I went to South America, I had to check on Bruce and lay some false trails to pull Ross’s bounty hunters away. Then Fury sent me to threaten him personally.”

Steve’s expression was stone, but his eyes—they were just filled with concern. Would she ever not worry him?

“Right. That was after you skipped out of our post-mission drinks.”

She made a face as her gaze snagged on him. “Yeah.” Neither of them looked at Tony, but she’d been screwed up after that mission. He wouldn’t trust her… and after she’d failed him in Afghanistan that made so much more sense why it haunted her…so many broken little pieces.

“So you’ve saved the billionaire, led the hunters away from the other guy, skipped drinks with me, then threatened Ross and you’re back at HQ—you were at the Triskelion, right?”

“No… diner…somewhere in Nevada. Nick didn’t want to meet at HQ. Hot, dusty little place but he had me meet him there and then gave me my next assignment.”

Clint’s frown deepened.

“Lila was teething, you took a couple of weeks to go give Laura a break.”

He sighed. “You were supposed to show up.”

“I got busy.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth tilted up when Clint said, “Yeah, yeah. You always get busy and then I have to apologize to Laura.”

“I got to Lila’s birth, you could handle the teething.” She stuck her tongue out at him and Tony chuckled and a smile flickered across James’ lips.

“Anyway…” Clint glared at her with no heat whatsoever. “The Guest House.”

She blew out a breath. It was all there—a little jumbled, but she could see it. The diner. The cracked linoleum on the floor. The worn nearly thin orange vinyl on the diner seats. The fifties had thrown up on that diner and froze it in orange-colored amber.

“Nick had me meet him in Nevada. Deep shadow conditions.” At Tony’s raised eyebrows, she said, “It means strip all comms, go off-grid, travel under an alias and vanish. No one beyond Nick should ever know I was there or why. There would be no record of the meeting. Totally compartmentalized.”

“Until now,” Tony pointed out with an almost wry smile.

“Yeah, well fuck Nick.”

Steve bit back another smile but Clint actually snorted.

Tony’s grin just grew.

Scraping her teeth over her lower lip, she shook her head slowly. Then paused that action—neither her neck nor her head were on board with it. So she took another sip of water.

James went to her pantry and returned with a sleeve of crackers. He set them next to her, open, and she gave him a small smile. “Spasibo.”

“Pozhaluysta,” he murmured.

Picking out one of the crackers, she considered it but didn’t eat it right away. Her stomach was still doing rolls. Or maybe that was her head. Too bad Strange hadn’t stuck her in an MRI; he would have gotten a hell of a mental snapshot with that part.

“Anyway… when I got there, Nick had a file. It was only a paper copy; it included a map, coordinates, passphrases. He said, memorize it, burn it. The challenge phrases would only work for me. Then he gave me two days, he said go to the coordinates, untraceably—which meant hiking—my mission ops would be waiting for me when I got there.”

And she hadn’t asked another question, simply finished her sandwich, drank her tea then walked out.

“Two days later, I was standing on a mountainside, it had taken me hours to get up there and I found the access portal, then answered the challenge questions. Inside—was The Guest House.” She met Steve’s gaze then Tony’s and exhaled. “Nick knew that for the Avengers’ Initiative to take off—there would be a real chance we’d lose an Avenger. He now had three potential recruits to keep alive and in the event we lost an Avenger, he had The Guest House ready to go.”

She could see the dusty walls giving way to steel and white. They’d buried the entire facility _inside_ the mountain. Labs that would populate a few days a week with personnel who didn’t know how they’d gotten there. Guards on standard rotations who were handpicked…

“It was a hospital?” Steve frowned.

“Not—exactly. It was…” She exhaled. “It was a lab, a series of them, and they had all kinds of samples, medications, and devices designed to sustain and prolong life for those gravely injured, enhanced or not.”

“Nat—did Fury want you there for security or to help provide samples to sustain life?” Clint’s voice was ice.

“Both,” she said slowly.

Steve turned away, both hands scrubbing at his face as he paced away. “So he sent you there to be experimented on. _Son of a bitch…”_

“Steve,” she murmured, but he was already out of reach so she went to slip off the counter, but James put his hand next to her leg and shook his head.

“Give him a sec, Doll,” he asked more than told, and she settled for putting her hand over his. The taut lines on his face eased.

“You know, I’ve never been fond of the pirate king…” Tony said with a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It was about saving lives,” she said quietly. “No one ordered me to provide the samples.”

“He didn’t have to order, Nat. He sent you there,” Clint said, his knuckles white on the edge of the counter. He suddenly started packing away her first aid kit.

“Well, if I could save a life, any of your lives, then it was worth it. But that wasn’t the only reason I was there. They had personnel that had to be watched and protocols I had to memorize…” It hadn’t been her first trip there, either.

“If you had to memorize them, why did you forget?” Tony asked, pinning her with a look.

“I…” the answer eluded her.

_“You’ve helped us calibrate this device for the last few years and it’s proven essential in both of our successes.”_

“The device,” Steve said, finally facing her again, his hands at his side. “The one you said they used on you.”

She nodded slowly. “But they didn’t use it there…” At least she didn’t recall them using it there.

Clint’s head snapped in her direction. “But they used it?”

“Not there…the senior tech said they needed it because of the GH—” What was it? “GH-325. It was a fluid…” A blue fluid. “Samples procured from an alien,” she framed the word with mild disbelief. “More fucking aliens… a body they recovered after World War II—or at least that’s what they said. It was a blue guy, severely damaged, but his tissue and samples were still viable after all those years and I couldn’t really say anything—I’m still viable after all these years. The senior administrator told me they’d mothballed some of the operations under the recommendation of the previous administrator, but Nick wanted to keep it up and running. I needed to be aware of it all…because I was going to be your handler. The fluid had incredible restorative properties even better than my own healing and in the event of catastrophic injury I could have one of you taken there to save your lives.”

She rolled her head to the side then winced at the pull on her neck. So why had she forgotten it? Something Nick did? Pierce? Pain flared along her eye and rubbed her face before taking a drink.

“You need sleep,” Tony told her firmly. “The doc’s timing could have been better and normally I wouldn’t have woken you up…”

“It’s my turn to talk to Nick,” she said, ignoring the comment about sleep.

“Nat…” Clint said. “Not right now.”

“More answers. We need more of them. I keep getting weird little puzzle pieces.” But The Guest House was in Montana. The coordinates flashed through her mind. “But we could go there…”

“Yeah, not without a little more research,” Tony said flatly even as Steve said, “Not yet.”

“How’s your head?” James asked quietly waving off the rest of the conversation.

“Not bad,” she said. “Aches a little. It’s like—each time I get a piece back, the pressure just bursts and then…it eases up.”

Memory blocks.

“Yeah, I’m just hoping we’re not bursting anything else,” Tony groaned, pacing in a small circle. “Strange promised to get back to me within a day or two. He said he shouldn’t need that long to go over everything. I gave him your full file.”

She nodded slowly.

“Are we really trusting Harry Potter?” Clint asked. “I just want to be clear on why we’re handing over Nat’s very confidential files to a stranger in a cosplay costume.”

“Because he’s the best neurosurgeon in the country,” Natasha said, meeting his gaze. “He’s the one guy Tony has been trying to get to for weeks. Tony trusts him.”

“No, I don’t,” Tony argued. “He might be the best, everything I know about him says he is, but don’t mistake trusting his talent for trusting him.”

“Then why did you wake me up and why did you give him my file?” She met his gaze evenly. Tony, just like the rest of them, had been very territorial in his guardianship.

“She has a point,” Steve said quietly. “And the man was an arrogant ass…but he also seemed…”

“Genuine,” James finished. “Arrogance earned is not so bad if he can help. And at the end of the day, it’s Natalia’s decision.”

Easing off the counter, she put a hand on James’ arm to brace in case her legs didn’t hold her but they were steadier than she expected. “Friday…”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff?”

“The blocked VOIP request from a few weeks ago…”

“I recall.”

“Can you contact it?”

“Of course.”

“Open line.” She walked over to the kettle and filled it with water, then turned it on. In a very short time, she was going to go to sleep and there would be nothing she could do about it. Tony was right, she needed more sleep. Steve had been right earlier when he said she needed a nap. She was running on pure fumes and that was before the episode.

A ring intoned overhead.

It rang twice.

Then. “Hill.”

“Maria, put Nick on the phone.”

“Good morning to you, Natasha.”

“Yeah, it’s not a good morning. Put Nick on the phone.”

A click. “Romanoff.”

“Nick… tell me about The Guest House and the memory machine they had installed there.”

Dead silence.

She wasn’t playing this game. “Talk to me or I’m on a quinjet in ten minutes and I’ll find out for myself.”

The fact that was a blatant lie didn’t lessen the threat.

“I’m not doing this on an open line. I’ll be at the Tower in thirty minutes.”

“We’ll be here.”

The call ended and Natasha turned to face the men. “Guess I’m going to be awake for a little longer.” She took a bite of a cracker while she waited on the tea. “So—setting aside the rest of that, why aren’t we meeting with the Committee members tomorrow?”

Tony narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t know Red, because we tabled all of that while you were gone and we’ve had you back less than a day and you’re already unstable on your feet? No—you wouldn’t like that reason. So how about this one, because _I said so_.” A very real anger simmered in those words.

“I need to brush my teeth.” She glanced at the cracker, then at the kettle.

“I’ll make your tea, Doll,” James offered even as Clint slammed open a cupboard in search of coffee. She winced at the noise.

“Thanks.”

It wasn’t just brushing her teeth; it was getting a few minutes to herself. No one followed her back into her bedroom or the attached bathroom. She studied her pallor in the mirror then brushed her teeth thoroughly before rinsing her mouth. The tenderness she always had post-episode was definitely in evidence, but the actual pain was so much less, her ribs hurt more.

She put a hand to her side and began to test them.

Yeah, they were definitely still cracked, but nowhere near as bad as they had been. So maybe sleep had helped some.

“Angel,” Steve’s voice wrapped around her quietly and she glanced at him from where she leaned against the sink.

“Hey…”

He smiled, setting his shoulder against the doorframe, but managing to not blockade the door. That awareness swept over her and her smile grew a fraction wider. They were all being so careful with her.

“You need to sleep.”

“I do. I’m barely staying upright.” She motioned to the sink. “That’s why I’m going to eat the crackers and drink the tea and then see if I can keep food down before they get here.”

Because Maria would be with him. Of that, she had no doubt.

“Okay, what can I do?”

She picked up a washcloth and wiped her mouth after she rinsed off her toothbrush, then rinsed her mouth one more time. “What did you think of the doctor?”

“That the level of weird I’ve gotten used to dealing with made him seem almost normal.” A flash of a smile. “You told him an awful lot about you.”

“I need him to clear me.”

“Mary,” he said quietly and she nodded.

“I have to find her. I just—_need_ to know what happened. I thought it was an imperative before but…” She swallowed and put the cloth down. “Even with _everything_ that happened over the last few days, I keep hearing her voice in my head. I know it was forty years ago, but it feels like yesterday.” It hurt like it was yesterday. It hurt like it was _now_.

“Then…I’m with you. Whatever you need,” Steve held out his hand. “Can I hug you?”

Her smile faded a little. A part of her wanted to say no, that it wasn’t safe, but only a small part. The rest of her… She pushed away from the counter and went to him and let him wrap her up. She leaned into the hug and closed her eyes as she pressed her cheek to his chest. The steady thump of his heart against her ear eased some of the tension threading through her shoulders. Fisting his shirt, she held on tighter.

“We’re going to figure all of this out,” he promised her. It wasn’t a promise he could make. The secrets weren’t locked away in his head. The bedroom door closed quietly, then James was there. She could feel the heat of him even if she didn’t have her eyes open. When she slipped one hand off Steve to hold out to James, he closed the circle around her and she sighed.

“Thank you,” she whispered. James pressed a kiss to the side of her head even as Steve gave her a very gentle squeeze.

“Think you can eat something more than the crackers, Angel?”

“Toast? No eggs. That sounds awful.” So did bacon for that matter.

“We can do toast,” James assured her. “The tea is ready.”

So was the coffee. “You guys need your coffee.”

“Clint’s making it,” James told her. “After he and Tony got theirs.”

She almost laughed. There was only one coffeemaker on her floor.

“Okay…” The moment she began to pull away, they released her. “Toast. Tea. Then Nick.”

She curled her bare toes into the carpet.

“Then _sleep_,” Steve told her. “At least a few hours.”

“What if…”

“If there is an actionable lead, we’ll figure it out,” James said, raking a hand through his hair and pushing it off his face. “You first though. You have to heal. That’s—not negotiable.”

A faint grimace pulled at her lips even as she swayed slightly. “You’re right,” she admitted. “But I should do it alone…” At his sharp frown, she lifted a hand and carefully placed it against his chest, then set her other hand against Steve’s. That aggravating buzzing from earlier had quieted. Her muscles felt more like they’d been poured in lead. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“The only thing that hurt me was you being kept from me,” James told her. “I can take a hit, Natalia. You don’t mean me harm and I don’t want you to be alone if those dreams come. If that means I take a fist to the face then I take it.”

Tears burned along with the ache at the back of her throat.

“What he said,” Steve told her firmly. “Partners. We can keep our distance, but—you sleep better when we’re there.” It wasn’t a question.

Normally, she did. She’d gone right to sleep earlier, the lizard part of her brain convinced of her safety. They slept better when she was there, too.

“If I…”

“If you do anything, we’re right there. Both of us. You’re _not_ going to hurt us, Angel.”

“If,” she repeated, meeting his gaze then James evenly. “If I decide that it’s too much or I need to be alone…”

“Then we’ll give you space,” James said even though everything in his posture screamed dislike.

She blew out a breath. “I hate this.”

“I know,” James covered her hand on his chest with a gentle grip she could easily slip out of. “One step at a time.”

“And that first step is your tea and toast,” Steve caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her palm. The softness of his beard tickled her wrist.

Tea and toast.

Then Nick and Maria.

Maybe it was a good thing she’d already thrown up.

Stripping off her hoodie, she unbuckled her shoulder holster, then pulled it off to hand to James. At his raised eyebrows, she said, “I might shoot them if I have it.” Right now, her tolerance for Nick and Maria would not be high even if she would eat that resentment to get closer to some answers.

He nodded, closing his hand around the holster. “I’ll take care of it and them if necessary.”

The sober promise buoyed her a little.

Her tea waited for her in the living room, as did Tony who had a StarkPad in his lap and what looked like satellite footage on it. She glanced down at it as she passed him. Curling into the corner of the sofa, she cradled her cup and the silence hung over all of them like a funeral shroud.

“Hey, James…” She glanced to where he was pouring the coffee through the coffeemaker once more. “Did Clint tell you that me dating boys was making his life harder?”

The derisive snort followed by Steve’s chuckle and Tony’s snicker, made her smile. That was a little better.


	2. Director

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Maria shed some light on the past and open old wounds. Natasha begins fighting to put the pieces of herself back together.

**Chapter Two**

**Director**

**Natasha**

The toast stayed down. The tea stayed down. Clint put together sandwiches, including a grilled cheese he made for her. It was easier to eat and it stayed down. Being nauseated wasn’t new, but actually vomiting without something being severely wrong was. It had happened on only a few occasions…

No. There was no way.

No.

_“All of this damage tells me it’s not a case that you can’t get pregnant. It’s that you wouldn’t be able to sustain the pregnancy.”_

No.

Absolutely not.

Just no.

Usually a severe head wound—as scrambled as her brain had been, that was a definite check—or when she’d ingested poison. Considering where she’d been, not impossible. Or when the pain was so excruciating, she couldn’t escape it and her whole body rebelled.

That happened a couple of times. More back in the Red Room when they tested her limits.

Pushed them until she didn’t have them.

Pushed the way she’d been pushed this last week.

But her stomach had settled. Even the awareness of how closely the guys were watching her without blatantly staring didn’t bother her. Well except for James, he’d been assessing her quietly and when she met his gaze he didn’t shy away from it. He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. Not for long and not willingly. Even his concession if she needed space that he’d give it to her—she could read between those lines. Space hadn’t been defined. A foot was space.

No, losing her breakfast was all… a really bad week on top of brain damage and pure exhaustion. That coupled with a future of pokes, proddings, and tests. All worth it if she found Mary.

She needed to find her. Even just the truth of where she had left her.

If she walked away from everything, every fight and every person here—if she walked away from all of it, would she heal? Would her _brain_ heal given time?

In the years between leaving the KGB and the Red Room the first time and being recruited by Clint, she’d sustained numerous injuries. She’d run, fought off bounty hunters, avoided operatives sent to recapture her, and even other assassins who wanted to take what was hers. She’d carved a life for herself, as paltry as it might have seemed to some, with blood and sweat.

There had never been time for long-term healing. How long would she need to heal decades of injuries? To let her body go to work on the deeper, non-life-threatening wounds?

No.

It would mean leaving the Avengers.

Steve wouldn’t leave the fight. James wouldn’t leave him. Not willingly. Either of them. That was a lie. They’d go if she asked. But if she took them away from it… if she left and something went wrong?

Guilt was a living, breathing monster slithering through her veins.

No.

They had to find another way.

She couldn’t leave Tony. Or the team. They had to sort out the Accords. Wanda needed her. Peter needed her.

“Boss… company’s here.”

Tony stood. “Give us a minute, then send them to the common room.” He glanced at her. “You still up for this, Red?”

“No, but it’s never stopped me before.” She rose and then glanced down at her feet. “I really need shoes or something.” Maybe another gun. Should she have given her gun to James?

Maybe.

No. It was a better idea that he had her gun for this. He wouldn’t be rash.

But he wouldn’t hesitate either.

Steve held out a rolled pair of fuzzy socks. “I was thinking you might get cold.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, closing her fingers around them. It seemed like months since all she’d wanted was Steve, James, pizza, and her fuzzy socks.

Dropping back to the sofa, she dragged one sock on and then the other. Standing, she pulled the zipper up on the hoodie. She looked like crap. Felt worse. Now, she had to deal with two people she’d rather never see again.

“Think we can make more tea up there?”

The corners of James’ mouth quirked. “I think we can do whatever we want. But we keep this meeting short and to the point. Then you sleep.”

“Fair.”

“And if any of us,” Tony said, bracing his hand against the open elevator doors. “_Any_ of us—you, me, Steve, Bucky, or Clint, calls foul and done—will you get up and walk out and let us get rid of them?”

That would be tantamount to letting them fight her battles for her. It also gave them the right to end it if they thought it was too much, even if she could take it.

Then again, he wasn’t just making the call like he had at the party. He was asking her first.

Progress.

“Fine,” she conceded. “I’m really tired. I know what I can take.”

“So do we,” Clint said, his tone dry. “You’ll take it and take it until you’re bleeding. But that’s not the goal.”

“Agreed,” she said with an exhale. Relief flickered in more than one expression as she stood. “Definitely want another cup of tea.”

Ten minutes later—cause Tony made them wait while James brewed the tea—Natasha curled up in the corner of one sofa with Steve standing behind her and Clint seated to her left on the sofa, Tony sprawled in the armchair to her right and James leaning against the wall on the opposite side, they arrived. Their positions put Nick and Maria directly in the crossfire between James and Steve. The impatience on Nick’s expression gave way to something almost amused as he glanced from James to where they were seated to Steve and finally to her.

Unlike New Orleans, Nick looked more like himself from his black turtleneck to his dark black leather jacket and dark-colored slacks. He removed a pair of sunglasses, revealing the familiar eye patch as he took a seat. A gun holster sat under the jacket and the lines of it told her there was another secured under his left arm.

Maria dressed similarly, though her turtleneck was a darker green and she had an ankle holster in addition to the shoulder holster. Neither of them removed their jackets as Nick took a seat and Maria took position to his left, arms folded. She had a sightline on James and Steve, but she couldn’t keep one in her sightline without turning slightly from the other.

The lines at the corners of her mouth tightened and Natasha almost felt bad for her.

Almost.

“Took your time letting us up considering the urgency of the matter.”

“Didn’t notice,” Tony said. “Also don’t recall saying the matter was urgent.”

“You didn’t,” Nick told him flatly, transferring his gaze to Natasha. She lifted her tea and took a sip rather than give him a verbal response. “Romanoff, I thought this would be a conversation between us.”

Tony snickered, a delightfully obnoxious and derisive sound. “No, you didn’t, because you’re not that stupid.”

“Stark—this is highly classified and compartmentalized data.”

“For an organization that no longer exists,” Natasha said, yanking the attention off Tony. “And I already told them what I know. Anything you say to me, I’m also going to tell them.”

Clint propped his leg against the coffee table and leaned over toward her, offering in a very unsubtle whisper, “You know he likes his secrets.”

“Maybe, but classified data is so two years ago,” Natasha replied in the same tone. For a split-second, her gaze clicked with Maria’s and the other woman rolled her eyes then lifted her brows. “I don’t make the rules,” Nat addressed her directly.

“No, you just break them,” Maria finished with a shake of her head.

Natasha just took another sip of tea. As long as they understood each other.

“Are we doing this, Nick? Or are we escorting you and Maria-doesn’t-work-for-me-only back out? We’ve got plenty of things to do if you’re just going to waste our time,” Tony told him. “Again.”

Again?

She didn’t let the flicker of a question escape. As tired as she was, it was taking every ounce of her concentration to even focus, so appearing uncaring seemed almost easy in light of wanting to check out from moment to moment.

Clasping his hands together loosely, Nick leaned forward. “What do you remember of The Guest House?” His attention was on her.

“She doesn’t have to answer that,” Steve said, his tone brooking no argument. “She asked you a question. You didn’t want to answer it on the phone. If you still don’t want to answer it—the elevator is right there. We’ll be happy to show you out.”

Nick shook his head slowly. “I always wanted you to come together as a unit.”

“Then today should be your happy day,” Tony told him airily. Then he checked his watch. “Baby Girl, give me a sixty-second timer.”

“Sixty seconds commencing now, Boss.”

“Tick tock,” Tony said.

The flash of annoyance in Maria’s eyes disputed the flicker of amusement in her almost smile. “Sir, they’re going to figure a lot of this out one way or another. Natasha has been to the facility and wrote the security protocols.”

Well. Good to know.

Nick twisted to look at Maria like _what the hell_, still, Natasha wouldn’t buy into the whole act. Talking out of turn was an old play, distract, foster alliance, and offer support.

“Thirty seconds, Boss.”

“I put you on The Guest House project in 2007.” Nick steepled his fingers. “At the time, we were testing a number of pieces of equipment and devices as well as protocols to revive fallen Avengers.”

“There was no initiative in 2007,” Tony argued. “You didn’t have any Avengers.”

2007 was well before she’d gone to evaluate Tony, too. Before she’d seen James in Odessa. Was she mixing her timelines?

Nick pointed at Natasha. “I had her. The closest thing to a superhero I’d seen in a little over a decade. She wasn’t Captain America, but she was close. She had the skills and the ability to heal, definitely enhanced if nothing else. So yes, Stark, I had an Avenger. There’s a reason I sent Natasha to evaluate you and Banner. If she hadn’t been dealing with your self-involved ass when Thor landed, I’d have sent her there.”

The time was up but Friday didn’t intervene because Nick was talking.

“As it was, Coulson handled that well enough and Barton gave us a fair idea of the guy’s skills.”

Natasha nudged Clint, signing _and developed his first man-crush._

The middle finger response made her all warm and gooey inside.

“And you sent Natasha to be there when I woke up,” Steve supplied, his arms folded.

“To ease your passage into the twenty-first century. She would be the primary lynchpin for all of you. Barton trusts her, we wanted her to get Banner’s trust—which you did,” Nick said with a look at her. “Stark—we knew you’d come around even if she didn’t agree with our play. And as for you Cap, we needed to give you someone to trust in this century. But Natasha didn’t play ball that day.” The look he favored her with now was dour.

“She played it the right way,” Steve said firmly. “She didn’t play into the fantasy and let me see through the sham so I could make my own determinations.”

“What was she supposed to do for Thor?” Clint said slowly. “Let me guess... seduce him if he looked like he was going off the reservation. But he already had an attachment to Dr. Foster, so you put Dr. Foster somewhere to protect her and that kept you in Thor’s good graces.”

Nick spread his hands. “The point was it worked. There are fights we cannot fight, even now, and bringing the lot of you together was our way to face off against these enemies. The Chitauri wasn’t our first alien contact.”

“No, there’s the bastard you have in cold storage at The Guest House as you take him apart piece by piece.” The mental image danced too close a line between her own past and the formless. A series of images flashed across her mind. Breaking into the storage room, locating GH-325 and realizing it wasn’t a chemical compound derived from a super soldier serum but an alien in a containment unit. He was very much dead with more than a third of his abdominal and chest cavity removed. Tubing running from him showed a thick blue liquid being extracted.

They’d had this alien since the 1940s.

If that wasn’t the thing of nightmares.

Was that what she’d found in 2007?

“He’s a Kree, and he was the only one remaining of three that came down during a battle in World War II, two of the three were killed. Doctors attempted to save his life. They were partially successful but only for a brief time. Research was compartmentalized and eventually moved to The Guest House upon requisition in the 90s.”

She considered that. “And you’re sure he was taken out in the 40s?”

“Sure as I am that you and Cap and his buddy there were all alive and kicking in the 40s.”

Blandly, she said, “And who took them out?”

There was a marked hesitation.

“Hydra,” James said without missing a beat.

“They may have been assets that were acquired after the war. But they were in SHIELD’s hands…”

“Which means they were in Hydra’s hands,” Tony said with a wave. “What was yours was theirs and what was theirs was theirs. We’ve figured that out. Remember?”

“Hydra wasn’t in The Guest House.”

“You sound very certain of that,” Natasha challenged him.

“I am, because before you, the man running the place was Coulson. You were his pick for a replacement when he moved on to other projects.”

Odd. Phil never mentioned The Guest House. “Phil was one man. There were multiple others working there.”

“Only rotating teams, and only brought in for specific assignments. They were picked up by…” Nick stopped and then sighed.

“STRIKE teams and delivered to the location.” It was a guess, but based on his expression a very good one.

STRIKE, which had been Hydra.

“So what were you lying?” Tony asked.

“He’s not lying,” Maria interjected. “We understand that everyone here has a bone to pick with Hydra, however, since _none_ of us are Hydra…_anymore_.” The last she added with a flick of a look toward James and then to Natasha. “Perhaps if we could all pretend to be allies, this might go faster, sir.”

“We’re all very good at pretend,” Natasha said. “So let’s pretend. I don’t care about the alien or the GH-325…” Maria’s eyelid flickered. So maybe she should care about it. “Or even why my time in The Guest House became a matter of national security.”

Nick wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Someone wanted me to forget it. There’s a device there…very similar to the one Pierce used on me.”

Nick’s head snapped up.

“So, tell me, Nick…did you order The Guest House erased from my mind or was that Pierce?”

The tea had cooled as they spoke, but she took another deeper drink of it. The Earl Grey, caramel, and red fruits with hints of vanilla teased at her senses. There was a comfort in the familiarity to it that she appreciated. More, there was a sweetness to the fact James made it for her. Focusing on the tea kept her expression neutral, as if she truly didn’t care what the answer was.

“That one would be on us… partially,” Nick admitted. “There were only two instances where we used the device on you.”

Clint launched forward but Natasha put a hand on his arm. He stilled at the contact.

“To remove my knowledge of some specific pieces of The Guest House—though not The Guest House itself.” That she had recalled.

“We were removing the memory of the machine and the GH-325.” A muscle twitched in Nick’s jaw. “The machine, the compound, the alien—the key points that were being mothballed in the operation. We removed it from everyone who didn’t need to know.”

So, no Natasha, you’re not special. Message received.

“Did you even get her permission beforehand?” Tony demanded, and Natasha didn’t look at James because his face had gone expressionless and his eyes cold.

“I can’t prove whether I did or I didn’t,” Nick said. “Can I?”

Probably not.

Sometimes, she couldn’t read Nick, but he was agitated. There was something about this whole situation he didn’t want them to know. That she’d ‘rediscovered’ the memory was not on his list of ideal outcomes.

“Dammit, Nick…” Steve swore. “You knew the technology that could do this, you had access to it and you used it on her without any regard of the long-term effects?”

Bingo.

Only instead of watching Nick this time, she focused on Maria. Her jaw tightened and she was pale under the hint of tan. “Because that was the _second_ time. You calibrated it with me to make it safe for other people to use.”

The muscles in Clint’s arm bunched.

Maria just closed her eyes.

“You have to understand…” Nick told her. “We knew what it could do, we understood the leaps it could give us—but if we did it to someone like Stark or Barton—and we were even a little off, they wouldn’t recover.”

_ “You’ve helped us calibrate this device for the last few years and it’s proven essential in both of our successes.”_

Tony was on his feet. “And why the _hell_ were you planning on putting any of us through it?”

Nick surged upward and Clint shook her off as he hit his feet. James had her gun in his hand, it just appeared there as if magic.

“Because GH-325 is almost a miracle drug,” Maria said, her gaze locking with Nat’s. “Almost. Ten people from SHIELD all high-level agents in dedicated positions suffering from catastrophic illnesses or injuries with terminal diagnoses volunteered to test the results. To test the theory. It worked. It cured cancer. It helped restore nerve function to a man who’d been paralyzed. It was—incredible. It even brought back someone who had been compromised with damage to the limbic system of their brain, they couldn’t process short-term to long-term memory storage, they’d been permanently in 1998 before we introduced them to the therapy.”

“What went wrong?” Because something had to have. If SHIELD had the cure to cancer, they would have long since shared it with the world.

“Madness,” Nick said bluntly. “One by one over the course of a few weeks they began to gradually lose their minds. They would see things or hear them and they would begin to inscribe them on anything they could get their hands on—an alien language. It was like the alien took over that part of the synapses. Brain activity in those regions was off the chart. We had the memory device…”

Maria exhaled, then moved away from Nick to circle the coffee table toward her. Clint glared at her but she ignored him as she took a seat right in front of Natasha. “When the doctors and the director of the project met about what was going on, they were running out of options. These were ten remarkable people going mad, ten SHIELD agents, and there was a theory that if we could “reset” their memory to before the infusion and fill in the gap with something else, maybe we could fix the problem.”

Maria glanced at her hands, then at Natasha once more.

“That would require highly specific targeting…not only for the memories but to cover them up. To identify specific pieces of the brain, we had a time frame and we had the scans, but we didn’t have any guarantees they would survive it.”

“Was I asked?” She raised her brows.

“I asked you for a favor. In 2007.” Maria admitted. So that explained one discrepancy. “I asked you to do something and ask me no questions. That you might need to be out for a couple of hours but afterwards we’d go to the beach.”

“Tahiti.” Nat pursed her lips. “So we really didn’t go to a beach?”

A slow shake of her head. “Nat…”

“Yeah, you don’t get to call me that anymore.” Natasha eyed her coolly. “That’s for my friends. You and I? We’re not friends.”

It was a slap and it landed. Maria recoiled as if she had hit her and there was genuine hurt in those eyes before she covered it up.

“It was an op. You needed answers and you needed them fast. I was the most likely one who could survive such a brutal and invasive procedure—and expendable.”

“You were _never_ expendable,” Nick stated, his voice edged and diamond-hard. “You have a very specific set of talents, one being you can heal almost anything. So if we made mistakes, you could heal from them.”

“How many attempts?” Tony demanded. Neither Steve nor James had moved but the energy vibrating off of Steve was a very tangible thing. Where he blazed hot, James burned cold.

Maria closed her eyes but it was Nick who turned away.

“How. Many,” Tony stated and there was the snicked of metal gliding, that pulled her attention and Tony’s gauntlet was on his hand and activated. “I’m not asking again.”

“It took about a dozen tries to get it right.”

Nick put his hands on his hips. “We were there about a week. Tasha bounced back…”

“Romanoff,” Steve snapped. “You can call her Romanoff if you address her at all. You don’t deserve to use her name.”

That got Nick’s attention. “Excuse me, Captain, I was trying to save ten lives and it worked. They’re all alive, and whole. Their minds are their own.”

“Ten SHIELD agents, you traded Natasha’s sanity for their lives.”

“She’s _sane_,” Nick argued. “And sitting right here, perfectly capable of arguing for herself.”

The black lines though. Burns of aggravated areas of damage. Mental blocks. A memory of an island vacation that never happened. She’d been almost relaxed when she’d gone back to work; it had been… a beautiful lie.

“Those agents didn’t deserve to lose their minds and they couldn’t be agents afterward, we had to shift too much. But they’re alive and they’re safe. And they are leading productive lives without…” a faint hitch and hesitation. “Romanoff…they would be dead so she _saved_ those lives.”

That was one way to look at it.

Natasha eyed Maria. There was a definitive note of guilt lurking in her blue eyes. “What are you not saying?” she asked her quietly, even as Tony yelled at Nick and demanded he turn over the device.

“A lot,” Maria admitted. She leaned forward. “I—if I could go back and change it, there’s a lot of things I would change.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not an option—or maybe it is. You could just program me with the happy fuzzy memories and then I’d be the perfect girlfriend.”

Maria flinched.

Clint’s weight shifted, he might have been standing and glaring at Nick but his attention riveted to right in front of him.

“It was _never_ about that.”

“Then what was it about?” Her tea was finished, but cradling the cup was almost a self-soothing behavior, so Natasha held onto it.

“It was about the mission and getting the job done. I didn’t think you’d object because there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do or put yourself through to get the job done. Even…”

“Torture? Sex? Abuse? Captivity?” She raised her brows.

“Yes.” Even if it made Maria uncomfortable at least she was being honest. This was closer to the Maria Natasha had known, the one who didn’t rely on ranks to keep them at arms length. The woman she’d been behind closed doors.

“So you equated this with torture, sex, captivity, and abuse… did you equate yourself with the bad guys, too?”

That landed and Nick whipped around and pinned a look on her. “You know damn good and well who we are Romanoff. Don’t try to play the I’m better than you card, with the blood on your hands, every day of life you had after Barton brought you in was a gift. If we needed you to help save other lives, then we needed you.” Even as he finished his expression tightened. “It was _never_ about hurting you.”

“Ends justified the means,” Natasha told him. “Believe it or not, I do get it.” She looked from him to Maria. “I can’t really blame people for their worst choices. You’re right, I have a lot of blood on my hands.”

She set the teacup to the side and rose. Every ounce of the tired lay like a shroud over her. Maria held out a hand as if to steady her but Clint knocked it away as he shifted and eased between them. James was already away from the wall and meeting her as she continued around the table. Instead of passing Nick, she went wider and let James cover her back as she headed for the elevator.

“That’s it?” Maria asked as she continued walking. “You’re just walking away?”

“Where is the device now, Maria?” Gaze fixed on the elevator; she didn’t turn back and look at her.

“Nat—you know…”

“I know you offered to help with the memory blocks. Probably a ploy. But maybe you had your little device there, ready to go. Reprogram the Widow to be nice and compliant.”

Pivoting slightly, she glanced over her shoulder. Maria’s expression grew horrified. It wasn’t an act, even her eyes dilated.

“I would never…”

“But would Nick?”

“Romanoff, I wouldn’t.”

Now, she turned. James was right there, a silent sentinel at her side and Tony stood facing Nick, his gauntlet armed and the palm repulsor lit. Steve had shifted, he was ready to guard Tony as needed and he’d brought his shield.

Focusing on Nick’s eye, she raised her brows. “But you already did. So that’s a lie,” she kept her voice light, her tone almost inviting. “Not the first lie you told me. Not even the second. You claim to be coming to me as a friend…or at least Maria claimed it. You want to help me—because you want me to help you. One way or the other.”

Nick’s expression tightened and he reached for his pocket. He never made it. James had his arm in a lock and the gun right to his skull. Maria couldn’t get to hers because Clint had her arm twisted behind her and his other arm around her neck. But Maria hadn’t gone for her weapon.

“I was getting out my phone,” was all Nick said.

Tony crossed the distance and took it out of his pocket for him. Turning the phone to Nick’s face, he let his facial scan and retina unlock it, and then glanced at the screen. “What are we looking for?”

“Hit the first contact, then pound 1-1-4-1-4-3-2.”

“Baby Girl, do a blanket jam in case he wants me to blow up the Tower, I’m not in the mood for a redecoration party.”

“Done, Boss. The number is to a facility in New Brunswick, New Jersey.”

Tony hit the contact and entered the code as Natasha went to lean against the column. The waves were hitting her faster now. Her legs shook, her hands trembled and her vision had begun to tunnel.

Lifting her gaze to Clint’s, she made two small signs.

_Fading._

_Fast._

He shoved Maria backward and onto the sofa before he crossed the room to where she was. “Let’s go, Tash,” he said it like it was his idea. “They can handle the clean up.”

“Sir,” a tinny voice answered on the speakerphone. “Confirm identification.”

“Fury, Nicholas J.”

“Confirmation acknowledged. We weren’t expecting your call today.”

“Box the memory machine, Iron Man will be picking it up shortly. Send coordinates to my phone.”

“Sir?”

“You have my orders. Do it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Natasha leaned into Clint’s arm as they reached the elevator.

“Nat…” Maria made it across the room before Steve caught her arm. “We need to talk.”

“Maybe,” Natasha admitted. “But not today. Stop lying to us. Be useful. Pick a side. Then…then maybe we can talk.”

She didn’t look back as the doors opened and she stepped inside, Clint hit the button and Natasha caught the burning concern in Steve’s eyes.

“Nat,” Maria tried again, pulling her attention. Natasha wasn’t sure how much longer she was going to fake this. She was swaying—or the room was. “This is important… it is about Pierce and it is about the machine.”

“Hill,” Nick snapped.

“No,” she said. “We’re doing this wrong and we have been. She deserves to know. Everything.”

“We don’t know who it will compromise.”

“Go Red,” Tony said after he hung up the phone. “You called it. Go. If Hill wants to cooperate she can make an appointment to see you later.”

A part of her did want to talk to Maria. Maybe pick open the scabs on those old wounds and clean them out. Clear the air. Figure out how much was real and how much was…

“Was the affair real or was that just another memory you plopped in there?” The question rolled through the room like a harsh tide, silencing the conversation. Clint braced the elevator open when she didn’t step farther into it. Because as much as she’d enjoyed her time with Maria, she’d never been committed to it. When Clint needed her or the mission, she’d just gone.

It had always made Maria crazy.

“That was real…or as real as it could be considering how it started.”

“The machine.” It wasn’t a question.

“That’s part of what I wanted to tell you…it was an unexpected byproduct.” There was a real apology in her eyes.

“Great. Good to know. Goodbye, Maria…” she took a step backward, Clint’s hand on her back kept her from stumbling. She didn’t want to lean too hard on him, but she might be crawling out of the elevator by the time they reached Steve’s floor. The desire to not be touched vied with the desire to not fall on her face.

“The machine—the one Nick’s giving you. It isn’t the only one. There was another in the bank vault. Talbot and the others took it into custody after SHIELD went down. During the clean up. They have it…and I’m pretty sure that’s where Ross got his tapes.”

Yeah. She wasn’t doing anymore of this.

“Friday…”

The doors snapped shut and she sagged against the wall.

“Clint…”

“Hang on, Kid. Almost there.”

The elevator whipped to Steve’s floor, but the world was decorated with almost too bright lights, and deep shadows. “Friday…visual impairment. Tunneling.”

“Understood, Ms. Romanoff. Your pulse and respiration are increasing, are you experiencing any mental pain?”

No. It was pretty much all her heart at the moment.

“Swaying.” The word was slurring. She hadn’t had vodka, she shouldn’t slur.

“Kid, I’m picking you up,” Clint told her. “Arms around my neck.”

“Your leg…”

“I’m fine, do it.”

She looped her arms around his neck and then he had her up, and as soon as the elevator opened, he carried her out. She winced away from the almost too brilliant sunlight coming through the windows. The windows began to darken immediately and the overhead lights dimmed. Clint carried her at a swift pace right into her bedroom and he set her down with care against the pillows.

“Gonna pass out now.”

“Go ahead, I’ll be right here,” Clint promised, a familiar hand on her back. “This okay?”

He’d laid next to her. She was on her side, turned away from him, and his hand settled right between her shoulder blades. Familiar. Clint was safe. Clint was safe, the touch on her back—that was familiar. The mantra repeated over and over as her conscious mind and lizard brain debated it.

Lizard brain won. “Yes.”

And she slid right under.

~~~

When she opened her eyes again, everything ached and the fuzziness coating her from her mind to her tongue catapulted to the one time she’d managed to get drunk enough to wake up a little tipsy after a couple of hour nap. This was much, much worse. Blinking into the darkness, she waited for her eyes to adjust and catalogued her other senses.

The soft sound of breathing at her back, the very faintest of snores because his nose had been broken one too many times and there was no escaping it no matter how he lay. The weight of his hand a steady presence against her shoulder blades. How many times had she gone to sleep in a safe house with Clint right there, sleeping exactly like that?

She ran her tongue over her dry lips and grimaced. The foul taste in her mouth was back, a hint of metal and something far worse. The air was cool, but the almost vague scent of Clint’s aftershave—probably a splash on his clothes mixed with the muskier scent that was all him. They probably both needed showers.

Easing out from under his hand, she winced as she sat up and put her feet on the floor. Oh, that hurt like hell. Everything was stiff. Too stiff.

She pushed up, slowly until she could stand and forced her back to straighten rather than hunch like some cartoon character or comic book villain with one shoulder higher than the other.

There was a cracking as her vertebrae released tension and bit-by-bit she stood with her shoulders back. When she had her head fully lifted and her chin up, the eddy of dizziness faded. She put a hand on the nightstand. It was higher than hers…

Reality rushed in. This was her room on Steve’s floor. Glancing to where the pair of armchairs sat in her room, she squinted. It was too dark, but that was definitely Clint’s breathing, not Steve or James. On slow, careful steps she made her way to the bathroom and flipped on the light. Squinting away from the brightness, she swept a look over the room. The chairs were empty but one of them still sported a blanket that hadn’t been there earlier. Steve or James or maybe both had settled in the chairs.

A glance at her bed and she had to bite back a smile. Clint was sprawled on his back, one arm over his eyes, the other extended to where she’d been. He was on top of the duvet but someone had thrown a blanket over him.

Slipping into the bathroom, she closed the door to let him sleep. Her leggings, blades, and socks were gone; she was back in her oversized t-shirt. How hard had she been sleeping that she hadn’t even noticed? Because she was pretty sure she face planted as soon as Clint set her down.

After she emptied her bladder, she washed her hands, then her face and finally brushed her teeth. Pulling her hair free of the band, she ran her fingers through the disarray. The lopsided cut was really noticeable today. Or maybe especially irritating. Lifting the dog tags off carefully, she set them to the side. Tony’s bracelet caught the light and seemed to gleam. But it wasn’t covering anything she needed to treat.

With careful hands, she began to peel away the bandaging from her neck. The livid bruising was still visible, but the torn skin had sealed. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a pair of tiny scissors, using those she snipped the three stitches she could see and pulled them free carefully. Not even a drop of blood. Then she did a careful search around her throat. Finding another set of stitches, she adjusted the cosmetic mirror to an angle so she could see the stitches. The skin there was closed, too. Bye bye stitches. Those stung a bit more, but they were out she ran her fingers around her throat again, then sighed.

“Friday?”

“Good morning, Ms. Romanoff,” the AI greeted her immediately, her voice pitched soft and melodic. “You appear to be feeling better.”

“A little bit. How long did I sleep?”

“Roughly sixteen hours.”

Natasha blinked. “It’s Monday morning?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff. It’s five in the morning. Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes have gone for a run. They left approximately ten minutes ago, would you like me to page them back?”

“No, let them run.” They wouldn’t have left if they didn’t need a way to burn off their energy and the last few days had to have been hard on them. “Did they get any sleep?”

“I am uncertain, I have been in privacy mode save for monitoring your vitals. Boss and Captain Rogers both said it would be all right if I kept an ‘eye’ on you.”

Natasha almost smiled. “That’s fine, Friday. Unless I explicitly ask, you are more than welcome to monitor my vitals.”

“Thank you, Ms. Romanoff,” Friday sounded pleased.

“You can call me Natasha, too, I think you’ve more than earned that right.”

There was a moment of silence. Then the AI said, “Natasha.”

“Feel awkward?” Natasha stripped off her t-shirt slowly, braced for her ribs to protest and they definitely twinged but the body bruising aches they’d given her earlier passed swiftly. She took a deep breath, then inhaled deeper. That still hurt some. She let it out in a rush and braced a hand against the sink. She definitely had some cracks, still.

“I am uncertain, but I shall endeavor. Though many around you address you with a series of affections and nicknames—Boss calls you Red, Captain Rogers refers to you as Angel, though he also calls you Nat and Tasha, Mr. Barton always calls you Nat or Tasha, Sergeant Barnes seems to favor Doll or lyubov moya.”

“Would you like a nickname for me, Friday?” She slid out of the panties and turned toward the shower. She got the water turned on and up to the heat she preferred. As steam began to billow she stepped under it and braced her hands against the wall. The force of the jets pounding down on back made her wince as she adjusted to the heat, but she turned down neither the pressure, nor the temperature.

“A nickname should have special meaning for the one who gives it as well as a reflection of the person it is applied to, yes?”

“Most of the time.”

“Then I would very much like to ponder this, if you do not mind.”

“Nope, don’t mind at all.”

It took her ten minutes to wash her hair, and then she took another ten to go over every inch of her skin. The sense of filth clinging to her hadn’t gone away. Her battered and broken nails still looked like crap. She’d have to file away the jagged bits until the rest began to grow in.

Only when her skin actually turned pink everywhere did she shut off the water and reach for a towel. She wrapped one around her torso, then stepped out into the humid bathroom. Another few minutes spent running lotion over her bruises as she explored the damage remaining. The dark circle around her ankle seemed to mock her. Green and yellow for the most part, there was a single circlet of purple at the center as if burned into her flesh as a reminder of the fucking shackle she hadn’t been able to get off.

Not until The Mandarin removed it for her.

_“You will never fail to impress me, Widow.”_

Closing her eyes, she pushed his voice into a tight, airless box and sealed it shut. She didn’t want to hear him. Not ever. Eyeing her hair in the mirror, she turned to the vanity where she stored her leather pack and its haircutting tools. The last time she’d had it out, she’d trimmed Tony’s hair and then had that episode.

It took her a few minutes, but she combed her hair down, then used her fingers to check the length.

As she began to snip the rest to bring it even, each snikt of the blades gliding together seemed to gouge deeper into her. It was only hair. She changed it all the time.

Then she thought of how long her hair had been, braided and falling over her shoulder to damn near hit her waist. The near two years she’d spent with James, first fleeing Russia, then living in the mountains and the near eighteen months since their daughter’s birth, she’d done nothing but let her hair grow.

Her hair, apparently, like her body, could do wonders if she left it alone. Now she had to lose more than three inches all the way around.

When she finished, it hung to just below her shoulders wet. When it dried, the hair would curl up, and lift away.

It would be almost as short as it had been when she first _met_ Steve. Definitely far shorter than when she’d met Tony. Running her fingers through it, she let out a small sigh.

“It’s only hair, Natalia. It grows back.” But if not for what The Mandarin had done, she’d never have cut it and trimming the rest felt a little bit like giving in.

Shoving aside her maudlin thoughts, she cleaned up and disposed of the hair, then gathered the discarded clothes. When she opened the bedroom door, Clint was gone.

“Mr. Barton returned to his floor to shower after I informed him you were doing well.”

She hadn’t been doing that well. “Thank you for covering, Friday.”

“You are doing well, Natasha. You are clearly still in some distress, but my research shows that you are well within the margins for the physical, emotional, and mental trauma you sustained.”

“Thanks?” Natasha said. “I think?”

The AI didn’t chuckle, but she did say, “You are very welcome. Boss wanted to know if you’d like some company.”

“Is he still up or did he get up?” She peeled off the towel and hung it up, then dropped her used clothes in a hamper before she wandered into her closet. There were new t-shirts since the last time she’d been there and an almost weepy chuckle escaped her.

“I slept some, Red,” Tony’s voice carried through the speaker. “Not really feeling it tonight. Want to come up or should I come down?”

The drama llama one made her smile, but the pie chart—that one pulled a real grin from her. Damn earworms.

** _Things I will never do_ **

Give you up 50%

Let you down 5%

Run around & hurt you 15%

Make you cry 20%

Say goodbye 5%

Tell a lie and hurt you 5%

“You’ve been shopping again,” she murmured.

Shaking her head, she tugged it off the rack then found another pair of super soft yoga pants, pockets and all. Carrying them to the bedroom, she found her blades and their sheaths lying neatly on the dresser top with a note lying above them.

“I like shopping for you. Have a favorite in this set?”

“Undecided.” She lifted the note.

_Good morning Angel,_

_Buck and I are going running. You’ve been sleeping for hours and the nightmares stopped. Clint’s been passed out, too. You didn’t hurt anyone, but we wanted to be there for you if you needed us. If you wake before we get back remember—we love you. We’re going to figure all of this out._

_Steve_

She traced her fingers over the letters.

“Red?” Tony nudged her verbally.

“Still thinking, Shellhead. Takes me a minute right now.” Which was kind of a sad truth. She pulled on clean panties and then a bra. Grimacing a little as it tightened against her back and chest. Not unbearable. She strapped the sheath to her lower back and tightened it across her abdomen, before she attached the second one to her calf before she pulled on her loose yoga pants and then the shirt.

Done, she flexed her toes.

“Does coffee come with food?” Aware Tony had been listening while she worked through this. Her toes ached. Why the hell did her toes ache? Maybe sympathy for the rest of her. She padded back into the bathroom and grabbed the tags off the counter then carefully slid them over her head and tested the cool chain against her brutalized skin.

Definitely tolerable. It might look bad, but it was healing. Another day or two, maybe and she’d be able to cover it with cosmetics. High collars might be the order if she headed out though.

“Anything you want, Red,” Tony said. “I can make you an omelet.”

She almost laughed, but she settled for a chuckle. “If you’ve got food, I can cook. I’m just—I’m starving.” Her stomach gurgled.

“Come up, I’ll have something for us in fifteen minutes.”

“On my way.”

She tugged on the fuzzy socks, then put Steve’s note in her drawer with the others. They were all in a neat stack. Different scraps of paper, different colors even, but stacked neatly together. Someone had organized—and added another note.

_I think you might be getting soft on me Romanoff._

_Steve_

The laugh escaping her this time was a little warmer and she tucked his latest note away with the rest, and then headed out to the kitchen where she left a note of her own saying she’d gone to the penthouse. Friday would tell them of course but she propped the note against the coffee maker before heading to the elevator.

In the elevator, she leaned against the wall.

“You seem better today, Nat.” There was a pause.

“That’s not working for you either, is it?”

“No,” Friday said sounding faintly puzzled. “I shall continue to test others with your permission.”

“Take your time, you’ll find the one that works for you.”

“Indeed. When you have time, I have several reports to review with you as well as search algorithm results that came in during your absence.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she murmured as the elevator doors opened. Though the windows here weren’t blacked out for sleep, the sunrise was a mere hint on the horizon. The scent of coffee wrapped around her like a lover and she smiled. He’d pulled out the expensive stuff, but she folded her arms and paced toward the windows. There were a scattering of clouds and the city outside was still lit. There were hints of Christmas in some of the distant windows and there were ribbons festooning lamp poles below, but she could just barely make them out.

But she lifted her gaze toward the east where a split of pink and red crept along the surface of the horizon. The coffee scent grew stronger as Tony approached. “Big cup,” he warned as he held it out. It read _I am FE male_, with the FE representing the periodic table assignment for Iron. Translation: _I am Iron Man_

The corner of her mouth kicked up and she glanced at him. “Are you now?”

“It applies to both of us, so it works,” he gave her a small smile. His arm was back in a sling. “May I?” He motioned to her and she lifted a brow. When she gave him a little nod, he wrapped his right arm around her and gave her a very gentle hug before brushing his lips to her cheek. Nearly as soon as he’d touched her, he let her go. “Morning, Red.”

“Good morning, Tony,” she said, catching his hand lightly and giving it a squeeze before cradling her coffee and looking out the window again. The ribbon of red had grown, pinks and oranges in layers around it. The inky color of the sky faded to deep indigo in contrast and even the scattering of clouds softened their color.

“Breakfast will be here soon, I’m having a little bit of everything delivered. Plenty for everyone as they make their way up. But I know you liked those bagels from that place down on 6th.”

She did. Her stomach let out a gurgling growl in approval as she took a sip of the coffee. The dark, rich, and complicated bitterness in the flavor flowed over her tongue. It had been…days since she had coffee. She closed her eyes to savor it. The closest she’d come to tasting coffee had been…

Jerking her eyes open, she lowered the mug and licked the lingering taste off her lips.

“That good, huh?” Only a little amusement trailed into Tony’s concerned tone. If anything, he sounded more worried than pleased.

“Very,” she told him. “Your coffee is the best.” It was an old joke and the bruise around his eye couldn’t hide the faint crinkling as he smiled.

“I do like the best.” He toasted her with his mug and she stared at it for a beat, well aware of him watching her with even more amusement. The mug had a silhouette of a woman with red hair racing forward, batons at ready, her black suit lit with blue lines and below it read… _Make time to get it done – Black Widow_

With a sigh, she said, “What am I going to do with you?”

“Anything you want,” he said, then took another sip.

Glancing back at the sunrise, she focused on it.

“You want to sit down, Red?”

“Not yet,” she answered taking another sip. The ribbons stretched higher, a hint of golden kissing the upper layers as the light began to streak through the sky. “I want to watch the sun come up…”

“Okay,” he said, leaning against the chair closest to her. Instead of talking, he just sat and waited while the sun continued its slow, but relentless ascent. The moment it began to truly crest the horizon and dawn arrived in full. She was here.

She was home and she’d made it.

“How long?”

“He had you for eight days,” Tony answered her quietly. “Today is ten days since the party.”

Eight days.

She lost track around three or four.

Not good.

“Really crappy way to end the party.”

“Not disagreeing with you.” He lifted his cup for another sip. “Red…”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for saving Pepper.”

She smiled. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I just wish I could have stopped them before they got us out of the room. I should have recognized the drugs in the wine—it tasted _awful_.”

Tony almost laughed. “Pepper likes unique wines.”

Making a face, Natasha stole a look at him. “She said it was the gravelly soil.”

“Wine was never my thing,” he admitted.

“Still,” she murmured before taking another sip, her gaze fixed on the spreading light. “I should have known. That’s on me.”

“No it’s not. None of this is on you, Red. None of it—you warned me. Pepper warned me. I didn’t listen and you paid the price because he wanted to hurt me…and he succeeded.”

“He knew a lot about me, Tony—I don’t think that was just about you.”

“He knew a lot about you, Red—because his company had the original idea for the Jericho missile. I fixed it one weekend when I needed to clear my mind, his company was floundering and their tests failed, but I took that idea and I made it soar…Raza and his people? They wanted me to build them Jericho missiles when they took me.”

Another pang went through her. _Save Tony Stark._

“That would never have happened to you if I’d been faster.”

“Hey,” he shifted and moved so he was standing next to her, close but not touching, his gaze intent. “You tried to save me and you had no idea who I was—and yeah, Hydra sent you to do it, but it was you Red. You were out there I know just what a hellhole that was. If you weren’t standing here alive, I’d be terrified because I have no idea how you could have gotten out. But I really, really glad you did.”

She shifted, meeting his gaze. “But more lies.”

“Not _your_ lies,” he said firmly. “You didn’t lie to me. You didn’t _know_. They took a lot away for you…from us. God I wish I’d known you’d been there, before Fury sent you in. I wish he’d…”

“Not been so proud of himself when he let you know I belonged to him?”

His expression darkened. “You are not a possession.”

“I know…”

“But if I had known…” He made a low sound in his throat and shook his head. “So many fucking things I’d have done differently.”

“We can’t play that game.”

“What game?”

“The what-if game—what if I had been faster, what if you hadn’t taken his idea, what if Nick hadn’t outed me the way he did, what if I had been honest from the beginning…”

“What if I hadn’t been such a self-involved jerk? What if I’d stopped doing things because I could and asked if I should? What if I’d had your back the way you had mine? What if I never let the damn Accords happen in the first place?” The self-recrimination in those words echoed acrid guilt in her gut.

“What if you hadn’t come looking for me later?” She pointed out.

“What if I’d stuck around instead of coming back here to cover my ass?” The retort made her smile.

“You had to come back to here.”

“And I had to come find you,” he said. “I’m always going to come find you.” He canted his head. “Tell me something I can do to help you right now… all I can feel is that you’re hurting and a million miles away.”

“I’m right here,” she admitted. “And I don’t know what you can do. It’s… there are these different pieces of me. They don’t all fit up anymore. When you’ve been unmade…and they pour something else in, it can be hard to distinguish between the fantasy and the reality. Then…even when you can…”

“The fantasy is still there.”

She nodded slowly. “I always thought Maria and I were just—a happy accident.” It seemed a small thing to focus on amidst all the rest, but it was just another piece of her they’d chipped.

“I don’t know that you weren’t,” he offered. “You didn’t let her finish whatever it was she wanted to say yesterday—and after you left, she clammed right up.”

“That’s Maria, she’s not as forthcoming with her emotions as I am.”

Tony actually barked out a laugh then took a long drink of his coffee. Still grinning, he said, “For what it’s worth, she cares. Even I can see that behind the icy façade she covers it up with. Maybe it’s not a healthy kind, but—unlike Nick, she did answer our questions about the device and she went with me to get it.”

To get it.

“It’s here?”

A slow nod. “In one of my labs. Locked down. It’s not the only one,” he told her. “There’s another—the one Talbot and his people took. Friday and I are already looking for it.”

“I want to see it,” Natasha said ignoring the sudden crackling sensation inside her. It was like the ice floe had begun to spread out and even the hot coffee couldn’t slow it.

“Can we wait until after breakfast?” Tony asked as he set his cup down and checked his watch. “Speaking of which, Friday, where are they?”

“Security is scanning as we speak, Boss. It will be loaded in the elevator momentarily.”

Surprise flickered through her. “You’re not going to tell me I can’t see it or try to protect me from it?”

“I want to Red,” Tony admitted, meeting her gaze. He looked so bruised and battered. She lifted a hand to brush some of the hair away from the scrape on his forehead. There was a purpling mark there, like he’d taken a real blow. But the swelling had diminished. He didn’t move away as she smoothed his hair down. “But you were right at the party—you’re not an op. You’re an Avenger. You’re my friend. You’re—a lot to me. I’m not going to try and keep stuff from you just because it’s hard for me to hear or wrap my mind around. I never want to see you in pain.”

He captured her hand when she lowered it. His grip was light, not confining and he raised his eyebrows, asking if it was all right. The agitation that slid over her skin the last couple of days was still there, a low humming buzz.

“That said…I’m making an effort here. We all are. No one is going to try and put you in a corner again.” He was so serious. “Because no one puts Baby in a corner.”

The burn of tears in the back of her throat gave way to a huff of husky laughter and she rolled her eyes.

He grinned, then pressed a kiss to her hand. “Sun’s up. Sit now?”

“The food is on the way up, Boss—Natalia.”

Natasha blinked and glanced at the ceiling even as Tony frowned and glanced at one of Friday’s cameras. “Excuse me?”

“Testing it out Boss, not thinking that works either, Natasha.”

Chuckling, she said, “Patience, Friday. Nicknames are earned. They’re affectionate.”

“Like when Boss calls you Red or me Baby Girl?”

“Exactly. They have meaning for the person who gives you the nickname. I call you Fri sometimes, but that’s just shortening your name like when Clint calls me Nat, but that’s usually only reserved for those who are my closest friends.” Of which, Clint had been rather singular for many years.

She moved to the sofa as Tony eyed her.

Easing onto the sofa, she set her nearly empty coffee cup on the table then pulled her legs into a crisscross.

“Have you ever given someone a nickname?” Friday asked her tone inquisitive as the elevator chimed and Tony went to retrieve the rolling cart loaded with fresh baked goods, bacon, and something spicier if her nose was to be trusted.

“A few…I call Tony Shellhead cause of the helmet…”

“And because it annoys me,” Tony piped in.

Natasha grinned. “That too—but if it really annoys you…”

“No, no. It doesn’t—it annoys me when you call me Stark.”

She studied him as he brought the cart around. Stark was reserved for when she needed distance. When he wasn’t listening.

“Dig in, I’ll get you more coffee.”

“Tony, I can do that…”

“Red,” he said abruptly. “Talk to Friday, get yourself some food, and let me take care of you for a little while. Okay?”

She raised her hands in surrender. “Okay.”

With a nod he carried the mug back to the kitchen and she watched him go for a beat, then climbed up to go through the different trays on the cart. She found the bagels, and another with croissants. She got one of each, then added bacon to her plate, scrambled eggs, and fried potatoes. Her stomach seemed to wrap around her backbone. It all smelled fantastic and her mouth was watering. After yesterday, she intended to eat very slowly.

Carrying the heavily laden plate back, she said, “Do you want me to make up a plate for you?”

“I can do it,” Tony assured her. “The arm isn’t as bad as it looks, I’m just babying my shoulder.”

He’d cracked his collarbone. It was definitely as bad it looked. He set her coffee cup down as she curled back onto the sofa with her plate laden with food and started munching on a piece of bacon.

As hungry as she was, it would be better if she didn’t shovel it all in at speed, but she was on her third piece of bacon before her mouth and stomach caught up to her mind’s advice. Tony was back with his coffee and he put some cream cheese on a bagel while he watched her.

“Ask,” she told him.

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “It—I’m glad to have you here and I can actually mind my own business.”

“No, you really can’t.”

“In fact,” he argued. “I can not mind my own business. Okay—so you don’t have to answer this…”

“Tony.”

He grinned. “Did you ever hit on Pepper when you were at SI? Since you know—you swing both ways?”

Lips quirking, she smiled. “Nope.” Which was one hundred percent the truth. Pepper hit on her, not the other way around. “It wasn’t necessary for the mission.”

“Huh.” He took a bite of his bagel thoughtfully.

“Natasha?” Friday inquired.

“Oh,” she said, then washed down the bite with a swallow of coffee. She might approach something nearing human any moment now. “Nicknames. Um…” The elevator chimed and she glanced back to see Clint arriving and she grinned. “I call Clint, Idiot.”

“Yes, she does…” he told her and flipped her off as he diverted right for the coffee. He’d showered, his hair was damp and he’d changed clothes. He looked a little worn on the edges but not as exhausted as the day before. Settling back, she met Tony’s amused glance.

Still smiling she said, “But as to your earlier question? I’d have totally tapped that.”

He choked on a bite, his eyes widening a fraction and then a laugh spluttered out of him. Natasha took a bite of the eggs and some of the ice that had been sliding through her cracked and chipped away.

She could still be normal.


	3. Steadfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony, Steve, and Bucky deal with Nick and Maria as well as the retrieval of the memory machine.

**Chapter Three**

**Steadfast**

**Tony**

_The previous day_

“Go Red,” Tony said after he hung up the phone. “You called it. Go. If Hill wants to cooperate she can make an appointment to see you later.” The gauntlet on his hand offered him cold comfort. The desire to just blast Fury through a wall bubbled inside of him. Once upon a time, he thought of the SHIELD director as a nuisance—an overbearing know-it-all with a God-complex and a penchant for shoving his nose where it didn’t belong. He was so much fucking worse.

Then there was Hill. Fuck, he’d only ever wanted to punch a couple of women—both of whom had Extremis in their systems—in his life, but Hill had graduated right to the top of the list at the moment.

Natasha was holding on by a thread, what little color she’d sported earlier had drained away leaving her pale, haunted, and trembling. Her vitals were in the orange, not critical but not good. The fact Natasha stood up to leave, nonverbally calling it quits at least for her, firmed his conviction to keep Fury and Hill as far away from her as possible. If she wanted a wall between her and them, he’d arm it to the teeth.

“Was the affair real or was that just another memory you plopped in there?” The question rolled through the room like a harsh tide, silencing the conversation. Clint braced the elevator open when she didn’t step farther into it.

His gut tightened at the emptiness in that question. Natasha was not a cold person, no matter how icy and remote a façade she could present to the rest of the world. Beneath it all was a deeply passionate and caring woman who’d suffered unimaginable horrors over and over again—now, even confronted by another betrayal, she asked a question Tony wasn’t sure he could bear to hear answered.

“That was real…or as real as it could be considering how it started.” Hill’s words were like heavy stones dropped into the pond, the ripples slapping at all of them. Steve’s shoulders went rigid and while Bucky hadn’t released Fury or moved away from him, his eyes had gone even flatter if possible. The horrible similarity to the image of his empty face when the Soldier killed Tony’s parents flashed across Tony’s mind and yet this was another façade, armor because when Nat hurt, they all did.

“The machine.” The emptiness in Natasha’s voice twisted something inside him. The fact Hill’s expression cracked to reveal genuine pain did little to ameliorate Tony’s anger.

“That’s part of what I wanted to tell you…it was an unexpected byproduct.” Manipulated into an affair. Whether it had been their intention or not—Maria had allowed it to happen.

“Great. Good to know. Goodbye, Maria…” Nat took a step backward and Clint put a hand on her back to keep her steady. Tony hadn’t thought the hits could get worse than when she’d told him she really didn’t want to be touched. After days of torture, he could understand it. Fuck, he hadn’t wanted to be touched either after Afghanistan. He’d barely wanted to talk to people much less have them touch him.

“The machine—the one Nick’s giving you. It wasn’t the only one. There was _another_ in the bank vault. Talbot and the others took it into custody after SHIELD went down. During the clean up. They have it…and I’m pretty sure that’s where Ross got his tapes.”

Talbot. Tony would deal with him soon enough. The elevator doors closed behind Natasha and Clint, then and only then did Steve let Maria go. She rubbed her biceps where Steve had held her and glanced to where Bucky still had a gun planted against the side of Nick’s head.

“Are you planning on shooting him?” she asked.

“I haven’t decided,” Bucky answered and it wasn’t a jest. Tony’s left shoulder and arm hurt, the cracked collarbone along with the easy dozen or more bruises he’d gained between his initial fight with The Mandarin and during the fallout of their escape.

Their escape…

_But she snorted and put a foot one either side of the man’s downed head, gripped with her ankles and twisted. His neck snapped as she held Tony’s gaze. “This is exactly who I am.”_

Steve shifted his weight. “Buck.”

With a low sound of disgust, Bucky released the pirate king and straightened. Nick had the temerity to smirk, then he met Tony’s gaze. “You boys all think you know what’s best.”

“No,” Steve answered him flatly. “We don’t. But we do know _bad_ when we see it. This…” He motioned from Nick to Maria and back. “This is why SHIELD let Hydra grow inside it. The arrogant misconception that you can’t be wrong, that you do know best, that _manipulating_ other people to achieve your goals is the way to do it rather than just _ask_ or at the very least be honest about the stakes.”

Bucky said nothing, his posture stiff where he stood two feet behind Nick. Even one bad move out of the man and Tony didn’t think Fury would be walking out of here.

Maria put her hands on her hips and head down as she shook it slowly. “Nearly every mission Natasha ran was…”

“Hill,” Fury snapped.

“Director, they’re right—well Rogers is, anyway. When we agreed to take SHIELD down we did it for a reason.”

“This,” Steve reiterated. “This is why we did it. And if you can’t see that what you did to her was no different than what Hydra did…”

“We weren’t…” Fury began then stopped.

“Go ahead, Nick. Lie to us some more, that’s been really working for you so far,” Tony said as he circled the chair he’d been sitting in. the gauntlet retracted to his watch and he picked up the sling he’d abandoned and worked his left arm back into it. Sleeping on the sofa most of the night had left him rested if stiff.

_“If you stay tonight, there are other beds on this floor. Might be better than the sofa.”_

He still didn’t quite know what to make of Steve’s invitation. It irked him and surprised him and almost made him want to take him up on the offer all at once just to see what happened. Better than the alternatives, the arguments and the poking. He’d told Natasha he’d stop and he had. Retrieving his coffee mug, he met Nick’s bland stare.

“What’s it going to be?” Steve asked when Nick offered nothing more.

“I told you in San Francisco,” Nick said switching his attention to Steve. “What was done to her was on me.”

“No, what you said was the red didn’t belong in her ledger, it belonged in yours. If you primed her for that device and Pierce and the others took advantage of it, then you’re damn right that’s on you. But beyond that…”

“You used her,” Bucky supplied, his tone chilled. “You used her like every other master who held her leash without regard for what your acts would do to her.”

“You do realize that until now—it hasn’t affected her.” Not that he sounded like he believed it.

“Bullshit.” Tony glared. “Until recently, she didn’t know she couldn’t trust you. That she’d never been able to trust you. Until now, she didn’t know what you’d hidden from her.”

“If…” Maria said into the pregnant silence. “If it had only been our actions at The Guest House, saving those agents because she gave us the data we so desperately needed and later when we scrubbed the details of the experiments entirely from her… _if_ that had been all… then I would agree with the director.” From Hill, the words seemed to shut Nick up. “But it wasn’t just us. We did take advantage of her enhanced status—and we laid the groundwork for what Pierce used her to do.”

“They sent her after me,” Tony said, showing the one card they might consider if Nick wanted to turn he and Natasha against each other. Wedging between loyalties to work his way inside was one of his methods. “In Afghanistan, Pierce deployed her to prevent my kidnapping. A little too late from the sounds of it, but that was one mission.”

The lack of surprise on Nick’s face suggested he’d worked that one out. Maria frowned. Apparently, she hadn’t been privy. Oh gee, Nick kept secrets from her, too. Shocker.

“I gave you the files the captain requested,” Nick said finally as he folded his arms. “You can have the memory machine. I figure you plan on destroying it.”

“You figure correctly,” Steve told him flatly. It didn’t matter what they planned on doing with it, Fury would never touch it again. When Steve caught Tony’s gaze, the question in his eyes was plain as day. _What about the other machine?_

Nodding once, Tony lifted his mug as if toasting. They were definitely getting the other machine and anything else to do with it. Between this and Oscorp, he’d have his hands full but he had zero intentions of leaving any threats to her lingering _anywhere_. No, Tony was over their past coming back to strike at her. His. Hers. Bucky’s. Steve’s. Any of them.

Understanding filtered through Steve’s expression and in a rare moment of total accord, they understood each other. They were in lockstep on this one. Then Steve looked at Maria. “Are you going to help or get in the way?”

Chin lifted, she stared at Steve, then Bucky, though the former Winter Soldier never removed his gaze from Nick. Finally, Maria shifted her attention to Tony. “Do I still have a job?”

“It depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you plan to continue working with him.” Tony nodded to Nick. “You’ve done more than burn bridges. You firebombed the supply lines. You’re either with us or you’re against us at this point.”

Too often their agenda did not sync up with the Avengers.

“I’m staying,” she answered after a significant pause. Maybe she had to weigh her options of where she wanted to be versus whatever she had been planning otherwise. “I’d like to stay.”

Nick sighed.

“Fantastic,” Tony said. “Let’s go. Steve, you can handle this here?”

Steve nodded once. “We got this.”

A message flickered across Tony’s glasses. Natasha was asleep. Clint was staying with her. Her vitals were still in the orange, definitely in pain with faintly elevated blood pressure.

“Am I going in armed?” Maria asked him as they headed for the elevator.

“Did someone take your gun when I wasn’t looking?” Tony asked her idly. His ARC reactor was still on and visible at the center of his shirt.

“No,” she replied drily as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside.

“Then you’re going armed. But don’t forget…” he said as the doors closed. “So am I.”

“I wouldn’t make that mistake.” Maria folded her arms, but kept her gaze firmly forward as the elevator ascended. She followed him out onto the penthouse level and he trusted her at his back because Friday clocked her every movement. He led the way out to the quinjet and slid into the pilot’s seat after nodding her to sit in the co-pilot’s chair.

“Friday, let Steve know we’re en route and we’ll update him.”

“I’ll take care of it, Boss.” A message flashed on his glasses that she’d locked down Steve’s floor. Steve and Bucky would be able to access it and Tony, but no one else. The ramped-up security would let her sleep undisturbed.

As the quinjet took off, he glanced at Maria. “Coordinates?”

She unfolded her arms then entered them without comment. The near stony silence surrounding her was a visceral thing.

Despite his aggravation with Maria, Tony inspected the suspicious sensation of sympathy creeping through him. He and Pepper had failed for a number of reasons, but among them had been his inability to confide in her and hers to genuinely hear him.

_“He should have trusted me.”_

_“You should have trusted him.”_

Pepper’s loss had been an ache. A wound that stung and wouldn’t close properly, but scar tissue had begun to form and he could look at it with more than just recrimination and regret. That she was still his friend was something he should value more than he had. The resentments he’d nursed had faded sometime between the kidnapping and her volunteering for SPARK.

Had Maria and Nat failed for similar reasons? Was that the question she was asking herself now? They hadn’t communicated—but was that a choice or because Natasha had been under the thumb of others? The whole thing was a sticky ball of string and each time he thought it might unravel, it peeled into a fresh layer of knots.

“Don’t pity me,” Maria said crisply.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he lied. “You made your bed.” That part was true enough.

“I’m aware of what I did,” she said, her attention on the landscape ahead of them as they angled away from Manhattan and headed toward Jersey. Apparently, the coordinates of where she’d wandered off for her so-called weekend she’d supposedly binged _Game of Thrones._ “I’m not apologizing to you for it.”

“Didn’t ask for one.” Nor would he.

“You don’t trust me.”

“Nope,” Tony agreed with her on that assessment. “You haven’t been particularly trustworthy, have you?”

Maria snorted. “You’re one to talk. You don’t trust anyone. Not even Romanoff.”

He didn’t owe her any explanations.

“You dig into people’s lives, explore their secrets—you dug into SHIELD, why didn’t _you_ notice Hydra?”

“Because I was looking for weapons and I found what I was looking for,” he told her. “Weapons you and Nick were both well aware of—and that’s the stinger for the two of you, isn’t it? You were doing what Hydra wanted, only you dressed it up and called it for God and country or whatever label you wanted to put on it. Is that what you told yourself when you asked her to do you that favor?”

Asked her for a favor and no questions and then Natasha trusted her enough to do it—and they did _that_ to her.

But Maria didn’t answer. He glanced at her once. The line of her jaw could have cut glass it was so sharply held. They were closing in on their destination. Interesting that it had been that close all along. But then that was SHIELD, cobbling together the shadows to buttress their plans against public scrutiny. Compartmentalizing everything meant no one had the whole picture. Nick thought he had and even he hadn’t realized that his knowledge had been sectioned.

If Tony had dug deeper, been a little less arrogant and a little less aggravated with having SHIELD in his face again, he might have found something before it all went to hell and nearly took all of them with it.

He learned from that lesson, though.

Then again, less than six months before he dragged the team into the Accords whether they wanted to be there or not. He was damn lucky they were still with him at all.

Their destination turned out to be a compound located on about three hundred acres marked as private land. The local maps indicated no hunting or hiking was permitted within the marked area. It also listed no development projects.

Maria directed him toward a small break in the trees that required the quinjet to descend then move forward through a cloaking screen of trees to where the facility waited—four buildings collected together like military barracks and a hanger.

The doors to the hanger opened as they touched down. He switched the glasses to combat mode before he motioned her out of her chair and then followed after her. They descended the ramp with her about three steps ahead of him.

“Hill,” one of the men greeted her. Tony scanned the faces of the three awaiting them. None of the names registered as familiar, one engineer and two security personnel, but he filed them away. Just like he did the security precautions, the dimensions of the building and more. Friday could move a satellite later and give him deeper scans than she was likely already doing via his glasses and the quinjet’s sensors.

There was a hover cart carrying a large oblong device in a crate that looked like it would fit a coffin.

_“I was conscious for a few moments after he stabbed me,” Natasha said, her gaze distant. “But I couldn’t stay that way. I tried, but I heard Pepper scream and then it went dark. When I opened my eyes again, I was in a padded box, but the air was all sweet-smelling—pretty sure he was gassing me to keep me out and I was in a coffin.” She shook her head. “Or at least it felt like a coffin.”_

“We were just expecting Iron Man.”

“Then you’re not disappointed,” Hill told him archly. “Is everything with it?”

The engineer nodded. “I reinstalled the hard drive.”

Maria held out her hand and the engineer passed her a datapad. It was a modified version of one of his. He’d take issue with their modifying his tech later. She swiped across the screen, entered a command string that took her into their database. Friday kept a running tally for him in the corner as she slipped in through the Bluetooth connect and then began a deep dive, including inserting a worm to upload everything to the satellite.

No. More. Secrets.

Highlighting a series of files, Maria swept them all into a grouping and sent them directly to Friday before she deleted them.

“Deputy Director…”

“When I want your opinion Agent, I’ll ask for it,” she told him without looking up. Another few commands and the files on Natasha and Clint vanished, as did the details on the Avengers.

Interesting.

Still, they had a long way to go on this particular trust-building exercise beyond this little dog and pony show. In the meanwhile, he hijacked command of the motorized loader and waited for Friday to give him the all-clear before he moved the beast of equipment aboard the quinjet.

Finished, Maria handed the pad back to the engineer. “That will be all.”

At her statement, the security frowned but they didn’t argue as they retreated back into the building. Tony continued his scans as he secured the crate in the quinjet, then eyed Maria as she returned to the ramp.

“Planning on coming back to the Tower?”

“Well, I’m about to burn bridges here and you told me to choose. I’m choosing.” Actually, Natasha told her to choose, but whatever.

Tony studied her for a beat. Pupil reactivity, heart rate, respiration, all within reasonable margins. While Maria was not Natasha, she was a highly trained agent. It might be simple enough for her to fake it.

“Fine, you come back, you’re working for me and no one else. You don’t report to Nick, you don’t make plans behind our backs, and you _don’t_ talk to Natasha unless she seeks you out.”

The corner of Maria’s mouth lifted. “You do realize the tighter you close your hand around her, the faster she’s going to slip through your fingers?”

“You work for me and no one else. You don’t report to Nick. You don’t make plans behind our back. You _don’t_ talk to Natasha unless she seeks you out.” For the time being, he could shield Natasha until she was on her feet. If and when the time came that she wanted to deal with Maria—and based on that earlier exchange, that was a big if—she would handle it herself.

Spreading her hands, Maria said, “I can live with those terms.”

“You know the one thing that makes me wonder about you, Maria…” he said as he stepped to the side and allowed her to board before he shut the ramp.

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“You knew she was missing and you didn’t even ask how she was—or express any relief that she’s back.” The flash of surprise was gone so quickly; he was going to have to review the security tapes later to check if he’d actually seen it.

Once back in the pilot’s seat, he had the quinjet lifting before Maria had even strapped herself in. The lack of commentary was in and of itself a comment.

Maria was on uneven ground with Natasha and she knew it. But she’d switched allegiances because Nat challenged her. Nat put her back on her heels. Life just kept getting more interesting.

“Friday, let Cap know we’re inbound and returning, he can kick Nick out anytime he feels like it.”

“I’ll pass the message along, Boss. I’ve secured a lab for you to place the equipment and I’ve got the jammers set up. I’m also reviewing the files, Deputy Director Hill sent over.”

Maria grimaced and Tony smirked. “Not the deputy director anymore, Baby Girl. She pinky promises she’s working for me.”

“Good to know, Boss. I’ll make a note of the occasion since our records indicate we have employed her for over two years. Should legal investigate a return on the investment?”

With a sigh, Maria stared at him. “Even your AI has your sense of humor.”

No, that was all Red.

Tony just smiled. “We’ll keep that in our back pocket for now.”

**Red Status**: _Sleeping_, flashed in the corner of his glasses. Good. Once he got this nightmare back to the Tower, he’d get to work on locating the other one. There was still the ship in China, but he wanted to talk to Natasha about that when she was feeling better. If there was an alien vessel out there, he did not want it falling into anyone else’s hands, but so far he and Friday had come up with bupkis on the scans. As loath as he was to bring up The Mandarin to her, she had a way of getting people to talk to her.

“Boss, Ms. Carter left a message about this week’s meetings with the Committee for you to review when you get back.”

Yeah. Then there was _that_ headache.

In the co-pilot’s seat, Maria said nothing, but kept her attention straight ahead. Was she regretting her decision already?

Did he care?

Not. At. The. Moment.

He rubbed his shoulder briefly then shifted. He needed more pain relievers. Had it really only been a few hours since Strange had dropped in? A wizard? He went looking for a neurosurgeon and he found a wizard, or more correctly put, the wizard found him. At the same time, Natasha had responded to him and as terse as Strange was, he seemed to grasp the nuances of the situation without needing them explained.

So, that was another situation to keep his finger firmly on the pulse of.

Longest. Sunday. Ever.

But Natasha was safe.

They could handle everything else.

**Steve**

The moment the elevator doors closed on Tony and Maria, Steve faced the former director and shifted his shield to the side. “You know every time I think you can’t get lower, you manage to surprise me.” It wasn’t a compliment.

“Cap, the world is a dark place.” Once upon a time, Nick had been able to use that language to lull him into following in Peggy’s footsteps. She’d built SHIELD with Colonel Phillips and Howard Stark. Everything about the organization meant well, flourishing under the guidance of its three founders—a spy, a military man, and a scientific genius. SHIELD excelled in those areas, but it was that compartmentalization of secrets and skills that also created fertile ground for Hydra to flourish in the shadows they created. Then he'd used Natasha to keep Steve there.

“Maybe so, but it doesn’t need more shadows—it needs fewer.”

Behind Nick, Bucky stared bullet holes into the man’s skull. His expression hadn’t shifted once since hearing about the memory machine they’d used on Natasha. Not only had they used it but they’d also employed deceptive practices to do so because—_she could heal._ Yet whatever damage they’d inflicted _hadn’t_ healed. Or it hadn’t until recently, because she had forgotten.

Twelve times.

Steve clenched his fist.

As if Bucky weren’t right behind him, Nick spread his arms. “The world doesn’t work that way, Captain. You may want to shine a light on everything and pretend that the greatest generation lived in the sun, but they didn’t anymore than we do. Danger lurks in the shadows, it always has. We have to be there to meet it _before_ it steps into the light.”

The impatience in Nick’s voice coupled with the cynicism left Steve shaking his head. “Then you simply become the danger you’re supposed to be stopping. You’re right, we did things during the war we’re not proud of—that _I’m_ not proud of. We’ve had to scrimp and scrape before to survive. We had to put our needs ahead of others—but actively choosing to sacrifice the sanity and the well-being of others to fix a mess I created—we _don’t_ trade lives.”

“Of course you do,” Nick said with a glare. “You traded Natasha’s for your friend Bucky here. You traded Stark for it, too. You traded the Avengers for your sense of right versus wrong. You traded yourself for the city of New York, and all of you did the same when the Chitauri came. You were willing to do that in Sokovia—or did you forget what Natasha said _then? _We _trade _lives, Steve. If you think otherwise, then you’re a fool.”

_“The next wave’s gonna hit any minute. What have you got, Stark?” He had to work to catch his breath. The air was getting thinner. Natasha stood only a couple of feet away and her panting had grown shallower the longer they fought._

_“Well, nothing great. Maybe a way to blow up the city. That’ll keep it from impacting the surface, if you guys can get clear.” The edge in Tony’s voice hadn’t been clear to him then, but in hindsight, he couldn’t miss the frustration and the concern. Defeating Ultron was one thing, saving the city was another—but leaving the Avengers there? That hadn’t been acceptable._

_“I asked for a solution,” Steve chided him. “Not an escape plan.” They could probably pull getting off away. Thor at least could carry Natasha and Clint, the big guy could jump. Steve was pretty sure he could survive that and Tony could catch Steve or some combination thereof. They had a quinjet, too. There were _options_, but…_

_“Impact radius is getting bigger every second.” Tony’s voice hardened, his tone declaring these were facts. “We’re going to have to make a choice.” One he didn’t want to have to make. One none of them _should_ have to make._

_“Cap,” Natasha’s voice, calm and capable, grounded him even as she pulled his attention. “These people are going nowhere. If Stark finds a way to blow this rock…”_

_Not her too. “Not ‘til everyone’s safe.” There had to be a way. He wouldn’t sacrifice all these innocents who’d been caught in the crosshairs of Ultron’s war against the Avengers._

_“Everyone up here versus everyone down there?” Natasha’s tone held a note of derision, yet like Stark earlier, she said it like it was pure fact. “There’s _no_ math there.”_

_He got it. But dammit… “I’m not leaving this rock with one civilian on it.”_

_“I didn’t say we should leave.” The calm in her acceptance pulled him around to stare at her. Was she—yes, she was serious. There was a smile tipping her lips and a comforting certainty in her eyes as she held his gaze. “There are worse ways to go. Where else am I gonna get a view like this?”_

_Simultaneously buoyed by her presence and desperate to make sure this wasn’t her last view, Steve fought to think of a way around the awe he experienced. It was similar to that moment when she leapt off his shield in New York. She was—everything._

Then Fury had arrived and the moment punctured, but it had been there. “Romanoff,” he reminded Nick. “Don’t use her name.”

Nick sighed, and then glanced at Bucky. “If you’re going to shoot me, do it now before I get my coffee because if you spill that we’re going to have words.” Then like he wasn’t facing off against the two of them he walked into the kitchen with Buck tracking his every movement.

“You showed up in San Francisco claiming you care about her. You threaten me to be good to her like you have a right to do so—then you keep after her, even sending Maria to do your dirty work at the party. What is your game, Nick?”

“That’s complicated, Cap. And I do care about her, _not_ that I owe either of you an explanation.” He poured a cup of coffee from the second of the two coffee makers. The other had been brewed for him and Bucky. Not that they’d drunk much since Nick and Maria’s arrival.

Folding his arms, Steve studied the former director balefully. “Have you ever met a straight answer?”

“On occasion. As I recall, the last straight answer I gave you, you didn’t appreciate.”

“That she tried to kill herself?” Steve raised his brows. “That wasn’t Natasha.”

“It damn well—”

“It wasn’t,” Bucky cut him off abruptly and stared at Nick. “If you thought it was, even looking back, then you don’t know her. Natalia would never kill herself. If they were messing with her, amending her memory, creating gaps or worse—it was a cry for help that you missed.”

Steve swallowed at the description. A cry for help. How many had she released over the years? How many before she just stopped?

“Then that’s on me, too,” Nick said without flinching. “I’m not a perfect man. Never pretended to be. I do what I think is best, I’ll always do what I think is best. Sometimes that means we make mistakes…” His gaze moved to Steve’s. “Sometimes that means we tear it down and it all goes. Which we did. Now I’m starting over.”

“Doesn’t feel like you’re starting over,” Steve told him honestly. What had Natasha said a few weeks ago? Nick had rebuilt SHIELD. She’d removed Ross as an obstacle for him, and he had SHIELD up and running. “Feels like you just resurrected a corpse that should have been burned to ash and salted.”

Shaking his head, Nick sighed then took a sip of his coffee. “The world is always going to have threats. The Avengers are for the ones we can’t do on our own. SHIELD is to stop the ones we can before they become the problems you have to face.”

“Do you even have government sanction or are you doing this as a rogue organization?” Why was he even asking that question? A part of him got it. It was Peggy’s legacy, but Steve couldn’t protect that part of it anymore. The only way he’d been able to protect her memory had been to destroy what Hydra corrupted.

“Let’s say what they don’t acknowledge can’t hurt them in the polls.” The derisive note confirmed Steve’s opinion of politicians.

“In other words,” Bucky drawled. “They are choosing not to know.”

“Plausible deniability, a function of government oversight for centuries.” Setting the mug down, Nick pointed two fingers at Steve. “You want assurances, the problem is the world can’t give you those without lying and neither can I. Do I mean N—Romanoff harm? No. Do I mean the Avengers harm? Also no. I’m trying to help you.”

“You realize no one asked you for help,” Bucky pointed out, his tone bland and dry.

Nick studied Bucky for a moment. “You and I have an odd kind of acquaintance, but I don’t consider several bullets a bonding experience. The collapsed lung sucked. So, do us both a favor and leave this conversation to me and Cap.”

With a smirk, Bucky said, “I don’t do favors for people I don’t like. You want to browbeat Steve into accepting your interpretation of events or at least, accepting on face value, what you’re offering—not that you’ve offered squat.”

“The files I provided Barton or the memory machine being an exception?” Nick challenged him.

“Can the crap, Nick.” Steve was tired. Natasha had been through Hell. None of them had slept _well_ in days. Exhausted to the point of trembling, she’d made the tactical call to withdraw and that was after more than one emotional blow from Maria and Nick and after ripping herself open for Strange. Natasha wanted her daughter back, even a scrap of information was worth any amount of suffering to her. Nothing could be clearer, but instead of being with her, keeping her safe, he was facing off against Fury and while Tony and Maria went to get the memory machine. “You wouldn’t have done either without our demanding it. If you’d had your way, you’d have quietly scooped Natasha up and vanished back into the shadows.”

The thought made him sick.

“I’d keep her safe, Cap,” Nick told him and the damn thing was…

“You actually believe yourself, even after everything.”

Nick shrugged. “Before—Romanoff believed it, too. She accepted that there were gray areas for all of us. Before, she would have been the first one back into the fight. Even when she was on the run she was still fighting.”

“Before,” Steve reiterated. Before Tony. Before Steve. Before the Avengers. Before SHIELD turned out to be Hydra. Oh, he got the before.

Staring into his cup for a beat, Nick shook his head. “She was the first… you know that right. The First Avenger. We call you that now because you were Captain America during the war. But she was the first one _I_ picked for the team. The first one I knew needed to be on it. She was enhanced, she was skilled, and she was…”

“Malleable,” Bucky supplied when he hesitated. “But that’s the wrong word for her.”

“She’s loyal,” Steve picked up the thread. “When you earn it, there’s nothing she won’t do for you. You wanted her on the team because you wanted to control us, or at least keep a finger on us through her… Didn’t work out for you, did it?”

It wasn’t really a question. Nat had protected them all. She’d been a voice of reason. She’d thrown herself into every fight, she’d trained them, she’d fought to make them all better and when they came apart at the seams, she fought to keep them together. When she found a way to clear them, she took it. Now—now she was stepping out into the light fully to take on the world’s government leaders alongside Tony to protect them.

“Not so much.” Not that Nick sounded unhappy about it.

“So I guess the only question left,” Bucky said, his tone still flat and empty. If anything, he sounded so alien compared to the man he’d become since returning from Wakanda. But then, he wasn’t going to share anything personal with Nick. Steve got that. “What are you going to do?”

Nick met Bucky’s gaze for a prolonged moment. “Keep doing what I’ve been doing. Keep helping. Rebuild SHIELD, protect the planet—try to fix the mistakes that were made. Including finding out what they used her for, make sure there’s nothing out there waiting to come for her. What are you two planning to do?”

The corner of Steve’s mouth lifted, but before he could respond, Friday said, “Captain Rogers, Boss is on his way back with the package. He said you can kick out Director Fury whenever you’re ready.”

He’d been ready before he even arrived, but Natasha had questions she needed answers to.

“I guess that’s my cue.” Nick straightened, and then drained his coffee. He set the mug down. Then he pulled a card out of his pocket and set it on the counter. “When Romanoff is ready to talk, tell her to call me.”

Yeah, they’d get right on that. Neither he nor Bucky responded. Bucky did glance at Steve when Nick headed for the elevator. Steve shook his head. “Friday?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“Send the director to the first floor and out the front doors. He’s not to be admitted without authorization.”

“Understood.” The elevator doors closed behind him and Steve sagged a little. Emotion bled back into Bucky’s face.

“We shouldn’t have let him walk out.”

“Buck, we can’t just kill him because we don’t like him.”

“Can we kill him if he’s a threat?” Bucky asked, his bland tone at odds with the deadly serious look on his face. Nat’s Glock vanished back into the holster Bucky had slipped on after Natasha removed it. He hadn’t bothered to buckle it, it wouldn’t fit him properly anyway, but the gun was secure enough.

The problem was, he didn’t have an answer for that question. So, instead, he said, “Friday, how is Natasha?”

“She is asleep, Captain Rogers. Her vitals are still in the orange, though both her blood pressure and respiration have improved since she ceased activity and stress. Mr. Barton is with her, though I believe he is asleep as well. I have locked your floor down and instituted all security protocols. Director Fury is outside and I have tracked his progress to three blocks away where a vehicle picked him up. The windows were shielded hampering facial recognition on the driver. Currently, the SUV is making its way toward the Holland Tunnel.”

That was a lot more than he’d asked for, but he’d take it. “But Nat’s vitals are stable?” She’d been so worn around the edges and as much as she’d hidden it, she’d been trembling. If Clint hadn’t moved when he did, Steve would have. As it was, both he and Bucky didn’t want to leave Maria and Nick alone with Tony in the Tower. While Tony could handle himself, he was also injured.

“Yes, Captain. By my scans, her condition is more than fifteen percent improved from when she boarded the quinjet. Current calculations would suggest this will increase by another twenty-five to thirty-five percent with continued rest and sustenance.”

Nat had definitely eaten before they’d gone to lay back down—nearly five hours earlier. Dammit, it was almost mid-afternoon. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he tried to ignore the gritty feeling in his own eyes.

“Coffee,” Bucky said and Steve followed him into the kitchen. While he filled the mugs, Bucky glanced in the fridge and pulled out a platter of ready-made sandwiches Steve half-forgot Tony used to keep those in stock. Sometimes when the team returned, they were starving and didn’t have the energy to cook.

Had it only been a few hours earlier that Natasha told him she loved him? It seemed ages and yet not enough. This was after revealing she had some memories of her daughter, of using the name Rogers when she’d fled Montana and the knowledge twisted in his gut. Decades before he met her, she had taken his name and held some affection. She’d admitted to loving his movies, the almost shy way she’d confessed that had charmed him utterly, but this? This was both surreal and probably the most humbling thing he’d ever heard pass from her lips.

She’d used his name as a shield. In some small way, he’d been with her before he ever knew her. Eating his way through three sandwiches steadily let him avoid saying anything as he turned the thoughts over in his head. Bucky mirrored his actions, his attention split between Steve and the windows looking out at the city.

“I told her I loved her,” he admitted aloud and the harshness of Bucky’s profile eased as he smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve exhaled. “For a short time there, I thought I wouldn’t get that chance and then…I had to tell her.”

“Good.” His expression relaxed gradually. “She loves you, too. You know that, right?”

He had known that. “She told me.”

Bucky glanced at him. “Good,” he murmured again. “She told me, too.”

Surprise flickered through him. “She never told you before?”

A slow shake of his head. “To be fair, Stevie, before the island I hadn’t told her either. We never had the words for that. Don’t doubt for an instant that we weren’t passionately involved and we killed for each other, but tender words? No…we never had those. Love is for children. They pounded that into her…tried to carve out her heart, but they couldn’t. I always knew I mattered.”

“You mattered even when she didn’t know your name,” Steve reminded him. That knowing between them and the way Bucky kept gravitating to her.

_“I feel better when she’s close, and more when I can see her.”_

“I know. That she wanted to tell me—that she could, it’s a gift.”

On that, they were agreed. At the same time, it worried him. “What the hell did he do to her, Buck?”

“Too much,” Bucky answered, his tone sober. “They've all done too much. She’ll come through it. She needs time. We’ll be there for her just like we were when we first came back to the Tower.”

When they’d been triggering her and Steve hadn’t even realized. Bucky had noticed it first and once he’d seen the signs, Steve couldn’t unsee it. Her resistance to being touched, how they could crowd her, and that suddenly she’d go still and her eyes calculating as if she needed to know every exit strategy.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes—Boss has landed. Ms. Hill is still with him.”

That… surprised him.

They rinsed out their coffee cups and met the elevator when it opened. Tony leaned against the back wall with Maria in the opposite corner. The huge slated box nearly occupied the rest of the room leaving little space for him and Bucky to squeeze in.

Tony looked as weary as Steve felt, but there was something harsher in his eyes as he stared at the crate. When they reached a secure lab level, Steve and Bucky stepped out to let the crate float out on its hover device. Maria started forward and Tony pointed a finger at her.

“Nope. Stay.”

Then he trailed after the device with Bucky falling into step with him. Steve folded his arms and leaned against the locked open elevator doors. Maria resumed leaning against the wall, her expression cool, and professional almost—but not her eyes. Not quite.

“Is this the part where you warn me off Natasha?” she asked after a prolonged quiet. Steve hadn’t really decided what he was going to say, but he gave that question a shrug.

“Nat can handle herself,” he said, though he frowned at her. “I’m trying to reconcile the professional deputy director, seeming straight shooter, with someone who would manipulate her way into another woman’s bed.” That she’d managed to manipulate Natasha at all was a surprise.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Maria told him bluntly.

“You’re right, you don’t.” At the same time… “But she matters to me, Maria.” Real surprise flickered through her eyes. “A great deal. I won’t let anyone treat her poorly.”

“I told Stark I would work for him. I made my choice. I’ll cut my ties with Nick.” Though there was some regret there. Maybe he would have believed her before. In fact, he had believed her—_before_. “He made his rules pretty clear.”

“That’s working for Tony. Not the Avengers.”

Maria’s whole posture shifted. It was minute really, visible in the lift of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin and the faint narrowing of her eyes. But Natasha always said the details were in the body language. Even the most accomplished liars had tells. He’d only ever seen a couple in Nat, the barest flickers of them, unless something had knocked her off her game. Even then, her tells only appeared when she relaxed.

“I see.”

Did she? In truth, Steve doubted it. Maria had stepped on a lot of toes and most of those had been expected. She was deeply loyal to Nick, much as Nat had once been deeply loyal. On the surface, that loyalty had never seemed to present a conflict with her work for the Avengers.

Before…

Before the Accords.

Before Nick set his sights on bringing Natasha back in.

Before Steve learned that Maria and Natasha had apparently had a relationship even as Natasha chose distance.

Before Maria revealed that she’d been the one to put Natasha into the memory machine for a _favor_ and _no questions_ and that led to their relationship deepening? Whatever it was, it had _hurt _Nat.

So, all of that was definitely before.

The relationship didn’t bother him, the idea she manipulated and hurt Natasha definitely did. If Natasha didn’t want her around, then that was also their answer.

He wouldn’t make her any more uncomfortable than she had already been.

“Cap…” Tony called as he and Bucky returned. “Device secure.” His gaze tripped past Steve to Maria. “Do you know the actual location Talbot is storing the other one?”

“Not at the moment,” she admitted without missing a beat. “I can find out though. His people aren’t that good.”

Tony’s expression wasn’t guarded so much as assessing. “You up for getting us the location only?” A flick of a look to Steve that asked if he was all right with that? Steve gave the barest of nods and Tony returned his attention to Maria.

“Location only. Do you want the security protocols while I’m at it?” The dry comment seemed to amuse Tony.

“Sure, don’t worry, we’ll verify everything.”

Another nod.

“We’ll talk to you then. Friday…”

“I’ll see her down,” Bucky said, stepping into the elevator. “Make sure she gets out fine.”

Steve withdrew a step and didn’t smile until the elevator door closed on Maria’s very _not_ thrilled face.

“Yeah, she looked like she just sucked on a jalapeño flavored lemon…” Tony said with a hint of humor.

With a grimace, Steve glanced at him. “That is not a thing.”

“No—well at least I don’t think so.” Tony shrugged. “It’d be nasty either way. You got time to talk?” When he hesitated a beat, Tony added, “Red’s still sleeping. Friday is monitoring her vitals and can let us know if she’s in distress.”

Distress.

A really tame word for her nightmares.

Steve nodded once. “Okay, here? Or upstairs?”

“Upstairs. Friday let Bucky know after he kicks Maria to the curb.”

“Will do, Boss.”

“You’re letting her work for you?”

“She wants to work for me, I’ll let her hang herself.” The doors parted to let them aboard. “Not trusting her though.”

No.

She was going to have to earn that.

“Good.”

**Bucky**

After the elevator doors closed behind him, Bucky kept his gaze fixed on Hill as the elevator descended.

“Is this the part where you threaten me?” The near sardonic inquiry almost made him smile.

“Nope,” he told her. It wasn’t. It was more the part where he tried to figure her out. Maria Hill was a puzzle piece that didn’t fit. Pieces that didn’t fit usually had an agenda or created havoc. In general, he didn’t care. If her switching allegiances cost Fury something, then fine. But her shifting loyalty had cost Natalia and that was not so easy to overlook.

When he’d joked with Clint that Natalia had definitely had sex with Maria, he’d not imagined the emotional component. Maybe the feeling hadn’t been deep or lengthy, but it had existed and the sense of betrayal flickering in Natalia’s eyes and her posture? No, that bore some contemplation.

“You willing to answer a straight question?” Hill dared him with a challenge in her not-smile because the curve of her lips never reached her eyes.

“Depends on the question.”

“Stark wants me to stay away from Natasha. Steve just expressed his profound disappointment and made it clear that my working for Stark in no way gives me access to the Avengers. The ‘Captain America is disappointed in you’ look is one I haven’t seen since he and Nick got into it over SHIELD.” An almost bitter twist to her mouth as she shook her head. “Which one of them is she with? Or is that still up in the air?”

“Classified,” Bucky answered.

A snort. “So, it’s TBD.” Then… “You should warn them—she’ll always choose Barton. Every time. No matter what.”

“You shouldn’t have used her, maybe she would have chosen you.” Loyalty and devotion were two of her greatest traits, but she had avoided attachment at all costs. He’d been her sole attachment until Mary. Then after… it had been Barton. Now she had more again, she was letting herself trust more. But that also opened Natalia up to injury.

As the elevator doors opened, Hill exited after he stepped to the side. Security straightened at the desk and three more positioned around the entrances. There were tourists gathered outside and some press, but not nearly the thickness of the crowds that had been there in recent memory.

She took two steps away, then pivoted and returned. The wide-open gallery of the lobby should echo if you raised your voice, but something Tony had done, or built, kept sound from carrying. Bucky could appreciate the strategic nature of such technology, but it also created the need for full visual surveillance. Of course, he also had Friday to cover those angles.

“I’m not a threat to Natasha.”

“That remains to be seen,” he told her, nonplussed by her fierce frown.

All at once the emotion on her face wiped away for a more neutral expression. “When I asked her for the favor—I didn’t know the full extent of it.”

Was the admission supposed to ally him with her? “And after?”

“After it was too late—if I told her, it would have destroyed her trust in SHIELD.” What she didn’t say was it could have destroyed her trust in Maria. “To be honest…I didn’t think she’d care. She was—very different in some ways then than she is now.”

She was likely more guarded. Limited even amongst her allies. Something they must have known or they would have involved Clint. The one man she had trusted. On some level, Natalia would have expected betrayal. If Hill had warned her then—so many things might have been different. Including the fact she wouldn’t be an Avenger or with Steve. She’d have been out there in the world still, alone. Perhaps.

And she wouldn’t have been able to save Steve from the Soldier’s initial attack. None of them might be here today. Everything happened for a reason. Maybe even this betrayal. Not that it softened the blow.

“For what it’s worth, I’m on her side.”

“For what it’s worth,” he retorted. “I don’t care.”

A faint smirk touched her lips. “You don’t fool me, Sergeant. You’re just as invested in her as Stark and Rogers. I gotta admit—she’s got a way about her.”

With that, she pivoted and headed for the doors. Bucky remained watchful until she strode out the doors and tugged her jacket closer to her as the wind hit her. Maybe they should have offered her a car, but he doubted she would have taken it. Her place was only a couple of subway rides away.

“Sergeant Barnes?” One of the security guards called to him and Bucky glanced at him.

“Everything all right?” The man was in his mid-forties and he was one of the seniors on the shift. The others reported to him.

He nodded once. “All quiet down here?”

“For the most part, just some tourists doing their pictures. No one trying to get in except for those already cleared by Friday.”

“Good,” Bucky said with another nod. “Good afternoon.”

Stepping back inside, he let the doors close.

“Take me to Steve’s floor please, Friday.”

“Boss actually asked if you’d come up to the penthouse.”

With a sigh, he raked a hand through his hair. “Is Natalia still sleeping soundly?”

“Yes, Sergeant. No signs of emotional distress. Her pulse is steady, her respiration even. She appears to be in deep sleep. Mr. Barton is still with her.” Then, she added, “I am keeping a close eye on her, Sergeant. My protocols still allow me to notify you immediately if something disturbs her.”

Bucky frowned. Natalia had given them that permission after the episode in the penthouse. The leash she’d willingly extended to all of them. “Thank you, Friday.”

“You’re very welcome. Penthouse, then?” It was a gentle nudge, but he accepted it.

“Yes.”

The ride went swiftly. While he’d much prefer to return to Natalia and just be there if she needed him, she was at least safe with someone she trusted and there was a great deal they needed to handle. From getting rid of Fury and Hill to securing the memory machine. He’d ripped the crate open to verify it was indeed what was promised.

He wasn’t alone in his horror when he stared at the device. It looked more like something designed for torture rather than memory adjustment. Somehow, as much as it sickened him, the fact it was so barbaric in nature hadn’t surprised him. The only questions he had were how many times had she been subjected to it and what were the long-term effects.

A stony silence awaited him when the doors opened to the penthouse. Similar to the day Tony and Steve had argued over Tony’s _plan_ to trigger Natalia, they faced each other from opposite sides of the coffee table, only this time it was Tony standing near his heavily leaning tree—they really needed to do something with that tree—while Steve braced his hands on the back of the sofa staring at him.

“You’re telling me this why?” Steve asked, pausing for a beat to glance over his shoulder at Bucky as he exited the elevator. “Maria off?”

“Yep.” He flicked a look from one to the other. The tension in both men seemed to practically vibrate in the air. “Are you two ready to kiss and make up or do I have to separate you?” Frankly, he wasn’t in the mood for another of their arguments. Later, maybe. Not right now. As complicated as his relationship with Tony was, Bucky really didn’t seem to aggravate or be as aggravated by him as Steve was.

With one notable exception.

He diverted into Tony’s kitchen to get a pitcher of water and then carried it over to the tree as silence spread between the two. Glancing from the tree bucket to the pair, he raised his brows.

“Tony is explaining to me why we should be having all the sex with Natasha.” The fact Steve managed to say all of that without an ounce of red brightening his expression amused Bucky almost as much as the topic. Weirdly, Tony bringing up their sex life didn’t seem as out of place as it probably should.

The man had no decorum. For all his charm and smoothness, he could be as rough and uncouth as soldiers in the field or the dockworkers of Bucky’s youth.

“I didn’t say all _the_ sex,” Tony retorted. “I said you should probably resume sex as soon as she could tolerate the contact.”

“Because that sounds _so much_ better,” Steve replied.

Shaking his head, Bucky finished filling the tree bucket then eyed the poor beast. Someone needed to take better care of it. But at least it hadn’t dried out too much. The needles were still green.

“Is that just Steve or are you including me in this advice?” Bucky asked as he returned the pitcher to the kitchen. There was more coffee, but it didn’t smell that strong so he settled for a bottle of water and twisted the cap off before turning to face Tony.

“Well, I assumed she was double-dipping so yeah, you’re included. But he has the primary serum.”

Bucky frowned at him as Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am so going to regret asking this,” Steve said. “Why are you telling us this?”

“Because Red’s DNA is adaptable. After The Mandarin stabbed her, she was almost one hundred percent healed from a wound that went straight through her midsection in three days, maybe less. She recovered from repeated tortures including drowning and even right now, a little over twenty-four hours after we got her out, all of those cuts and wounds have already closed. Her neck, which was _trashed_ with that damn collar, looks almost fifty-five percent better.”

Frowning, Bucky considered the assessment. Tony wasn’t wrong. Natalia’s healing had been something that let her take tremendous risks, but she usually required some time…

“You think she’s adapting our DNA,” Bucky said abruptly.

Tony cocked his thumb and forefinger and pointed it at Bucky. “Bingo. Pretty sure that’s how you knocked her up, sustained exposure let her heal. My understanding is you had moments on and off again over the course of years, but never long-term regular exposure.”

No. They hadn’t.

And since he’d earned his way back to her bed, they’d been very active when they were together or she’d been with Steve. On the island…

Her health had taken a definite surge after they’d shared her. He glanced at Steve and could almost read the same thoughts tracking through his head. But that meant there was a real chance they could get her pregnant again. A small part of him thrilled to that knowledge but… not without her awareness.

“So, you’re encouraging sex because it will help her heal faster.” Steve stared at Tony with a look of surprise.

“It _has_ helped her heal faster. I think it’s also why she’s remembering.”

That jerked Bucky up. “The episodes.”

“Breaking the memory blocks. Remember what Cho said, the chances were that her body would have long-since healed if she hadn’t been repeatedly damaged?” Tony framed the question as though he needed to verify the doctor’s statement, but she had said it.

“She also said that it wasn’t that Natalia couldn’t get pregnant it was that she couldn’t sustain it—and that she had was because of me.” Because they’d left. Because once on the run, they had been lovers in total. He'd allowed nothing to harm her. She'd had at least two years to heal, to repair the damage of decades. Every stolen moment they’d treasured and… but Natalia hadn’t remembered as much then or had she just discounted it?

“I figure that let her have the baby and probably why she didn’t go through extreme memory recovery, there may not have been as much lost _then_ too.” Tony had followed the track of his thoughts almost perfectly. Frowning, he met the other man’s gaze. “And yes, I know it’s strange that I’ve spent this much time thinking about the two of you having sex with her. But…three-way super-soldier serum, Red gets stronger, she recovers faster—her brain begins to repair itself—_just like yours did.”_

Exhaling a breath, Bucky moved to sit in one of the chairs before he drained the water. “If you’re right, then she wouldn’t need to risk herself with SPARK or put herself through an episode while the doctor does another damn MRI or CT scan?”

Natalia did _not_ deserve to suffer that and at the same time, if her brain did heal fully, if the pathways were restored—she would get back far more than their relationship and Mary.

Could she handle it? Of that, he had no doubt, but it made him sick to think of what else she’d have to relive.

“Cap?” The quiet question in Tony’s voice pulled Bucky’s attention to Steve. His expression taut, Steve’s knuckles were white where his fists rested against the back of the sofa.

Steve shook his head. “This—is a lot to wrap my head around,” he said slowly. “We’re changing her. That’s essentially what you’re saying.”

“Well, I don’t think she’s going to suddenly grow a second head, but yeah—her DNA is adapting yours and repurposing it to help her. This is a _good_ thing.” Tony rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, a grimace of pain on his features.

“But does she know we’re changing her?” Steve asked. “Have you talked to _her_ about this?”

Tony shook his head. “No, not yet. I only really put it together… after The Mandarin took her. When I got to her—we weren’t really discussing that. She was too busy telling me off for trying to save her.” A faint smile touched his lips, a fond one…

Bucky frowned. “We’ll tell her.” They had no right to keep it from her regardless of whether it was true. “You are speculating…”

“Theorizing,” Tony corrected.

“Buck,” Steve said. “Was it like that? When she got pregnant? Were you together over an extended period? Versus all the other times you were together?”

Discussing his sex life with Natalia was not a topic he was comfortable with. He’d shared some with Steve, only in as much as to make him more comfortable. But the rest? Their past? No. She was too personal. Too precious. “Yes,” was all he would say.

“Succinct.” Tony eased onto a chair. “Look, I get it. This is personal. I’d be happy to never think about the three of you having sex no matter how hot it is.” Steve’s exasperated look was almost funny, almost. Bucky was too distracted by the rest to truly appreciate it. “Strange is examining her file and he’s going to want to do those tests. I’m not saying we don’t do them unless Red is truly against it. But I don’t think she will be.”

“Mary,” Steve said simply and something panged hard against Bucky’s heart.

Pursing his lips, Tony nodded once. “Among others.” Then he slanted a look at Bucky. “I see it as an opportunity for us to help her.”

_Us._

Lifting his chin, Bucky eyed Tony. The man had made no pretense of his feelings and if nothing else the last week had proven, the three of them could work together and when Tony focused, he was a force to be reckoned with.

“Strange said he needed a couple of days,” Steve said finally. “Nat’s—Nat’s got to have some time to rest. She’s already pushing herself. The machine is here—the crap with Maria and Nick.”

Tony grimaced. “Maria won’t bother her. Not unless Red seeks her out.”

“You trust Hill?” Bucky raised his brows.

“Not even an inch. But I’d rather have her where I can keep an eye on her. She could be useful. Maybe she genuinely feels bad… how would I know? But at the moment, she has information on the devices, she can fill in some of the gaps we don’t have. I’m done with the past coming after Red. We can fix it. We can help her get back what was taken. But you both need to know and so does she—cause so far her healing has really been painful.”

That was a quiet and sobering truth.

“Friday…” Steve glanced up. “How is Nat?”

“She is still sleeping, Captain Rogers. Her vitals are steady and no dreams seem to be bothering her. I think she has truly dropped into a deep sleep. Mr. Barton also continues to sleep, but he’s with her.”

“Thank you, Friday.”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

Straightening, Steve paced away from the sofa toward the elevator. “Tony…”

The engineer seemed braced as he glanced at Steve’s back.

“…thank you.”

Surprise flickered across Tony’s face.

“I’m going to head down to the gym for a little while. Need to clear my head. Are we doing anything with that memory machine today?”

“No,” Tony said slowly. “I think Red has the right to make those decisions.”

“Agreed.” Steve headed to the elevator, then paused. “Buck?”

“Go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute,” Bucky told him. As distracted as he was, Steve didn’t question his answer. After he was gone, however, Bucky glanced at Tony and found the other man watching him. “What do you need to do to prove that theory?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. I might have to involve Helen and I’m not willing to go there yet without Red being one hundred percent on board.”

Which meant they had to tell her the theory first. Telling her was the right thing to do. “I want you to be right…”

“Me, too.”

“I’m worried that if you are, our DNA is doing something more than just helping her.” After hearing Steve echo the same thought, Bucky couldn’t shake a sense of unease. “What if it changes her in other ways?”

“Can’t think like that,” Tony said, a certainty there that Bucky wished he shared. “Red’s remarkable and she’s survived a lot, the serum—makes good great, right?”

Bucky almost laughed. “Natalia can’t get more perfect.”

“Exactly, so I wouldn’t worry about it until we have a reason to worry.” Tony shifted again, discomfort flickering across his face.

At the moment, Bucky could only wait for Natalia to rest and be there to help look after her until they could discuss it. But he could… “You’re in pain.” Bucky rose. “You need to take something and you should probably get some rest yourself.”

“Yeah, I don’t sleep that well when I have a problem to solve and a wizard showing up was really just the start of the not so bad, but definitely weird day.”

“No,” Bucky corrected Tony this time. “Having Natalia back makes this an exceptional day. Everything else is noise.”

The other man chuckled, then spread his right hand. “Point.”

“Now, get up. Pain medication. Something to eat. Then four hours of sleep. Minimum.” Bucky told him. “Don’t argue with me. We still need you whole, Tony. We need your brain functioning no less now than we did when she was missing.”

Natalia needed it.

“You need to rest.”

“We all do,” Tony pointed out. “And Steve’s in the gym.”

“I’ll take care of Steve after you get to bed.”

With a snort, Tony said, “Planning to stick around and tuck me in?”

“Unless you want me to take you to Steve’s floor and tuck you in there.” Tony Stark was no less stubborn than Steve, but Bucky could handle intractable stubborn punks.

“Thanks,” Tony said with a faint smile, surprise flickering through the pain creasing the corners of his eyes. But when Bucky only stared at him, Tony sighed. “Fine.”

It took him all of five minutes to get some pain relievers into him, most of a protein bar, and another bottle of water and then he was heading up the stairs.

“Do I need to follow you Tony or can I trust you to try and rest?”

At the top step, Tony eyed him. “You’re almost as bossy as Red.”

Bucky smirked.

“But nowhere near as good looking. I’ll sleep. Go away. Make sure Cap doesn’t wreck the gym anymore than you two already did and then make him sleep, too.”

“I planned on it.”

Still, Bucky waited until Tony vanished into his bedroom then he eyed the tree in Tony’s living room before heading to the elevator. Once inside, he said, “You got him Friday?”

“I do, Sergeant Barnes. I’ll take care of him. The gym?”

“Yeah…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Friday, did he get any decorations for his tree?”

The AI was quiet before she said, “Some, but not very many. With Natasha’s absence…”

Yeah. Bucky got that. “Could you order some? Lights for it? Maybe a few more ornaments? He’s big on red and gold, right?”

“A set of the Avengers ornaments with a Black Widow?” came Friday’s tart reply.

Bucky wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to sigh, so he went with the former. “Definitely some of those. Maybe we can decorate it tomorrow…” Natalia would enjoy that; she’d enjoyed decorating their tree. She’d gone with him to buy his. They could all use a little distraction.

“I’ll take care of it, Sergeant Barnes.” The elevator doors opened on the training room level. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing,” he told her and then followed the sound of a ripping speed bag.


	4. Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quiet Monday at the Tower...

**Chapter Four**

**Devotion**

**Natasha**

She was in the kitchen brewing a cup of tea when James and Steve arrived on the elevator. When Friday had announced they’d returned from their run, she’d started brewing their coffee and had just pushed it through the third pour and hit the switch to get it brewing when the elevator dinged open. Tony had paced her into the kitchen, but leaned against the island bar rather than crowd her.

Clint stared at her mug a beat—she’d kept the _I am FE male_ mug and just rinsed it out before she put the water on to boil. “There they are—did you run to Queens and back?” he called as the pair crossed toward the kitchen.

She hadn’t seen them since she left the common room the day before. The bruises on their faces had dramatically decreased; there was no hindrance to their movement, and they’d both showered, damp hair and the familiar crispness of Steve’s shampoo teased her nose.

When her gaze snagged on his, she smiled a little. He was giving her a visual once over as was James. They looked good. Tired based on the shadows beneath their eyes and maybe a little worried. Steve had the smallest of frowns tightening his brows.

“Food’s over there,” Tony told them, pointing to the covered plates spread out on the table. “Most of it’s still warm. Red had bagels, croissants, bacon, and scrambled eggs—and you got the fried potatoes right?” he glanced at her.

“Of course I got the fried potatoes, you’re both lucky I saved some,” she managed to infuse some teasing into the words. But Tony detailing what she ate was a little amusing.

Steve glanced at the food then at her. “So you have an appetite? No lingering issues after yesterday?”

Making a face, she shook her head. “No, I woke up starving. Well, actually I woke up itching and needing a shower. Food was a fast secondary concern.”

With a slow nod, he smiled a little wider. “Good.”

“Coffee is ready, too.” She motioned to the pot. Clint’s gaze flicked to hers and she turned back to her tea. It wasn’t until she carried her tea out of the kitchen that Steve went in to pour a couple of cups, in the meanwhile, both he and James had gotten food.

Curling back up into the chair next to Tony’s tree, she cradled the teacup. The silence continued to stretch out, even though James was actually eating. Belatedly, the reason why Tony listed off what she ate hit her. He had let James know what was safe. Surprise curved through her, but before she could say anything Clint pushed away from the bar to cross the room before he held out his phone.

“It’s for you.” His expression brooked no arguments.

Laura’s name was clear on the screen. Not glaring at him took effort, but she plucked the phone from his hand and stood. “Hold on a sec?” she murmured into the phone, and then headed for the deck.

“Nat…” Clint said, but she ignored him and slipped out the doors. It was icy cold on her bare feet, but she padded over to one of the benches tucked flush to the building, but not against a window and sank down on it.

“Hey, Laura.”

The wind chased over her, the cold was almost welcome against her bruised neck. The bench around her—no the air—warmed gradually and she glanced up as Laura said, “Hi. How are you doing?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Above her was one of those outdoor heaters. A second sat in the pole a couple of feet away. It could also be opened to provide shade, but the heat rolling off it mitigated the bitterness in the breeze.

“Nat…” Laura’s tone nudged at her and she closed her eyes as she pulled her legs up to sit cross-legged. At least with the heat, she wouldn’t be chased back inside by the cold and it might keep the guys from chasing her out here. “It’s me. You can tell me or not. But I’m here… the kids and I will be there in a few days. They get out for Christmas break after Thursday. Clint is flying out to pick us up.”

Christmas really was right around the corner. “I need to get some shopping done,” Natasha told her. “I’m really behind.”

Though she had ordered a couple of small things before—just before. She refused to give that man purchase in her thoughts. At least not right now. No, she’d had ideas and she and Clint had been plotting, but…no she’d gotten too busy with the Accords.

“Oh, me too.” Laura almost sounded like she laughed. “But that’s half the fun, we can go shopping when I get there if you want. We haven’t done that in a while…”

“No.” The answer slipped out fast and abrupt. Closing her eyes, Natasha forced a long, deep breath, then another. Her ribs ached, but the breathing itself wasn’t an issue.

“Nat…” Everything about her voice softened. “Talk to me.”

“You’re not going to be seen in public with me. People are taking my picture now and posting it,” she said slowly, forcing every ounce of calmness she possessed into her voice. “I haven’t seen the last… ten days or so, but before…” She needed to find her phone. “Laura, just no. We can compare notes and split up. Then maybe get back together to do some wrapping. But I can’t put you at that kind of risk.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. The soft sound of a television in the background, Nate laughing at something and then Lila and Cooper arguing on the stairs. The phone muffled, but she caught Laura saying, “Kids, enough. Let’s go, your ride will be here in five minutes and you need your coats on. Let’s go, let’s go.”

Even with her covering the phone there was thumping on the stairs and plaintive complaints of not wanting to go to school, but it was almost perfunctory because moments later there was the thump of the front door then the squeak of the storm door.

Clint still hadn’t fixed that?

Maybe she and Clint could sneak out there once everyone was here and do some repairs. Then again, a squeaky door was an excellent early alert. Hard to sneak past noise obstacles.

As much as she wanted to glance back inside, she didn’t, she kept her gaze forward. There was a knot in her gut and it was turning tighter and tighter. Unacceptable on every level. She needed to get this together.

“Okay, they’re off. Nate is watching his favorite show, yes he is—and I’m pouring my coffee,” Laura returned with the most relaxed note in her voice. “I get it, I know you want to protect me and you’re worried about your reputation.”

“Not my reputation, Laura,” Natasha told her, though she worried about that, too. “Exposure. We kept you out of everything for a reason, you get photographed with me, people do any kind of digging…” People like The Mandarin or like Ross… “Just no. I won’t risk you.”

“You do realize I’m an adult and get to make this choice for myself,” Laura reminded her.

“You do realize that in addition to being my friend, you’re the mother of three of my favorite children in the whole world and I’d kill people for you?” Her heart twisted. Laura was a mom. Her kids needed her. No way would Natasha deprive them the way she’d had to take herself away from her own.

A long sigh. “Fine, I know you’re not even joking.”

“Not even a little bit.” This was hard. It was hard to talk to her. It had been hard to talk to James and Steve in there—which made no sense. She’d talked to them fine before, so why was it hard this morning? It had taken her a moment, but she managed to squeeze in some normalcy for Tony and Friday.

Logically, speed bumps made sense. Trauma affected psychological reactions. All normal. Natasha wasn't normal and this part could go to Hell.

“Okay, we won’t go shopping together,” Laura said, her voice soothing and patient. “I’m not going to ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. But I do want you to talk to me for a few minutes, can you do that?”

“I don’t want to talk about…” So many things.

“Natasha. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. We can talk about Christmas. What do you want to give the guys?”

The last ten days back so none of them had to struggle through it. Not really an option. For James—she’d like to give him Mary back. For Steve—his peace of mind. For Tony—his life back. For Clint? She’d like to give him a good swift kick in the head so he’d go back to Laura where he belonged.

_They were trying something new… he told her._

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I had some ideas before…I was thinking season tickets to the Mets, but… I don’t know. It’s… complicated.”

“C’mon,” Laura said with an almost relaxed chuckle as if they had this discussion all the time. “It doesn’t have to be extravagant. What do they like? I mean, besides you. What do you want to get Clint?”

Tipping the tea back and draining the cup, Nat leaned back against the wall. The heaters blowing on her created this perfect little pocket in the wintry landscape of the deck. She set the empty mug down in the cradle of her lap and stared at the _I am FE male _on the side.

“Tools. The hand ones,” Natasha said slowly. “Wood working, hand sanders and planes, scrapers—to do all those things he kept talking about.”

“Making furniture,” Laura mused aloud. “He used to say that, didn’t he? After he got the house just right, he wanted to build furniture…”

“He would talk about it on missions sometimes, like he said he wanted to knock out that wall in the formal dining room and turn it into an office for you, because you guys always eat in the kitchen anyway.”

A chuckle. “We do.”

“But he likes working with his hands and he hates the power tools.”

“Lazy man gear,” Laura muttered. “He does have his opinions.”

“So maybe some of those… then he could work on building stuff.” She bit down on her lip, and then winced. It was still sore in the corner. The bruising had faded and the cuts had closed, but it was still tender.

“I think he’d love that,” Laura told her. “He still has tools here, some of them are the old-fashioned hand kind, would you like me to get you a list of what he has so you can fill in the blanks?”

“Actually,” Nat said on a long exhale as one of the knots began to loosen. “That would be great.”

“Okay, so that’s Clint. What are we doing for Tony?”

She frowned. “That’s a tougher question.”

“I suppose, finding something to give a billionaire would take some finagling. What doesn’t he have?”

Resting her head back, she stared upward as snow began to drift down. It seemed almost alien. “Peace.”

The answering laugh wasn’t derogatory, but Laura’s voice took on a teasing note when she said, “I don’t know that we can afford that.”

It wasn’t something she could buy, but it did give her an idea.

“Should I ask you an easier question?”

“No, this is fine.” It was normal. She _craved_ some semblance of normal. “Christmas shopping is normal, right?” For decades, it was a holiday she paid little to no attention to. It wasn’t celebrated when she was a child. She hadn’t heard of it outside of western films and then only because she might need it for a cover. Even after leaving the KGB, when arguably she had been free for years…

_When the hell is Logan going to call? _Maybe he had and she’d been asleep. _No, James would have told me as soon as he came up._

“It’s very normal. Wanda.”

Why did she avoid Steve and James? “A new leather jacket. She _inherited_ one of mine from a few years ago, I want to find her a similar one but new so it’s all hers.”

“Nice. Peter?”

Natasha’s heart fisted in her chest and her breathing threaded out and she had to concentrate on it. “Old tech.”

“What?” The confusion pulled a real smile to her lips.

“He repurposes all kinds of things, takes them apart and puts them back together. He’s brilliant, only I don’t know if he knows it. I want to go strip through some old pawn shops and get him all kinds of old radios, VCRs, televisions, Walkmans, CD players, all the old stuff.” Old stuff. She’d been around before so much of it, but it was the litter of history.

“Huh… there’s a place here. It’s an junk dealer, he has some vintage items. I can take a look if you want.”

Another smile. “I’d like that.”

They pressed on to the other Avengers, Vision was a difficult one for Laura, but Natasha said they needed to get him a collection of plays and theater tickets.

“Theater tickets?”

“The play is the thing according to Shakespeare. There is so much humanity done in stage plays and we’re here in New York, I think he’d enjoy it. Something to sample and experience that he can’t just download.”

“Oh, true. Can I go in on that with you?”

The door opened in the middle of her smile and James came out with a steaming mug and a large blanket. Her smile didn’t diminish, the earlier strain was gone and she said, “Hang on a sec, Laura,” she pressed the mute button as James draped the blanket over her and around her. It was warmed.

Then he traded her _I am FE male_ for the new mug that just had a big Avengers A on the side of it. He glanced at the mug he took then grunted.

“Thank you, James.”

His eyes softened. “Feeling better?”

Of course, he’d known. “Not really good at hiding it right now, am I?”

“You don’t have to be.” He nodded to her tea. “Drink your tea and talk to Laura. We’re inside when you’re ready.” Then he glanced at the heater above and the one in front of her. Another had arrived a few minutes earlier, well two of them really, members of the Iron Legion and they were warming the air enough for it to create the illusion of the air rippling as the warm air rose.

“James…”

“Natalia,” he said, his voice warming. “You need time.”

“I don’t _want_ to need time.”

He chuckled. “I wish you didn’t need it, either.”

“Stay? Sit with me? We’re almost done.”

Now that he was out here, she didn’t want him to go. He stared at her for a beat, and then glanced at the bench. “Do you want me to sit next to you or is that going to be too close?”

Another knot loosened and she shifted a little balancing the tea and her phone. “I’ll even share the blanket.”

“I’m fine, Doll. Talk to Laura.” He pulled his cigarettes out as she unmuted the call and put it back to her ear.

“I’m back.”

“Everything all right?” The concern had overtaken the lightness in her voice.

“Yeah, it’s a little better at the moment. James brought me tea and a blanket. He’s sitting with me.”

“Well, so much for discussing his Christmas present.”

Natasha caught the hint of a smile curving his lips. “So, no sweater, then?”

Laura snorted. “Nope, not getting me with that one. I am not getting anyone once called the Winter Soldier a sweater.”

James’ smile grew.

“Fine, but you could have played along a little.”

“Nat…” Laura sobered. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know. I still wish Clint hadn’t told you.” Some of the lightness gained by the talk of holiday shopping evaporated.

“We’re trying something new,” she said it without apology and for that, Natasha was glad. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“I survived,” she said before taking a swallow of the tea. It was a rich cinnamon spiced chai. Tears burned for a second as she took a second sip, then glanced at James. Cinnamon, because bad dreams lingered but so did spices only spices usually didn’t linger in dreams.

“Nat—it’s about more than surviving.”

“It will be,” she told her. “Right now, I survived. I’m healing. I get to keep my promises about being here for Christmas—it’s my first Christmas with James and Steve together.”

He exhaled a long stream of smoke.

“Okay. Think you’ll be up for some wine and girl time when I get there?”

“I’ll try, no promises.” She had to see the kids. Hugs. Cuddles. The kids would be fine around her, but she had to get over the itchiness inside her own skin. “Besides, you had your three questions. You have to answer three questions for me next time.”

A snort. “It’s been months since I had anything good to share. All Clint and I have done is a couple of kisses…”

Natasha grinned. “Well you should hop on that so you can answer my questions. Fair is fair.”

James actually snorted a little.

“And on _that_ note, I’m going to go. You take care of yourself, you hear me?” Before she could respond. “You promised me you’d look after her Bucky, so you better be hearing me too.”

“Loud and clear, ma’am,” he drawled. “Natalia has all of my attention.”

“See you this weekend, Nat.”

“See you then.”

Then the call was over and she stared at the phone in her hand for a moment before she set it down and cradled her tea in both hands. The quiet stretched out, then James held out a cigarette to her and she brushed his fingers as she took it. The contact was light, but his metal fingers were cool and familiar. He lit it for her and she leaned back against the wall, sipping her tea and staring out at the snow that had continued to fall. The flakes had grown fatter and occasionally drifting into the heat curtain around her and melting.

“How was your run?”

“Long,” James said slowly. “We pushed it.”

She curled her toes under the blanket. “How are you doing?”

“I’m all right, Doll,” James murmured, then glanced at her. “What do you need, Natalia?”

“To not feel like this,” she admitted. “Has Logan called your phone?”

“I would have told you if he had.” James shifted and pulled his phone out then passed it to her.

After the hell Logan had suffered get her out, he was probably sleeping it off or drinking it off. “I need to find my phone.”

“We can get you another one.”

Hers would be a brick without her, though someone might possibly crack it. She nodded and her exhale came out a little steadier. “Sorry, I kind of bolted out of there.”

“I think Clint wanted to give you a reason to escape,” James said idly. He probably had. It was a Clint thing to do. All at once, she’d been claustrophobic, trapped, chained…

Her gaze dipped to her legs, hidden beneath the blanket, but the bruise around her ankle—it was almost a brand. Held. Forced. Unable to escape. It hadn’t mattered how many she…

“Natalia,” James’ voice pulled at her and she dragged her attention up to look at him.

The second apology on her lips died unspoken as she focused on his eyes. James didn’t need her to say she was sorry. He knew. He understood. “It feels like he chipped something away, but so many pieces are broken. What if I can’t figure out which ones he took?”

“If he managed to take any at all. You will figure it out,” he whispered, confidence in each syllable. “You are the strongest person I know.”

“Feeling a little pathetic at the moment,” she admitted. “Really _hate_ feeling helpless.”

“You were never helpless, lyubov moya. He could not break you. He wanted to prove he was stronger and all he could prove was that he was cruel.” James snuffed out his cigarette. “Do you want to tell me what happened? All of it?”

She shook her head slowly. “You will just be hurt.”

“I can share your pain, Natalia. We’ve always shared our pain.”

Another knot loosened. “Not yet.”

A slow nod. “Do you want to be distracted?”

Sometimes it was easy to forget how well he knew her. Or how well he’d known her…

She blinked slowly. “I loved you so much,” she whispered, her gaze going distant. “When I climbed those mountains, when I carried Mary away. It shredded me with every step. All I wanted was for you to show up one morning with the dawn, all matter-of-fact, as if we’d planned it.”

A wordless stroke of his finger across the back of her hand. The cigarette had gone to ash. He took the butt away and put the rest of it out.

“I feel like two people, James. I haven’t felt this disconnected in a long time. There’s the me now who loves all of you.” There was a strain in even saying the words.

“Natasha,” he said and it was almost wrong to hear that name on his lips, but her gaze flicked up to his and she nodded at the understanding in his eyes. “The woman you have chosen to be.”

“But I’m still her…”

“My Natalia,” he said, and she could read the need to touch her in his eyes but he didn’t. He withheld it because she needed the distance and she hated herself in the same breath for not being able to just crawl into his lap and hold on with the same desperation that invaded them every time they connected. Desperation she suddenly understood on such a visceral level.

“She’s…”

“Fierce. Indomitable. Possessive. Intelligent. Dangerous.” He raised his eyebrows, his tone as possessive as the descriptors he used. “Stunning. The most amazing woman I have ever known—and she still is.”

Licking her lips, she laughed a little. “When you put it like that…”

“Natalia,” he said slowly, gaze trapping her—no, not trapping, grounding and holding her steady. “I fell in love with Vdova.” Her Soldat. “I adored and worshipped Natalia. Loving her more deeply than I thought possible.” He opened his left hand, palm up and she slid her right hand over his and sighed when he closed his fingers loosely over her hand. “I still call you Natalia, you will always be my Natalia, but I love the woman you’ve become, lyubov moya. The woman you choose to be.”

The jumbled pieces didn’t feel so jagged. “I’m really glad I wasn’t able to kill you.”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as humor flirted around his lips. “Da. I am glad I didn’t kill you.”

Tightening her grip on his hand, she leaned her head against his shoulder. Giving herself a break from the raw emotion in his eyes that likely echoed in her own. “I don’t know how long this is going to take me,” she admitted, easier to say when she wasn’t looking at him. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have with anyone, but James… James she could tell.

“It takes as long as it takes, Natalia,” he said easily. “There is no clock you have to meet, no time constraints.”

Yet, there were.

“But you will not listen to that because you are you,” he murmured, a hint of impatient indulgence in his voice. “Since you do not wish to discuss the rest right now, I am going to ask you again. Do you want a distraction?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Tony was helping with that earlier.”

“Good,” James told her. “Tony is going to help you again.”

Curiosity and surprise collided within her. Lifting her head, she blinked at him.

“Well maybe better—we’re going to help Tony.” That was even more intriguing.

“What happened?” Had she missed some other threat? Granted, she’d only been _back_ a little over twenty-four hours, at least aware enough to be back. It seemed so innocuous a description. Back—like she’d been on vacation.

So. Not. A. Vacation.

That was what she could get Steve and James. Another vacation.

Pocketing that thought, she studied James’ micro expressions. He wore calm like it was his body armor; there was a core of gentleness to his every move but there were elements of concern lingering in the crevices, peeking out at her. A real need to offer balance. It matched the one in her needing to find that balance.

“He bought a tree,” James told her, his tone dropping to an almost confidential note. “And it’s still stark naked.”

There was a downbeat.

Then she withdrew a few inches to stare at him and a giggle chased a groan as she clapped a hand against her mouth. He did not just…

Eyebrows up, James stared at her with almost picture perfect innocence save for the devilment in his eyes.

“Just won’t do,” he said, the Brooklyn drawl looping around her like an embrace. She adored when his past crept into his voice, when Bucky slipped out through the damaged corridors to tease and charm. “Can’t have a _stark_ naked tree.”

Head back, she groaned again but couldn’t suppress the giggles. “You’re right,” she said, fighting for a fraction of sobriety as she met his teasing gaze. “You want to decorate his tree…”

“I was thinking you might want to. You helped him pick it out and the guy seems hopeless without you around. We could all use a distraction.”

They still… “We still need to finish the debrief.”

Stroking his thumb lightly over the back of her hand, he gave a careless shrug. “You’re the boss…well, okay Boss is Tony and team lead is Steve, but you’re second in command, and I’m pretty sure you said the team lead was a pushover for you. I know the boss is.”

She had, indeed, said that. “You know—I’m not really an expert on tree decorating.”

“Luckily, you don’t have to be one. You just have to want to do it…” He slanted a look toward one of the Legion. “Have the decorations arrived, Friday?”

“They will be here within the hour, Sergeant,” Friday said gently.

“Plenty of time,” James said. “Time to take care of things, then we can decorate tonight. We’ll get Peter to come over. You like having him here, yeah?”

“Are you handling me, Soldat?” When she raised her eyebrows his smile grew.

“I would never dream of it, Vdova,” he retaliated, though humor punched up his tone.

“Yes you would,” she said with a snort. “Okay—let’s go get the debrief done and…”

“And you get more rest, then…” he lifted the hand he still held and pressed a kiss to her palm. “We have a lot to figure out, all of us, but you getting better is top of that list.”

“If Mr. Wizard comes back before then?” Though she hadn’t really let herself think about it, she couldn’t escape the fact Doctor Strange had already spent twenty-four hours on her problem—give or take. He said he needed a day or two, so they were in the window.

“One step at a time,” James chided her. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then rose and held out his hand for the other cup. “More tea?”

“I need to pee,” she admitted and the corner of his mouth kicked a little higher.

“So after that, would you like more tea?”

She slid his phone back into his pocket for him, her hand lingering for a moment. At his raised eyebrow, she gave his thigh a squeeze. “Maybe.”

“Aversion therapy?” The gentleness in the question sent a shiver of embarrassment through her. That was never what touching James should be about.

“No,” she said injecting some lightness. “I missed your ass.”

He snorted. “Natalia.”

“No, I mean it. I need—a lot of things and I know touching you and being touched isn’t a bad thing. But my…”

“Your system was overloaded, Natalia, you are allowed to feel these things. You are also allowed to touch me wherever and whenever you like.” He winked.

Rising, she gathered the blanket. The deck beneath her feet had warmed to the point she wasn’t even chilled. Clint’s phone in hand, she glanced at the falling snow and tipped her head back. “I don’t want him to win.”

She didn’t have to say who.

“He didn’t,” James told her firmly. “He won’t. Ever.”

Closing her eyes, she ignored the frisson of unease as she allowed herself to be vulnerable. James wasn’t going to hurt her. Her conscious and subconscious might be struggling with that, but the rest of her knew this as a fact. No matter their history. James had never been the architect behind inflicting pain on her.

Eyes open, she squared her shoulders and then met the steadiness in his gaze. “Thank you, Friday. The heat was very much appreciated.”

“My pleasure, Natasha. Boss has put the kettle on to heat and he is debating what to order for lunch. Do you have a preference?”

Was it lunchtime already? “We just had breakfast.”

“Approximately 2.5 hours ago, Natasha. Lunch will be in another 90 minutes to two hours. You should be taking in approximately a hundred calories per hour in addition to hydration and rest to feed your serum’s effects on healing.”

The corners of her mouth twisted. “I should, huh?”

“Yes.” No additional data, merely simple acceptance.

“How many calories have I managed so far?”

“Enough that you can eat lunch in 90 minutes to two hours.” Tart. Pointed.

James chuckled.

“I want…calzones,” she said after a moment’s musing as she headed for the doors, James keep pace with her. “Sausage, mushrooms, ricotta, and spinach. Oh…” her stomach almost growled as she considered it. “Pepperoni and onions, too.”

With a small smile, James opened the door for her. Clint gave her a once over as she walked in. Tony and Steve were staring at a map on the holo screen. She tracked the images, it was…

…ice slithered through her and she hugged the blanket a little tighter before she dropped Clint’s phone into his hands. With a flick of her fingers against his nose, she said, “Don’t ambush me like that again. It’s not fair to Laura.”

He just eyed her. “Laura wanted to talk to you and you needed to talk to her.” They glared at each other for a moment. But she wasn’t ready to admit he was right, so she just flicked his nose again.

“Just for that, I’m not telling you what you’re getting for Christmas.”

His eyes narrowed a fraction. Ha. Clint was worse than his kids. “Wait, she _told_ you she was getting me something?”

“Did I say that?” All innocent and wide-eyed, she gave a careless shrug. The little growl of frustration pleased her enormously. “Tony, I’m going to borrow your bathroom.”

“Okay,” he said as if distracted. “Be sure to put it back.”

She snorted and left the blanket on the back of the sofa before heading for the steps. There was another down on the main floor, tucked into the corner, but it was at the end of a hallway with no exit. After emptying her bladder, she checked her appearance in the mirror as she washed her hands. Her damp hair had dried while outside, the heat had probably helped. The curls pulled it higher so it barely brushed her shoulders. None of them said anything, but she almost hated looking at it.

Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and put her hands on the counter. The bathroom smelled like Tony’s soap. The air wasn’t humid, but the traces of it lingered from his earlier shower. It was another reminder that she was back.

“Natasha,” Friday said softly.

“Just need another minute,” she told her. “The strangest things trigger it. A scent. A haircut.” She met her own gaze in the mirror. “Even just talking.”

Hours spent alone. Then hours spent under his painful ministrations. The sound of his voice like some ugly scar on her psyche.

“Take your time. Boss won’t mind. If you need to lie down, I can secure the bedroom for you.”

That almost made her laugh, but then she straightened. “Actually… there’s something I’ve been meaning to do.”

“Do you require assistance?”

“Maybe.” Natasha flipped off the light but slipped into Tony’s closet rather than head downstairs. Hands on her hips, she eyed the clothing. Then began gathering all the dress shirts and shifting them to the very back.

“What are we doing, Natasha?” Friday asked in a hushed voice.

“Tony likes to rearrange my closet…” And had been doing so for quite some time. “I’m just repaying the favor.” She sorted through his t-shirts, the Black Widow League shirts made her snort and she carefully buried those in the back, too. Then she took band shirts he’d clearly never worn and began pairing them with his suits. It took her a few minutes.

“Boss is getting anxious,” Friday warned. “I told them you needed a few more moments, but that you were fine.”

“Thanks girlfriend,” Natasha said with a glance upward. The more she pulled out—like pairing his Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band with his black Tom Ford or _The Wiz_, not that she was asking about the musical shirts, with the blue suit, the better she felt.

As she continued to sort through the shirts though, she had to pause.

_Captain America Wants You _declared one shirt with a saluting Steve on the front. The corners of her mouth curled and she moved that one to the front of the closet. Then after another sweep, she snatched his favorite AC/DC shirt, pulling it on and then covering it up with her pie chart shirt before pulling the hoodie back on. It was a little bulky, but she’d been chilly.

Satisfied and feeling remarkably better, she sauntered out of the closet and descended the stairs. James studied her a beat from where he leaned against the sofa. A cup of tea steamed on the table waiting for her.

She smiled at him and he gave her a once over before nodding. Steve and Tony were still at the table with Clint who’d apparently joined them. All three glanced at her, though not at the same time. Each of them tracking her movements as if they, like James, just needed to make sure she was okay. That tension made her feel even better about rearranging Tony’s closet. At the foot of the stairs, she fixed on the holo screen.

“That’s the fortress I was in, isn’t it?”

A single nod. “Need us to shut it down, Angel?”

“No, it’s fine… “ It wasn’t like the worst things she remembered was the alien landscape or the external stone walls.

The cold clamp of the shackle on her ankle and a flash of smooth stone walls around her as the grate snapped shut flashed through her, but she shoved it aside. Compartmentalizing. She had to put each piece away, until it couldn’t bother her anymore. The sense of satisfaction she’d claimed upstairs, she grasped in both hands and kept it close.

“Calzones?” Tony asked as he picked up a StarkPad. His tone had a forced kind of lightness to it. Like her, he was putting on a good front. Steve seemed to be doing better, but his concern echoed in his eyes.

“Hmm-hmm,” she said, curling her hands into fists into her lap and then forcing them to relax as she settled on the sofa. Her gaze went up to James’ as he settled the blanket over her then she glanced at Steve. “They’re basically pizza sandwiches.” She carefully held Steve’s gaze the entire time, which meant she didn’t miss the crinkle of his eyes or how some of the tension bled from his brow or the way his mouth softened just before he smiled. James’ groan rumbled above her.

Better. Another little piece she could put back where it belonged.

“I’m going to PT,” Clint announced, his gaze firm on her. “You good?”

“Nope,” she said without missing a beat. “Not even on my best days.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed out of the chair. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” The tease pulled another reluctant smile to his lips, but the watchfulness in his eyes scolded her. Yes, he knew exactly what she was doing.

“You’ll have to wait and see won’t you?”

Relief flooded her at the teasing remark; he’d agreed to play. Pausing next to her, he raised his eyebrows in question and she held out her hand. He gave it a light squeeze then dropped a kiss on her head.

“Behave,” he murmured, his voice low and pitched to not carry.

“No promises,” she answered with a small smile and he rewarded her with a real grin.

“Never a doubt in my mind.” Then he locked gazes with her. “You need me, you tell Friday, I’ll come. Got it?”

“I’ll be fine,” she retorted, then flicked his nose. “Go get better. I need a rematch at the range.”

A soft snort, then another squeeze and he was gone. “Behave,” he repeated, this time sweeping his gaze over the rest before he stepped into the elevator.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Tony asked, but Clint just flipped him off and Natasha watched the doors close, pressing her thumb against her lower lip as she worried at the jagged nail tip.

“Why are we staring at the castle and the terrain around it?” she asked after several minutes of watching Steve and Tony flit through the various satellite images.

“Because I’m pretty sure those rings of his were some kind of alien tech, which tells me he had to find them somewhere and considering how warped the land was, I’m thinking something alien crashed there.”

She nudged the blanket away and stood, leaving her teacup to pace over to where they stood and stared at the images.

“I don’t suppose…” Tony said with a grimace.

“No,” she told him. “He didn’t do more than demonstrate what those rings could do.”

An image of the symbols on them flashed across her mind. The icy fingers of dread sending a trickle of sweat down her spine.

“What happened to them?” In all honesty, she didn’t want to know. Yet, at the same time…

“Went down with him,” Steve told her, bracing his hands on the table. “Wasn’t quite expecting to near vaporize the guy.”

“I wanted him dead,” Tony said without an ounce of apology. “Dead dead. Not, oh, I’ll get up in a minute or inject me with something dead. I wanted a carcass, roasted to near ash, dead.”

Natasha huffed out a half-laugh. “D-e-d dead?”

Tony grinned at her. “Very much so.”

Folding her arms to ward off the chill, she nodded. “You’re relying on satellite scans to find it?”

“Trying,” Steve said. “Friday’s scanned the whole region, but there’s a lot of interference.”

“If there was something visible by satellite, the Chinese would have found it by now. They have an extensive system, impeccable intelligence and they are _always_ watching.” She’d dealt with several of their operatives over the year. They played the long game. As much as she didn’t want to ask, she said, “Did any of his monks survive?”

“As far as we could tell,” Steve answered. “No. Vision did a full sweep…” He hesitated a beat. “He did a full sweep of the facility and cleaned out any electronic caches.”

In other words all the video of her torture, but there could have been other details. “Did he erase it or review it first?”

“He reviewed it,” Tony told her and there was a guarded silence between the three.

Great. So Vision had seen all of it.

“But he only did it in order to lift any pertinent data,” Steve told her firmly. James had moved to join them but she still had distance from all of them. “And he gave his word that the only one he would share your data with is _you_.”

Mild surprise filtered through her and she flicked a look to Tony.

“We saw what he sent us,” Tony admitted. “I didn’t think you wanted us seeing even that much. Even if you tried to embed messages.”

She slid her attention back to the footage. “Well, you picking the lady might have happened. You like women more than cats. Better to warn you.”

It was light and flip, but didn’t land with anything more than a thud.

The silence stretched again, and Natasha squared her shoulders. “Brief me now?”

She had briefed them. But it had been _ten days_…

“Wait for the food?” Steve asked and he had this way of looking both firm yet coaxing in the same breath. Despite the fact she’d rather just rip the Band-Aid off, she nodded.

Tony grabbed the image and closed it. “Good. Break time. It’s been over two weeks and we’re due Red, overdue.”

At Steve’s raised eyebrows, Natasha frowned then stared at Tony. “Overdue?”

“Ha! How soon you forget.” He pointed her to the sofa. “Sit. I’m grabbing fresh coffee. Guys get your own drinks, and everyone sits. Friday—you know the drill.”

For a split second, she just stood there as Tony headed for the kitchen and Steve shot her a questioning look. Overdue…

“Oh.” The moment she remembered, discomfort threaded through her that felt too keenly close to a fresh wave of embarrassment and shame. She’d forgotten. How could she have… it was just…

“Natalia?” James was just there, close enough to touch, but keeping his distance.

“I’m fine... I just feel like an idiot.” She gave him a smile and hoped it was nowhere near as weak as it felt.

“It’s tradition,” Tony called. “We don’t get to do it that often and normally it’s in the middle of the night, but we have some time until food gets here and we could all use a break.”

They were all drifting toward the living room, Steve retrieved water for himself and for her, while James skipped all of it and just dropped into the chair nearest the sofa when she curled back up into her corner and pulled the blanket over her. Steve glanced at her and then the other chair, but Tony dropped into it before he could shift and Natasha patted the sofa with her foot.

“I won’t bite.”

“Not even if I ask?” The flip remark rolled out into the quiet and earned a gawking look from Tony and an amused smirk from James.

A spark of delight shivered through her and she tipped her head. “Maybe if you ask.” It wasn’t the first time he played. Steve had a delightful sense of humor, he was more than capable of sexual innuendo and teasing. Normally, he reserved it for when they were alone or with James.

“Good to know,” he told her and settled down to sit next to her slowly, telegraphing every movement before he stretched his legs out to rest his feet on the table. “So what are we doing, exactly?”

She opened her mouth, but Tony said, “Ahh! Nope. Zip it, Red.”

Raising her eyebrows, she pinned him with a look.

“Please,” he tacked on abruptly. “I’d like to do the honors.”

Folding her arms, she shifted and nudged her toes under Steve’s leg. He split a look at her, one corner of his mouth curving up, before he focused on Tony again. He wasn’t alone, James watched him with narrowed eyes.

“All right then, you two are about to join a very exclusive club and the rules are exceptionally clear. We do not discuss what we do in front of others, we only discuss it when we’re alone, preferably here in the penthouse where no one else can hear us…”

Natasha rolled her eyes. He was making such a production out of it. At the same time, amusement curled in her belly.

Steve frowned, the weight of his gaze swinging to her, but she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing aloud as Tony leaned forward, his attention swiveling from James to Steve.

“Red and I have been doing this for years. So you’re kind of joining us in the middle, which I don’t mind, but I’d rather not have to start everything over from scratch. I think you can both keep up, but if you need us to pause and start over, just let me know.”

A finger pressed to her lips, she shook her head as Tony’s gaze, practically dancing with amusement, locked on hers. He knew _exactly_ how he sounded. When he winked, James huffed out a breath.

“Hit it, Friday.”

The windows darkened, the lights lowered, and the screen flipped on to the opening bars of _Murder, She Wrote._

The faintly baffled look on Steve’s face did her in and she started giggling. Tony’s grin grew. James, by contrast, frowned but said nothing until about a third of the way through and Nat was having way more fun watching Steve and James watch it than she did with the episode, even if the familiarity of it and the ritual relaxed her.

“Natalia,” James murmured. “She reminds me of…”

“…I know. But don’t bring that up. Tony doesn’t like that.”

The man in question scowled, but he didn’t pause it. By the time the food arrived, they were on their second episode. Natasha devoured her calzone—both of them since Tony got her two—and sipped on a soda because she was a little tired of tea. The food was heavy in her stomach, but the protests were few. After the fourth episode, James had half-dozed off and Steve studied Jessica Fletcher with a kind of wariness.

“Why do people invite her if there is always a murder when she shows up?”

“My point,” Tony said pouncing on that and James flicked his eyes open to look at the television then at her.

“You two have watched this for years?”

“Hmm-hmm,” she told him, wrinkling her nose. “It’s…”

“…nice,” James said, slumping back in the seat, feet up on the table almost mirroring Steve’s pose.

It was kind of nice. Tony glanced at all three of them before settling his attention on her, his smile utterly unrepentant. _Thank you_, she mouthed and he winked before going back to the show.

More normalcy.

Real normalcy.

She didn’t find out what happened at the end of the fifth one, she dozed off with her feet in Steve’s lap and her cheek tucked against the sofa.

The crash of something metal hitting the floor and bouncing jerked her eyes open and she sat up on the sofa.

“Sorry,” Peter said, his whole body frozen as she pinned him with a gaze. He glanced down at the box of spare parts he’d been carrying. Three steps behind him, Steve sighed and shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Really sorry, Natasha.”

Running a hand over her face, she wiped away the hint of drool from the corner of her mouth and pulled her legs toward herself. She’d been spread out on the sofa, tucked under a blanket. The windows were still half-darkened, though the lights of the city were visible beyond.

“It’s okay, Pal,” James said from behind her. Running a hand through her hair, she shifted more to sitting up and then glanced around the room. They were still in the penthouse. Steve had a box in his hands, too. “Just give her a minute.”

Waking up prepared and ready to go was fundamental to survival, so the fact she was having a minute worried her on a couple of levels. Then again, she was safe. She could afford to be slow to wake.

“Aww, crap.” Tony’s voice came from the stairs and she glanced up to see him carrying a box. “Sorry, Red. I was going to have Pete take this stuff downstairs to the one of the other labs so we could work until you woke up.”

“Okay,” she managed to get her tongue unstuck from the roof of her mouth. It was like having a hangover without any of the fun. Thirsty. Even before she could form the question, Steve held out a bottle of water he already opened and she accepted with a murmured, “Thank you,” even if though it came out almost as much of a croak as the okay.

“You snore, Red,” Tony said as he trailed past her. “I mean when you’re seriously out, you were snoring. You feeling okay? No fever? No cold? No anything that we need to be concerned about?”

After draining the water bottle, she held her hand out for the lid. Steve dropped it into her palm, and then she sealed the bottle. After, she twisted and winged it across the room where it bounced off the side of Tony’s head.

“Ouch,” he said, his tone as dry as the desert. “I am wounded.”

When she reached for the StarkPad on the table next to her, James snagged it away. “Tony… she has very accurate aim.”

“I know,” Tony said almost too cheerfully. “I’m rather fond of her aim.” He had the water bottle in his hand. “Mine now.”

She rolled her eyes then scrubbed her hands over her face. “I need to wash my face or take a shower.” Or something. Too many cobwebs.

“Go on up,” Tony said, waving to the stairs. “Pete, let’s take this down to the lab and then we’ll head back up. Let Friday know what you want to eat, Red. C’mon, Cap.”

They trotted out and she glanced at James. “How long?”

“A couple of hours,” he told her. “You drifted right off and we didn’t want to risk waking you to move you.”

“That’s fine,” she said, licking her lips. “I hate waking up groggy.”

“Still healing,” he reminded her. “Want more water?”

No, she still wanted the shower. Pushing up from the sofa, she admitted, “I want a peppermint mocha.”

His eyebrows climbed. “That’s one of the fancy coffees from the expensive shops?”

More or less, so she nodded. “Did Clint come back?” Wait, they’d watched several episodes.

“No, Doll. He finished PT and was hurting. He texted and we told him you were zoned watching the show.”

She must have been really zoned to miss that. “Hurting…”

“He’s fine, Natalia. He actually went to lie down and get some more sleep. We all need it, him included. He’ll be up for dinner.” The steadiness in his eyes slowed her down. “Now, do you want to use Tony’s shower or go to our floor?”

Our.

They usually called it Steve’s but it had kind of become theirs. “I just really want to wake up and the coffee…” Her gaze landed on the tree. “Oh, we need to do the tree.”

“The decorations are here, I can go get them in a minute. I filled Stevie in, so he knows what we’re doing. If you’re not up for it, we can put it off another night.” Even as he made the offer she shook her head.

“No I want to,” she admitted. “Ever since you said that about the tree.” She glanced at it. “It does look sad and he got it a couple of days before the party.” The same night he triggered her. The day before the bombs. A lot had happened.

“Okay, Doll. You want to shower here or go down?”

“I’m going to use his and you’re going to get me coffee?” A hopeful note swelled inside of her and James’ expression gentled.

“Yes, I’ll go get your coffee.” He rose with an affectionate smile in place and she lifted her hand toward his cheek and he ducked his head almost obediently.

There was a roughness to his stubble. He hadn’t really shaved today. Or maybe he hadn’t shaved in a few days, it wasn’t quite a beard. “You need a shave.”

“Maybe when you’re in the mood?” It was his turn to sound hopeful and her heart did a little squeeze. The roughness scraped against her palm. “Still want to take you on that date.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. When you’re ready.”

“Do I get to know where we’re going?” She traced her thumb against his jaw.

“Depends,” he said, a hint of a sly smile curving his lips. “Do you want to be surprised or not?”

She’d never gone on a date with her Soldier. Never gone on a date as herself before Steve. “I trust you,” she said, studying his pale eyes. “Wherever you want to go. Just—tell me what to wear.”

His smile lit him up and she slid her hand down to his chest, bracing herself as she rose up on her toes. The first brush of her lips against his made her tingle, then the second, and a third. When she parted her lips, he slid his hand up to cup her jaw ever so carefully. It was a slow, even kiss, little nips and tiny grazes of his teeth, then a longer sweep of his tongue and she sighed into that much-missed mouth before drawing back. Her heart thumped a little faster and heat wound through her system.

“Go shower,” he murmured, his forehead resting against hers for a beat then he straightened and when his hand would have fallen from her face, she clasped his hand there. “Coffee, then dinner, and decorating the tree.”

It sounded like a really nice night, especially since they’d managed to utterly avoid debriefing her on what happened while she was gone. That was okay, for today.

Tomorrow.

“Okay.” She squeezed his hand, then slipped away and she was at the top of the steps before he glided into the elevator, his head tilted up. Just as the doors closed, she caught him saying “_Friday_…”

Probably letting the others know where he was going. In the bathroom, she glanced at the shower, then at the door and pushed it closed. Slipping out of her clothes, she folded them neatly, her purloined shirt and all.

Stiffness had invaded her muscles and the bruising around her neck looked like a Technicolor nightmare. Still, the rest of her seemed a little improved. Except for the shorter hair and the itching inside her own skin.

“Friday, can you give me a freezing cold shower first—then turn up the heat?”

“Ice bath, Natasha?” There was skepticism in her voice.

“Kind of…I just—I’m feeling very loggy.” It was hard to explain. It was like after she woke in the coffin, only far less intense. “I need a jolt.”

She had on the dog tags and the bracelet.

“How long for the ice shower?” Friday still didn’t sound thrilled.

“Five minutes? Then warm it up.”

“Understood.”

She stepped into the shower and braced her hands on the wall. The one thing she’d always liked about Tony’s bathroom. The shower had jets everywhere. Eyes closed, she said. “Do it.”

The chilled water hit her from all sides and she forced herself to breath through it. But like the ice that had wrapped over her, pinning her in place, forcing her to freeze, unable to even shiver yet violently aware of the passage of time, the cold water would kick start her system. It knocked the grogginess away, forcing sharp clarity into her.

By the time the water began to warm, she was shuddering. But she felt better. She rode out the shivers, turning under the hot spray as she stretched. Her skin pinkened everywhere. She borrowed the shampoo and the conditioner. A laugh bubbled up, Tony used even more expensive product than she did.

It was—funny.

Fifteen minutes later, she stood in the middle of the bathroom wrapped, soaking up the heat all around. Better.

Much better.

“Your respiration and pulse are both vastly improved. They dropped to unsafe levels…”

“I know, but you monitored the same thing in Switzerland and this wasn’t anywhere near as long.”

“Six minutes in Switzerland,” Friday reminded her primly. “Five minutes here. One minute is not an extreme difference.”

“Yes, Mother, it is. And I’m doing _better_ Friday.”

“Natasha, Boss worries about you.”

“Well that makes us even, I worry about him.” She dried off and then got dressed, keeping her purloined AC/DC shirt hidden under the other before she pulled back on the hoodie. “Is everyone back?”

“Mr. Parker joined Sergeant Barnes for the coffee run. Captain Rogers and the Boss are talking in the living room.”

“Talking or arguing?”

There was a pause. “Definitely talking.”

“Okay, good.”

Checking her appearance, she ran her fingers through her hair. “Thanks for your help, Friday.”

“Anytime.”

She could do this. More focused. More alert.

Another piece reclaimed.


	5. Illusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is determined to reclaim her sense of normalcy from tree decorating to pizza making to hanging out with the boys.

**Chapter Five**

**Illusions**

**Natasha**

“Look,” Tony was saying as she descended the steps. “I can have the house fully stocked before we arrive. We’ll get settled, then bring everyone down, spend the holidays there.”

“She won’t want to go to the island,” Steve answered.

“Yeah, but you have to admit you’re tempted,” Tony almost sounded like he was smirking though she couldn’t see his face. “Frankly, I’m tempted.”

“You’re not hard to tempt.” The dry retort pulled a laugh out of Tony. A real one.

“No, no I’m not. But—it’s cold here and the damn Committee. There are a lot of demands.”

“She likes the demands.” Steve wasn’t wrong. “Look, your kneejerk reaction is to fix it.”

“So is yours,” Tony retaliated.

“Didn’t say it wasn’t. But we can’t—_fix_ this.”

Her. They couldn’t fix her.

Arms folded, she sat on the top step. They hadn’t noticed her and from where they stood looking out at the city, they wouldn’t see her unless they turned and looked right at her.

“We can try,” Tony said with a sigh. “It was my fault…”

“We’ve been over this.” The patience in Steve’s voice looped around her like he was sitting next to her with an arm over her shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t Nat’s. It wasn’t Pepper’s. It was that son of a bitch. He set it all up because he wanted to make you pay for some perceived crime. If we could…if we could have avoided all that time he got to torture her, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But we can’t. We can’t wave a wand and just erase it like it never happened.” The longing underscoring those words filtered through her.

Even if they could, she wouldn’t let them. No more edits to her memory.

“I hate feeling helpless.” The agony in Tony’s voice underscored it. “I want…”

“I know.” Clasping Tony’s shoulder, Steve just stood there. The dynamic between them had shifted and never had it been clearer than in this moment. They’d gone through her disappearance together. The whole team had. And they’d come out the other side, stronger.

“Maybe…”

“Tony,” Natasha said his name quietly and it pulled them both around. Surprise stamped on Tony’s face and Steve blew out a breath. “I’ll be fine.”

“You know Red, sometimes, I think you and I have different definitions of fine.” His rueful smile pulled a real one from her.

“Probably. We have different definitions for a lot of things. It’s what makes life interesting.”

Steve grinned. “Feel better, Angel?”

“A little. The shower was nice. I may have to request an upgrade to my shower. I like the multiple jets.” After rising, she descended the stairs.

“I might be able to do something about that,” Tony drawled out slowly. “In the meanwhile, _mi shower es su shower_.”

The man spoke fluent Italian, this she knew for a fact. So either he attempted to mangle Spanish for some reason or he was deliberately going for the cheap laugh in his horrible pronunciation. Either way, it was funny and she chuckled. “Thank you. Can your fire be my fire, too?”

“You want the fireplace on?” Even before Tony finished the question, the gas fireplace lit and the blue and white flames began to dance over the rocks.

It was exactly what she wanted. She considered reclaiming her spot on the sofa and then glanced at the tree. James said they’d ordered decorations for it and there were a small stack of boxes by the dining table. Altering course, she wandered over to open the first box and peered inside.

Lights.

Perfect.

As she began to unpack them, Steve and Tony joined her. The first thing out of Tony’s box surprised her enough to pause. He must have noticed her attention because he held the box over to her. It was a set of Avengers’ ornaments. The whole team.

She was right in the middle of it.

And it _looked_ like her.

Her mouth opened and then closed again.

“Do you hate it?” Tony asked when she stared at them in silence for so long.

“No, but…” She frowned as she looked up from the ornaments to Tony. The first question on her tongue was why, but she didn’t have to ask why. Because he _was_ Tony was the answer. How was a close second, but, again it was Tony. That was how.

It was one thing to be on the news. It was another to be interviewed or talked about, defenestrated on public television for crimes both real and imagined.

But this was—this…

This made her more than just…

“Nat,” Steve said gently, and he’d moved to lean against the table as close as he dared without touching her. “Do you like it?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. At all. There was something familiar about the lines in the face, the care with which it had been constructed. All of the ornaments looked better than the ones she’d found. More accurate. More life-like.

The Other Guy looked like the Other Guy right down to the tense frown lines that he seemed to share with Bruce. Thor’s animated smile seemed to lift right off of his. Clint’s matched his jawline and there was a faint smirk on his lips. The mask didn’t belong there, but she got it. Clint Barton wasn’t the face of the Avengers, so adding a little layer for him was a good plan.

Tony’s suit was a more recent model, but it was still just the suit. Sam looked good. Wanda looked fantastic. Vision was easily enough done and Steve…the Steve of that ornament reminded her of just after the fall of SHIELD. The steely determination adding gravitas even to the moments when they teased each other. He’d been so busy looking for James that laughter had seemed like a distant memory.

How the hell had they captured emotion on these things?

Her face… there was a faint smile on her lips. But she couldn’t peg the when of it, just there was something so familiar.

“It’s based off one of your drawings,” she murmured slowly, then glanced at Steve.

“Yeah,” he answered, and then glanced at Tony. “I’d asked Tony about making an ornament of you for the tree. Before…” He motioned to the box.

“And I went big,” Tony admitted. “I had this huge plan, wanted to roll it out to welcome you back after you agreed to take on the Committee for me—for us. Shirts. Mugs. Hats. Merchandise. When Steve said he wanted to get an ornament made for you, he figured we could use the 3-D printer in the lab.”

“You went for something a little more elaborate?” It wasn’t really a question. The emotion clogging inside threatened to suffocate her.

“Hey,” Tony answered, spreading his hands. “It’s me.”

This time she did let out a laughing huff. It was definitely him.

“For what it’s worth,” Steve said, raising his hand toward her arm but then dropping it again without touching her. “They’re selling like mad. It’s been on the news, how the stores can’t keep them in stock.”

“People want it?”

“Red,” Tony answered. “You’re a hit. But if you hate it—I’ll make them disappear. I wanted…I wanted to help. Not hurt you.”

“Not hurting,” she could admit that. “Just—used to the illusion of anonymity. And really… Parents are buying Black Widow ornaments for their kids?”

“I would,” Tony said without missing a beat. “Laura probably would, too.”

“I guess you’re just going to have to deal with the fact people adore you, Angel,” Steve said and the wryness in his voice added the element of fait accompli. “Black Widow might actually beat Iron Man in the who is your favorite Avenger polls…”

“Bite your tongue,” Tony snarked.

“Well,” Natasha said passing the box of Avengers ornaments back to Tony. “We know who has the Avengers’ best ass.”

Steve groaned, but Tony’s smirk grew. “You got that right, Red. Though if you were wondering, I voted for you.”

This time when she laughed, the tears evaporated. “All right—ornaments, Lights. We need garland and maybe some bows to wrap around the railing over there. Are we ordering food or making it?” The glass separating her from the rest of them cracked farther and she threw herself at it again. No more self-pity. They were gonna decorate the tree and she was gonna have her peppermint mocha any—the elevator chimed. Oh, right now.

Pivoting, she had a smile almost at the ready as James and Peter returned coffee in hand.

“Excellent,” Tony said, clapping his hands. “Just in time to help us work.”

The peppermint was sharp in the mocha; it cooled her mouth like a tonic while elevating the chocolate and espresso. The shock of all the different tastes clamored for her attention, kind of like the shifting focus in the room around her. Tony had taken over stringing the patterns of light, and setting up a very specific arrangement on the tree as well as conscripting Peter into helping him. Peter kept flashing looks in her direction, quick glances he tried to cover, but they were hard to miss much less ignore.

Peter, like all the rest, worried. She didn’t plan to vanish in the puff of a bad thought, however. Even if the room was too warm, too bright, too loud, and too… alive. Steve and James were sorting through the ornaments, setting them up with hooks and occasionally referring between Tony and Peter. Instead of participating, she drifted away from the chaos and into the kitchen where she could still listen and see, but not get lost in it.

Halfway through her mocha, she went through the cabinets and began to pull out the ingredients to make a pizza. There was enough sausage and cheese, she could throw on bacon—and yes there was pepperoni. Everything else would take time to defrost.

The tree lit up red and gold, the Iron Man pattern in the center of it earning a groan from Steve, but Peter laughed when he pointed out the web background the red lights made in three places. Drifting on the hum of their conversation, she began putting together the dough.

Clint arrived as she began to knead it, his hair askew and his eyes bloodshot, but the baggage under them had definitely gone down. He moved with a lot more stiffness than he had earlier. His leg was still healing and he’d definitely been pushing it. Instead of criticizing him, though, since it was partially her fault he’d been pushing it, she just pointed to the extra peppermint mocha the boys had brought back.

He made a face but took a long swig of it then his grimace deepened. “I still don’t get how you drink this stuff.”

“You don’t appreciate good vodka, either,” she pointed out without missing a beat and Clint snorted.

“True enough.” Leaning against the bar, he shifted slightly to watch the guys decorating the tree. “Didn’t feel up to joining in?

A little shake of her head. “Thought I’d make pizza.”

The weight of his gaze rested on her and he moved so that he was more in the kitchen than the living room. Not pushing or pressing, just—being there. He didn’t ask her anything, didn’t add to the chatter rolling out of the living room. Peter and Tony were definitely egging each other on. Steve cut in with the occasional comment, though James saved his occasional stings and seemed to be listening as much as she was.

After she set aside the crusts to rise, she began to heat the sauce and cook the various meats. The bacon needed to be crumbly and the sausage cooked just right, not too done or it would dry out in the oven.

The combination of sauce simmering and meats frying coupled with the peppermint made her stomach roll, but she swallowed the burn of it. Too rich. Too much. It was like sensory overload for her nose.

Twice she had to stop breathing through her nose and just focused on drawing a breath via her mouth.

“You know you can just blow this off, right?” Clint caught her gaze as she transferred the bacon to a plate with a paper towel on it.

“Nope,” Natasha told him firmly. “I don’t know that. Because if I accept that, then I’m running away.” Locking gazes with him. “I’m not going to be afraid of being around people or my friends.”

“You don’t have to be brutal with yourself,” he corrected. “And I’m not telling you to go or saying you have to listen, but you’ve been back a day, Nat. A day. You’re—a rock star.”

With a snort, she shook her head and glanced over to where Steve and James had begun adding the ornaments and Tony kept rearranging them. Peter had perched on the sofa, a hand pressed over his mouth as if to conceal his entertainment.

Despite the fact they were working so diligently, there was no way Steve and James weren’t aware of this conversation. They’d kept a measured distance, not touching her unless she reached for them first. All the relaxation from earlier had utterly fled. The muscles in her back were taut, her head ached, and the bouts of nausea from the food kept coming. It all smelled too good.

“But none of these other assholes are gonna challenge you, not right now.” The bland delivery hit its mark; Steve pivoted and pinned a look on Clint. “My point,” her best friend added with a wry smile.

“Don’t bait them,” she chided, turning to check on the pizza crusts. They were not as high as she’d like but she painted the edges in garlic butter before spreading the sauce. As waves of sickness hit her, she kept her hands steady. Prepping meals like this was something she enjoyed and she refused to surrender it.

“Nat…”

Pausing, she flattened her hands to the counter and met his worried gaze. In a low voice, she said, “I know. I get it. I’m a wreck. I don’t want anyone to touch me; I’m fighting every instinct I have that says go. There are a dozen places I could have disappeared into until I recover. I’m spending time doing…” She didn’t want to say nonsense, because the tree and time together wasn’t nonsense. The fact Steve and Tony seemed to have found common ground was so incredibly not nonsense. The lack of tension threading the air between them relieved her on a level she hadn’t even realized she’d been concerned.

At the same time, she felt like a damn stranger. These people cared about her, enough to come and get her. She cared about them. She’d even admitted it and at the same time, all she wanted to do was just go. To abandon the illusion of having found a place that was hers.

_“I have no place in this world.”_

She shot Madame B a mental finger.

“I _want_ to be here.” _This_ was why she’d survived. _They_ were why she survived. She’d fought. Yes, she’d withdrawn, she’d armed herself as the Widow and all these personal ties were dangerous, they compromised the Widow on every level, and yet, _Natasha_ didn’t give a damn. “So kindly get the fuck off my back, Clint.”

The corners of his mouth tipped and he raised his hands. Some of the worry faded from his eyes. Some. She didn’t have to look to know they’d snagged everyone’s attention.

Blowing out a breath, she resumed putting the pizzas together, stacking the sauce then the cheese, then the meat toppings and Clint kept her company, but he stopped pushing. He only did it because he cared. In the past, she’d needed him to push, to yell at her even as he looked after her in that confusing mix of scolding affection. Right now?

Right now, she needed to be here. Chances were she’d need him to scold her in the future and she would gladly return the favor.

But she wanted to be here.

When she dared a look, the others had resumed their work on the tree but there wasn’t quite the light note they’d had earlier. Not immediately. After she slid the pizzas into the oven, she reclaimed her coffee and forced herself to look at the tree. It was… cheerful. The fire added to the ambience and James held up an ornament of a crystal ballerina, she sighed.

Maybe all of this had been a bad idea. The need to get the hell out of there clawed at her again. Brief as it was, it came in small surges. Her instincts were at war. Natalia would have cut and run a long time ago. Natasha knew better. Peter glanced at her a half-dozen times, his hands fidgeting and she could almost read the need on him to ask her something.

The next time he glanced at her, she caught his gaze and raised her eyebrows. He looked at Tony and the others then back at her and shook his head slowly. She nodded to the elevator. Focusing on his issues would let her compartmentalize her own.

He mouthed _later_? She nodded.

They could do that.

The guys finished just as the pizzas were done cooking and when Tony added an Iron Man helmet as the tree topper, Natasha had to bite back a real smile. It was obnoxious, over the top, completely self-referential and so utterly Tony that it was perfect.

Peter’s reaction to the pizza was almost as adorable as James’ had been. There wasn’t enough to feed the heavy appetites, but in addition, to take out, it worked. It wasn’t long before the hour grew late and she was getting tired. When she said she was going to take Peter down to the car Tony called for him, she thought she would have to stage a mutiny but they backed off.

In the elevator, she glanced at Peter. “Long or short conversation?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted.

“Friday, take us to my floor and ask the driver if he can wait for a few minutes.”

“Of course, Natasha.”

Peter glanced at her curiously. “Friday doesn’t call you Ms. Romanoff anymore?”

“No, we’re working on being friends.” At her floor, she led the way out and Peter trailed after her toward the kitchen. She pulled down a sleeve of crackers and slit it open. “Want one?” The saltines would hopefully settle her stomach.

“No,” he said slowly, glancing from the crackers to her. “You okay?”

“Haven’t eaten a lot the last few days, the rich foods are kind of…messing with my system.” Not a lie. The stress and the flashbacks weren’t helping and her system was probably still trying to purge the drugs. Though she hadn’t actually talked to Helen yet.

“As long as you’re sure.” He didn’t sound as certain.

“Peter, I’m going to be fine. It’s going to take me a little while, but I will be.” There was no other acceptable option. “Now, how can I help you?”

“Are we private?”

“Yes. Friday?”

“Privacy mode default engagement for you, Natasha. I am voice-activated only. I will warn you Boss and the others are wondering why you stopped on your floor.”

“Tell them Peter needs girlfriend advice and has uncomfortable questions about sex.”

Peter’s eyes grew round.

“Message delivered,” Friday said, not quite snickering. “They will await your return.”

Not rolling her eyes, she smiled at Peter. “Don’t worry, if they ask you what advice I gave you, you tell them if they want to know they have to ask me themselves. I swore you to secrecy.”

He flushed a beautiful deep red and then laughed. “That’s—devious.”

“My specialty,” she said with a wink. “Now, let’s sit because I have a feeling we might be here a while.” She snagged a glass of water to go with her crackers and Peter picked up a soda.

She tugged the blanket off the back of her sofa and tucked it around her legs, then resumed nibbling the crackers while she waited for him to figure out what he needed advice on.

“Well, first thing… I told Tony about Oscorp.”

“Okay. That’s good.” Peter had been very skittish about that information. “And you’re okay with it?”

“I think so,” he said slowly, then nodded a little more enthusiastically. “The night…the night you were taken…I knew something was wrong.”

She raised her brows. “How?”

“I don’t know. It was like that day on the street, when those teams were hunting you…and like when you were in Oscorp. It happened at the airport in Germany, too. There was a moment when I knew something was going to happen just a split second before it did—it’s a kind of all over dread. Like, I know in my gut that something is off.”

Natasha got that. She’d had similar feelings, but that was instinct and training. Sometimes a situation just read as wrong or her gut told her she was missing something.

“This was the worst it’s ever been,” Peter admitted. “It happened that day when we were training, do you remember?”

“When James was going to smack you with his left hand?”

Peter nodded.

“You think you have a precognitive ability in addition to the other enhancements the irradiated spider gave you?” She sucked the salt off the cracker before she began to chew it thoughtfully. While she had the files on the Oz—the manufactured drug Oscorp used on their spider—she just hadn’t had time to read up on all of it. Too many distractions and she owed it to Peter to be better.

“Maybe?” Peter spread his hands. “But Tony had questions similar to yours, how did I get enhanced. What happened? What did I have before? What came later?”

She nodded slowly. “You’re working on trying to figure that out?”

“Maybe? I mean I couldn’t climb walls before, but I was always hyper. I was always good at math and physics and science stuff. I pick up things really quick. I’m okay at languages and they said my reading comprehension was off the charts.”

“So you were born smart,” she murmured, not bothering to hide her smile. “I believe you.”

He blushed again. “But…the strength? The speed? Those feel…more. I was kind of clumsy when I was younger. I always felt out of sync with the rest of me. Aunt May said I was just going through growing pains and that when my body and brain got on the same page, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“She wasn’t wrong, it’s normal to struggle in adolescence with the physical changes, or even to struggle as a child… we’re not all made the same, Peter. I was always small for my age, too small. Too scrawny.” The infusions had been designed to keep her alive because they’d seen something in her. Sometimes, she had to wonder what the hell that had to have been? Or had they decided she was expendable for their experiments since it was likely she wouldn’t have survived anyway?

“Maybe. I just know I’m better now, but the dreaded feeling…the feeling like something was terribly wrong. I couldn’t find you anywhere at the party when it started and then…I knew it had to be you but I didn’t understand the what or where and it didn’t help to locate you.”

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t help to find Pepper.” After washing down another cracker with the water, she tilted her head to study him. “Peter, you’re not blaming yourself.”

“I’m trying not to…” Somehow, that admission didn’t surprise her. “When…when we had the video from Tony’s memory machine,” he hiccupped a little on the last and icy fingers trailed up her spine. “Pepper shared what she could remember and I watched it.”

Natasha sighed. They should never have let Peter see that. “What did you see?”

“You—fighting the Mandarin, the guy. You…you fought a lot of people, but you fought him with that sword and then…”

“He stabbed me.”

Peter nodded slowly. “But you didn’t die.”

“No,” she murmured. “I didn’t.”

“Natasha? Are you enhanced, too?” Simple question.

“Yes.” Simple answer.

“Oh, thank God,” he said with a slump of his shoulders. “I thought—when I first saw you stabbed that you were going to be dead. But—then he sent the other videos.”

“I’m not immortal, Peter. I can die…I mean I assume I can be killed.” She didn’t seem to age, or at least it had been dramatically slowed. “But I also heal.”

“Really, really fast.”

“Faster than normal, this last time around.” She gave a little sigh. “Peter…”

“Why am I asking?” He raised his brows.

“Partially, but more—are you okay?” Like every other man upstairs, there was a weariness to Peter. His eyes held shadows that didn’t belong there and he dipped his chin.

“I don’t know. Bucky’s been great, so has Steve and Tony. But if I can tell when something is wrong…why couldn’t I find you faster? Why couldn’t _we_ find you faster?”

“Is it just the sense that something is wrong? Not specifically what it is?”

Spreading his hands, he shook his head. “Not… specifically.”

“So at the party, how did you know something was wrong with me?”

The crackers were definitely helping so she kept working on them.

“I…I just had that creeping feeling of dread. I could see everyone, except you. When I asked Tony and Steve about you, they said you were fine and Tony went to prove it only he couldn’t.”

The jammer had blocked the bracelet, though she’d transferred it to Pepper. She glanced down at the slender metal bracelet encircling her wrist.

“Then…they went looking, Tony gave me a comm and told me to stay on channel 3, but that feeling, it just wouldn’t stop and then…” He shrugged.

“And then?”

“It did.” The sorrow in those eyes pulled at her. Setting the crackers aside, she sat forward and held out her hands to him. He put his soda down and slid his hands across her palms.

“I’m going to hug you, okay?” she said it aloud as much for him as for her.

Tears reflected in his eyes, and she scooted over and wrapped her arms around him. He hesitated for only a split-second, then his arms locked around her. Tight, but not so tight she couldn’t breathe. Not so tight she didn’t immediately smell the concrete room or feel the roughness of the floor torturing her cheek as The Mandarin ran his hands… Blocking it out, she focused on Peter.

“I’m going to be fine,” she told him, her voice rock steady. Inhabiting the role of the recovering might be a bit deceptive, but Peter needed her to be stronger. It would come sooner or later; he didn’t need to suffer in the meanwhile. “You helped. Nothing in this business is exact. We all do what we can. If we never give up, if we devote ourselves to doing our best…that’s what makes us capable of doing this job.”

The pressure of his cheek against her shoulder had her running her hand down his back.

“Peter, everything that happened, it’s not your fault.”

“He tortured you.”

“Yes he did,” she said as evenly as she could. “_He_ did. Not you.”

“But I should have…”

Leaning back a fraction, she cupped his face until he lifted his tear-drenched eyes to look at her. “You did exactly what you should have done. You went to Tony and Steve. You told them something was wrong. What did Tony tell you to do next?”

“To stay on channel three…and then…he told me to send Liz home because he might need my help. Then we got all the people out, I sent Liz home and then it was a waiting game.”

“And next?”

“Um…when we finally got a signal, we raced up to the mountains. But they found Pepper and not you—there was a lot of blood on the bridge.” He shook his head a little but didn’t pull away from her. “There was so much blood. They did scans and samples. Ms. Carter and Clint took a lot. They searched in the basin among the rocks—after Ms. Carter found one of your bracelets.”

The stingers. The Mandarin had sliced the chain and broken the catch. She’d lost her armor.

The fight replaced for her as Peter described their time there. Then returning with the samples. How he hadn’t wanted to go, but Tony told him he could help. The work in the lab, talking to Tony.

Every step of his week, going to school and having to pretend to be normal while being worried sick. Seeing the torture videos. Watching her fight. How Tony came for him at school with Steve—and it was so weird. That even got her a watery laugh. Liz and he were still tight even though he felt like he was lying to her every minute of every day and he continued sharing the details up until the moment of her rescue.

“And then I slept… First time I think I really slept since it happened.”

“So what could you have possibly thought you did wrong in all of that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nothing,” she told him firmly. “You did _nothing_ wrong. You worked with the team. You backed up Tony; you put your brain into play with the research and the samples. You went to school, which you have to do, and you kept it together. When it was time to run an op, you followed Steve and Tony’s leads. You did exactly what you were supposed to do Peter.”

“I caught you,” he said, his expression a little hopeful.

“Twice,” she reminded him. “You caught me twice, though I prefer the other suit to the armor for that particular trick.”

A watery laugh escaped him. “It was a little awkward in that thing—don’t tell Tony.”

Nat chuckled then pulled him close for another squeeze. The contact was a little too much, but he needed it and if she were one hundred percent honest, she kind of needed it, too. “I won’t. I thought it was claustrophobic the first time I put his helmet on.”

“Right?” Peter pulled back this time, his eyes bigger, some of his tears drying. “I mean I wear a mask.” He loosened one arm and mimed drawing his hand over his face. “It hugs my face, but I can breathe through it and stuff. His is like this…”

Coffin.

An image of the padded ceiling above her flashed through her mind.

“…jarhead. Literally.”

Natasha chuckled. “Now you understand why I call him shellhead.” It wasn’t a question.

Peter bobbed his head once. “I do.” He slid his hand down until he was just holding her hand. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” she told him. “How is everything else going?”

He glanced at the clock. “The driver?”

“Will wait. If necessary, I can send him on and I’ll drive you back myself.”

Making a face, Peter said, “I don’t know if any of them would like that.”

“Too bad,” Natasha said with a shrug. “I’m an adult, Peter. I get to do what I want.”

“Are you still mad at them?” That was new.

“Who told you I was mad at them?” Then at the same time as he, she said, “Tony.”

He nodded. “He was really upset, said he said some stupid stuff.”

“They all did, a little. They’re protective and they mean well. But I’m capable of looking after myself.”

“You were kidnapped.” Then at her arched brows, he lifted both hands. “I don’t mean that like I think you were wrong to tell them to back off.”

“I’m pretty sure Tony didn’t tell you that part.”

“Well, I may have…overheard some things.”

“Peter Parker,” Natasha shifted to pull her legs under herself. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“Um…” Sans filter, he couldn’t keep the flash of guilt of his face or the healthy flush of embarrassment. “I was worried,” he admitted. “About you, about Tony…I was worried about what happened and I heard them talking—“ Before she could ask who, or even decide she was going to ask who, he continued. “Tony and Steve. Bucky caught me listening and he told me that they’d made some tactical errors. Clint corrected him though and said they made personal errors.”

Natasha smiled. That was one way of putting it.

“I might make you into a sneak yet,” she told him and gave his hand a squeeze.

Another flush, this time a pleased one. “Are you still mad at them?”

“No,” she said with a sigh. “I mean I don’t like what they did. Even though I understand it. It’s natural to protect what you care about.”

“Like going into the sludge for me?”

A slow nod. “Yes.” James and Steve had been angry that she would risk herself that way. Tony had been angry when she left the Tower to find the Mateo Guerda, specifically because she hadn’t let him track her. They’d all been angry when she kept the headaches from them. But they made choices she wasn’t fond of either, part of being who they all were. They got the right to make those calls for themselves.

“You know they felt really bad about what they did.”

“You don’t have to defend them to me, Peter. I know why they made the choices they did. I also know they would do it again. They want to keep me safe.”

“I want to keep you safe,” Peter admitted. “I know I haven’t known you as long as they have but…”

“You’re used to my input.” That was how Friday put it.

A shy smile. “A little bit.”

“Well, I’ll remind you of that the next time we’re training and I’m pushing you.” That netted her another smile. “What else is bugging you Peter?”

“The Vulture,” he admitted. “I can’t find him. It’s like—he was there and then disappeared. Totally. No signs of him. No break-ins. No hijackings. Nothing. If I hadn’t actually seen him with my own eyes, I’d start thinking he was made up. No one else has seen him.”

“How are you looking for him?” If Peter stuck to Queens or even Manhattan and Brooklyn, there was a chance the man moved on. “Have you seen him since the ferry incident?”

He shook his head. “No, but I’ve seen some of his guys. Okay, seen might be a strong word, but I’ve heard of them doing some stuff. Just—I don’t know if I should keep patrolling and looking for him or wait until he does something else.”

“You don’t know which but you know which one you want to do.” She didn’t even have to ask. Hunting a criminal who’d wreaked havoc and tried to kill him on at least one if not two occasions? No, Natasha wanted to find him, too.

“I don’t want to ask,” Peter confessed. “But I need your help. I don’t know how to find him.”

“Well, when you lose the trail, you go back to where it starts and you retrace the path because somewhere along the way is where you lost them.” Somewhere along the way…

She had told James she wanted to go to Montana and they’d agreed to go after the holidays. Christmas was in a little over a week. But when she left Montana it hadn’t been snowy. It had been summer or very late summer, maybe early autumn.

The trail began there. No matter where she ended up the trail began there. Her eyes didn’t hurt and the half-expected flash of pain didn’t make a reappearance. Maybe because she had recovered that memory, broken that mental block.

“Natasha?”

“I was just thinking. What are you doing for the next couple of days?”

“We have a couple of exams and then nothing until the break.”

“When are the exams?”

“Wednesday.”

“Thursday night, I’ll join you for patrol. I want you to take me to where you saw him first. We’re going to run the pattern.”

“Actually run it?” He looked a little worried.

“I’ll bring a bike. You can swing, I’ll ride.” She’d probably end up bringing one of the guys along, too. “We’ll figure it out. Okay?”

“Okay.” He glanced at the time, then at her. It had been more than an hour. “I should go.”

“Friday?”

“The driver continues to await Mr. Parker patiently.”

Standing, she walked him to the elevator. He gave her another hug. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” she murmured. “Just don’t think this gets you out of tacos if you come by tomorrow.”

His laugh relaxed some of the tension in his shoulders and then he waved before the doors closed. Alone, she paced back to her sofa and curled back into her spot and reclaimed her crackers.

Fifteen minutes after Peter left, Friday chimed in.

“Sergeant Barnes would like permission to join you, Natasha.”

“It’s fine,” she said. She’d made a cup of tea to go with her crackers and most of the earlier nausea had fled. The elevator doors slid open and James stood there in sweatpants and a t-shirt, as though ready for bed. Even his feet were bare.

She glanced at the clock. It must have grown later than she thought.

“You’re fine, Doll,” James said as he crossed over to sit on the opposite end of the sofa. She shifted the blanket to share it and he smiled at her. “Just…”

“Wanted to see me?” The fact he needed it and didn’t hide the desire tied her up in knots. The longing, the need… it should scare the hell out of her or at least aggravate her. It had the night of the party, but—it wasn’t just the need. The need she understood. The double-standard and the lack of trust though? That was something else.

“A little bit. I know, I am holding on too tight,” he said, lifting his hand. “I’m going to work on that. But…”

“James, I can remember Mary now and every fiber of my being wants to find her immediately and not wait. That you’ve managed any sort of control at all is beyond admirable.”

His expression dipped. “I think it’s because I have all of it. I keep wondering if and when you remember… will this need to not let what little we have recaptured together slip away ease up? Or will it get worse?”

“You relaxed some after we… had sex.”

“Not really,” he admitted, the corners of his mouth curving into an almost sheepish smile. “I think you just grew more accustomed to having me there.”

Leaning her cheek against the sofa, she said, “I’m trying.”

“You don’t have to try, Doll. You’re here. You’re alive. We’re not asking for one iota more. You take and do what you need.”

“It was like being in the Red Room again in some ways, different because I wasn’t afraid of dying. I knew I could survive, but I also knew what I had to destroy to do it. What I had to take apart… now I’m here and it feels…”

“Alien.” Of course, he understood. “Can’t say I don’t know what that feels like. It was me in Switzerland when I first got there. It was me after D.C. after the hellicarriers and I walked away—ran away.” He sighed. “You’ve been through this before.”

“’84, then again in the ‘90s, and finally…when I went to SHIELD. It wasn’t so bad after SHIELD and yet, it was at the same time. I’ve always been able to reinvent myself. To become someone else.”

“But how many times have you had to find yourself again after you cut away those pieces?” That was the question.

After SHIELD, she’d left. Disappeared. Went in search of new covers and took out the hunters who came for her. She’d tried to rediscover who she’d been. All those years in SHIELD…

“Knowing what I know now… I know why I couldn’t. Why every attempt seemed to fail.” Stretching her legs, she slid her feet one at a time onto his lap and he shifted to settle his hand over her ankles. “Tony and Steve made an ornament of me.”

He smiled. “She’s not as beautiful as the real thing.”

“It’s so weird.”

James chuckled. “Don’t tell them that, they are both very proud. Stevie wasn’t too thrilled with the mass marketing, but after you found those ornaments that night—he was very determined to find or make one of you. He wants you to have everything.”

“It’s lovely, but… I can’t seem to connect with it. It’s like there’s this part of me that’s laser-focused on Mary. I can’t breathe without thinking of her. Without pulling apart these memory fragments I have, but if I linger too long on anything I haven’t already remembered… it hurts. Then there’s the doctor and the tests and the holidays… and Clint wants me to stop hiding behind it all to let it out and you and Steve need to take care of me and Tony…”

She sighed.

“What about Tony, Doll?”

“He needs to fix everything. He wants to fix this for me so badly.”

“Okay, so that’s what all of us want to do…what do you want to do?”

“I don’t want to feel this nothingness,” she admitted. There weren’t words in any language for the walled off emptiness inside of her. “That’s what it feels like right now, like I’m…stuck where it’s too much or not enough.”

“You went through Hell, Doll, you went through it and you came out the other side still fighting. You cut that bastard’s hand off.”

A smile worked its way across her lips.

“You created a network of support that came for you, but _you_ held yourself together. You didn’t give into him, not one inch and nothing he did, _nothing_, can take anything from you.”

“Except what I gave up.” That was the part she didn’t think any of them could truly understand. She wasn’t sure she understood it. “I can become anyone. I can—slip from one role to another. Nothing compromised me. The Widow is the one foundation I have. When I am her… nothing touches us.”

“Chernya vdova,” he murmured. “You think the Soldier and I don’t know that well?”

“But you’re whole again.” That part was so important. He’d gotten those pieces of himself back.

“Am I?” He raised his eyebrows. “I’m always going to be him, Doll. I remember the Bucky I was before the war, before I went over. I remember the carousing and the womanizing—God I loved women.” He let out a laugh. “I loved them tall, I loved them short, I loved them curvy, and I loved them any way I could find them. I loved women, I loved my family, and I loved Steve. Then I went to fight a war I wanted nothing to do with. It changed me…it changed him. I survived Zola’s experiments and I thought—I’ll be better now. I’ll stick with Steve. We’ll win this damn war and go home.”

Only, he hadn’t gone home.

James lifted his shoulders. “Then you know what happened next, Natalia. But all of that—I would live it all again because it would mean I got to meet you. It would mean I was there at your graduation. That I could be there for you. Every dehumanizing moment. Every time they threw the switch in that chair. Every single time they tried to chip you out of my brain. I’d relive it all because they are dead and you and I are sitting right here. We are experts on reconstruction and I won’t let you fall. I’ll catch you, lyubov moya. And if I can’t, I’ll fucking jump with you.”

Tears prickled her eyes and she ducked her chin. “I’m glad Steve found you.”

The corner of James’ mouth kicked up. “I told you, we have a very stubborn super soldier in our corner. He will always come for us.”

Closing up the sleeve of crackers, she set it on the table next to her nearly empty teacup. James tracked the motion, but he didn’t ask though the question was in his eyes.

“I starved for a lot of that, the smell of all the rich food was making me sick,” she admitted.

“And you made us pizza,” he made it almost sound like an accusation before his expression gentled. “You’re going soft on us.”

“Going? Pretty sure I’ve long gone.”

His smile turned indulgent “Perhaps I am the luckiest man alive, then.”

Not rolling her eyes, she tilted her head to rest against the sofa as she flexed her feet. “Everyone knows what happened.”

He nodded.

“Not just that The Mandarin took me, Peter said he saw the fight on the bridge because of BARF—or whatever Tony is calling it. He saw the tapes he sent.”

A light squeeze against her leg. “Peter wouldn’t shy away from it, Natalia. He loves you. It scared him, but he faced every moment because he needed to find a way to help.”

“I hate that he saw it.”

“Can you forgive me for not stopping him?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, I just… it’s easy to reinvent yourself when no one knows the truth. Now…the truth is all anyone seems to know.”

“The truth is they love _you,_ Natalia, they do not see you as any less. If anything they are in awe of you.”

“Peter knows I’m enhanced. He asked.” Not that it worried her. He wouldn’t betray her, but…

“No one will come to take you apart Natalia. We will all stand in the way. You have lived in the shadows because you had no choice. I know you aren’t comfortable with the light, but you are not alone.”

No, she wasn’t.

It was easier to be someone else when no one knew who she was. It was a good way not to die, but a very lonely way to live.

“Is Steve still up with Tony?”

“We went to our floor when you came down here with Peter and after we sent Tony to bed. He’s exhausted and tomorrow will be here soon enough for both of you.”

Tomorrow.

There was still the Committee. The team… “Has anyone checked on Wanda or Sam…”

A light squeeze. “They’re fine, Doll. They’re worried about you. We told them you were going to be fine as well, you just needed to rest.”

At some point, she and Tony still needed to talk. She needed to call Isaiah. Logan needed to call her dammit. “I still need to Christmas shop.” She studied him. “And we still have our date.”

A slow nod. “Can you handle sleeping with one of us tonight or do you want to be alone?”

“I did okay before. With both of you.” At his smile, she nudged him with her toes. “But I think I want to go watch movies and think about anything that isn’t… this.”

“Done.” Like it wasn’t a question. “What do you want to watch?”

“Where are we on your lists?”

James grinned. “Let’s go ask Stevie… popcorn, too?”

“Maybe,” she hedged. “Not sure my stomach is up for it.”

He slid off the sofa and rose, then gathered her crackers and teacup. He took care of the clean up while she stood and refolded her blanket.

“Natalia?”

Twisting, she looked over her shoulder.

“I love you. Every piece. We’re going to get through this.”

She believed him.

“Thank you.”

“No thanks required.”

“No, some thanks required. You said we did this for each other, we carried the memories, the weight when the other couldn’t.”

He was doing it now.

“Yes.”

Looking down at her hands, she curled her fingers into her palms and then released them. “I may need you to do something more if I can’t get over this touching thing.”

“It’s been a little over a day, lyubov moya. We have time. And I am a very patient man…”

Leaving the kitchen he held out his hand and waited. She clasped his metal fingers. They were almost easier than his flesh ones to hold. Maybe he knew that. In the elevator, she leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m going to change. Will you make me tea?”

“Yes,” he said and when the doors opened, Steve glanced up from where he sat in his chair, sketchbook out. The flash of worry on his face gave way to relief before he could cover it. Not that he had that much of a poker face. Better, but not a winner yet.

“I was wondering if you two were going to have a sleepover,” he said.

“We are—just down here, with you,” she told him because he, like James, was being patient with her and it only worked if they all kept talking.

“But first,” James added. “We’re watching a movie. Natalia said we should go to the next one on our list.”

“I’m going to change,” she said, releasing James’ hand and heading for her room.

In her room, she glanced around at the made bed, the framed photographs, and the little signs like James’ knife on the nightstand and Steve’s shield tucked next to his side of the bed that said they shared the room with her.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and then released it. The illusion might be easier sometimes, but she preferred her reality. In her closet, she stripped out of the clothes, including her stolen t-shirt, then hid the AC/DC shirt before wandering out of the bedroom and over to Steve’s room. There was a curse from the kitchen and she bit back a smile as she plundered into Steve’s closet and found one of his gray t-shirts that he wore running. It was super soft, and stretched. Dragging it on, she glanced out to find Steve eyeing her from his doorway.

“Just checking,” he murmured.

Natasha smiled a little. Her reality was she got to tease them some. “Do you mind?”

“Not even a little.”

When he held out his hand, she padded across the floor and slid her palm across his. Her skin buzzed and the hum was there, but it was quieter. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and he bent his head to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“You sure you’re up for a movie?”

“Yes, I am… What are we watching?”

“How do you feel about _Home Alone_? It says it’s an action-comedy.”

“The first or the third one?”

Steve gave her a mystified look and she grinned.

“Let’s try to watch the third one first.”

“Okay…any reason why?”

“Kid beats spies. It’s hilarious.”

Steve snorted. “Only you would think that’s hilarious.”

“Wait until you see it.” Worst. Spies. Ever.

“You said that about Bill and Ted,” Steve said with a fair amount of skepticism.

“And I was right about them,” she sniffed.

“Anything you say, Angel.” But the laughter in his voice helped crack some more of the glass. Eventually, she’d get it all down.

Every last piece of it.


	6. Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The throuple is finding their balance, some steps are easier than others.

**Chapter Six**

_Routine_

Steve

Getting Natasha to sleep had taken patience and coaxing, with far more emphasis on the former than the latter. Never could he have imagined her like this. His Natasha was so self-possessed, in control, and fierce. She dominated every room she entered and even when she slipped to the shadows, her gentle, careful hand helped him navigate even the stormiest seas. What The Mandarin had done to her precisely beyond the horrors he’d shown them, Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to imagine—she had been a prisoner of war, tortured, abused, and surviving only because her will exceeded that of her captor.

Her will exceeded that of anyone Steve knew. Still, she’d settled between them, forcing herself to push past her own reticence. She’d gone to sleep with her back to Steve’s chest, her head pillowed on his arm and her hands gripping Bucky’s. Over the course of a couple of hours, she’d moved away, curling up between them. Every movement roused him.

Sleep had been fleeting over the last several days, but he’d been through something like this before. Only then, Bucky just blew him off. He’d acted like everything was fine, even when it wasn’t. Once he got his legs under him, he’d never revealed what Zola had done or the changes he experienced. They’d confronted a lot of that, but Bucky hadn’t been the only prisoner of war in that camp.

Dum-Dum, Morita, Jacques, Falsworth, and Gabe—they’d all been there, too. They’d all suffered, been exposed to toxins, and they’d tried to buoy each other but those shadows had never gone away. The darkness slipping in and around those endless green eyes of hers in no way drowned out the personality of the woman he loved, but she was fighting for air—for every gasp of it as she kept her head above water.

Steve damn well knew it was a fight. In this, as with most of her life, she seemed to be waging a war all alone. But she wasn’t alone. If he had his way, she’d never be alone again. While he couldn’t get into a straight-on battle with her nightmares, he would wade right into the middle of them if she’d let him.

On the one hand, if he could go kill The Mandarin over again, he’d have made it hurt a hell of a lot more. He would have inflicted upon him the damage he’d scraped over Natasha. This—aftermath—wasn’t about The Mandarin. Avenging her wouldn’t have been about her, but about him. About mitigating the pain he felt that she suffered and he couldn’t stop it. That he’d failed her on some level. No amount of the reason Steve had given Tony on the same subject could absolve himself his own accountability for the same crime.

They’d failed her.

All of them.

When she shifted, he opened his eyes in time to catch her sliding down the bed. She eased to her feet, careful not to touch either he or Bucky. But he wasn’t the only one awake, the shift in Bucky’s breathing told him that his best friend had probably roused in the same moment he had. They were hyper-aware of her.

On her feet, she stood there in the shadows of the bedroom, not moving. Steve forced himself to keep his breathing even. But she tilted her head to the side, then glanced over her shoulder. Busted.

“Go back to sleep if you can,” she murmured. Then she padded out of the bedroom. The lights from the tree gleamed and Steve narrowed his eyes at the sudden brightness before it vanished when the door closed.

“You going back to sleep?” Bucky asked.

Steve almost laughed. “Unlikely. But one of us should.”

Holding out a fist, Bucky eyed him.

One-two-three.

Steve’s fist held the rock while Bucky’s formed scissors. He bumped his fist lightly to Bucky’s hand. “I’m up. Try to sleep. We may be doing this in shifts for a while.”

“Yep,” Bucky agreed with him, and rolled back, one arm over his eyes. The likelihood he’d truly drop off was slim. It had been like this on the island for that first week. Neither of them able to sleep for the nightmares. Only this was a little different, Steve wasn’t worried about what he’d see in his dreams—but what he wouldn’t see if he closed his eyes too long.

Natasha was alive.

She was home.

After hitting the bathroom, he headed out to the living room. Buck’s even breathing suggested he’d drifted back to sleep. Probably not deep, but better than nothing. According to the clock, it was a little after three in the morning. So she’d managed a few hours in addition to the nap she’d taken mid-day and the near sixteen plus she’d slept with Clint the night before.

It was definitely better than nothing.

The kettle was on and she stood in the kitchen, twining her fingers around the chain with his dog tags on it. Steve gave it a beat, letting her become aware of his presence before he joined her in the kitchen. Hovering would only infuriate her and as much as he wanted to coddle her, he’d wait for her to ask for it. She didn’t want to be touched—returning to that reality just left him fuming at dead enemies he couldn’t kill twice. But at the end of the day, she was the woman he loved and his dearest friend, so he couldn’t ignore any of this either.

“I woke you up,” she murmured.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I had to get up in a couple of hours to go running anyway.”

The pause grew pregnant as she stared at him and then the corners of her mouth edged up into the smile he adored and her eyes softened. The darkness withdrew and she laughed. “Well, if you’re not early…”

He nodded. “Exactly. You’re late.” With a wink, he got the coffee started and began to relax. “Want to go with me?”

“Running?” She arched both brows as her water began to boil. “Let me see how the ribs feel in a couple of hours.” The smile on her face grew. “Thank you for asking.”

“Anytime…I mean if I’m up early, I have all the time in the world to go slow.”

Her punch to his arm was everything. So was her laugh. “You know, just for that…”

“Whatcha got, Romanoff?” He said, leaning back against the counter, arms folded.

“Depending on the ribs, how about a spar?”

“You don’t have to be fast to do that.” It was like baiting a tiger, but the spark in her eyes and the fact they rounded even as she laughed made it worth it.

“You know, you’re going to pay for that.”

Yep. He did. On the other hand… “You gotta catch me first.”

“Punk.”

Triumph filtered through him, meeting her gaze he said, “Brat.”

With all the class and style he would expect, she stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned as she poured the boiling water over the tea bag. The steam rose up steadily, but the faint smile remained there. “In other news…” The significance she layered onto the first part of the sentence chastised him to listen. “Christmas shopping.”

That was a subject he was more than willing to tackle. “We need a plan,” he finished the thought, totally getting where she headed.

“Yes.” Turning from the teacup, she motioned to the coffee. “You’re ready for second brew. Hungry?”

“Depends…” Aware he probably just earned another _look_ from her, he busied himself with the second pour.

“On?” The arch tone dared him to be an ass. God knew he’d never been able to resist a real dare.

“Well, what are you planning on making? Any more secret recipes you’ve been saving for a rainy day?” A glance over his shoulder gave him the front row to her smirk. Damn, he’d missed that smirk.

“How about some dry toast and yogurt?” Yep. There came the sting.

“You make dry toast? That doesn’t sound like a real talent.”

Yes. He got the middle finger. Chortling, he finished with the coffee before facing her again.

“You think you’re funny.”

“Correction,” he said. “I know I’m funny. You know how I know?”

“Do tell.”

“You’re laughing.”

“On the inside.” She stuck her tongue out at him again then moved to the fridge. The brighter light filtered over her. Revealing the bruises around her throat had faded more. She’d removed the stitches the day before, the angry pink line where they’d been had diminished to only cranky. The bruises on her face had also lessened.

The clearing of her throat brought his gaze up to her face and he sighed. She’d caught him staring.

“You can look,” she murmured. “It’s not like you haven’t seen everything up close and personal.”

“I don’t want to keep asking how you are.”

“Steve,” she said with a long exhale, then paused as her gaze seemed to land on something in the fridge. “Oh.” Holding the door with her hip, she opened a drawer and pulled out a couple of tins of cinnamon rolls. “Score!”

The morning after on the island flooded back to him. He’d made those for them and she’d devoured several, her energy levels boosted and looking better than she had in days. All after a night spent between him and Buck, where they’d shared her together then passed her back and forth.

The boost of their serums on hers.

That brought Tony’s advice screaming to the surface, but he clapped a mental hand over Tony’s mouth. Not right now. While Steve appreciated the insight and understood Tony’s goals, Tony and sex were not two topics he wanted linked even if it was all underscored by Tony’s very real love for the woman they both adored.

Focusing on what she needed, he grinned. “While not protein, I definitely approve of your taste.”

He started the oven preheating and poured his coffee through for a third brew while she finished her tea. Then he grabbed a pan out and they worked side by side to set out the cinnamon rolls. When she had her legs under her fully, then he would bring up Tony's observations.

“Christmas shopping,” he prompted, careful not to bump her hip even though he would have done that in the past. Moderating his physical reactions took discipline, but until she was more comfortable—that was exactly what he would do.

When the cinnamon rolls were ready, he slid them into the preheated oven as she retreated to the island with her mug of tea. His coffee was finally ready so he poured himself a cup while keeping an eye on her out of his periphery.

“I haven’t done any,” she admitted. “I had ideas and I kept meaning to order some things but… I got busy.”

“Angel, we have time. We can shop online right now if you want.”

A ghost of her earlier smile appeared. “Online shopping. Remember the first time I showed you how to do that?”

He made a face. “I didn’t quite grasp the concept until you compared it to catalog shopping, just faster.”

Another laugh escaped her and he grinned. He’d do anything for that laugh. “Well, the principle is the same. Okay…” She blew out a breath then took a sip of tea before adding, “Shopping for the kids should be pretty easy. I have ideas for Peter and Wanda.”

“Okay. Do we need to pull up a holo screen?”

“Friday?” Natasha glanced at the ceiling.

“Good morning, Natasha. I hope you slept well when you slept.” The affectionate tone from the AI pulled another smile from her and Steve grinned.

“It wasn’t too bad, actually. Just—you know, let’s just go with it wasn’t too bad. Could you bring up a holo screen for us and check to see if Coop, Lila and Nate have wish lists on Amazon?”

“Of course.”

The holo screen opened over the kitchen table. By the time, the cinnamon rolls came out, Nat leaned on her elbows, knees on the chair almost like a kid herself inspecting the items as Friday scrolled through them.

“Are you sure you want to get them a punching bag?”

“Well Clint has one there—but it’s a speed bag more designed for adults. Coop and Lila have softer bones and they need something with more give and decent gloves. Laura and I talked about me possibly training Lila at some point, but—this is good for more than just training to fight. It’s very therapeutic.”

He carried the plates with the cinnamon rolls over and chuckled. “You don’t have to tell me. Maybe we should get them some extra bags—you know just in case.”

The teasing remark earned him a flick of her fingers before she picked up one of the cinnamon rolls. She eyed it carefully and then sniffed it before taking a delicate bite. Steve held his breath as he awaited her reaction.

“I really want to eat this and not get sick,” she admitted.

“I really want you to eat that and not get sick.” He wholeheartedly concurred. “Take it slow?”

She hadn’t thrown up again though they’d stuck to bland foods for her and crackers, despite the fact she’d made them a pizza. He hadn’t missed her pallor during prep or how she’d avoided eating any.

Some people weren’t good at asking for help. He should know, he was one of them. While their reasons were likely similar, they came at it from two different sides. Her entire life had been an experience in unbalanced give and take. She had always been the helper, except with Bucky. With Bucky, they’d carried each other. Their instincts to rely on each other had survived, but with him? With him, they both acted like they needed to do it on their own and take care of him. It raked him the wrong way both because Natasha had been looking after him since they’d met and Bucky had looked after him for years.

They were fighting for a balance now, but their instincts were always to just do it on their own. Neither Buck nor Natasha needed to do any of this on their own. Not as long as he was here.

Or Clint.

Or Tony.

“It smells so good,” she admitted, then took a small bite. The frosting clung to her lower lip for a moment before she licked it off.

“Little bites then… and we take it slow.” Steve picked up one and took a small bite, too. Her eyes softened and her smile grew.

“Steve…you eat like three times what I do on a normal day. You cannot take such small bites.”

“Of course I can,” he countered. “Now, we’ll train your stomach to be cooperative with you again and we’ll enjoy our treats. So—tell me what else are we getting Clint’s kids for their new battle gym?”

She laughed. “It’s not going to be a battle gym. Clint is going to get Lila her own bow set, and he has targets and a range already set up there. This can go in the barn, near his. So the kids can work out again it the same as he would.” After another bite, she scrolled. “I thought a galaxy model that Tony could add more anti-grav too.” The wry twist to the words made him laugh. “And perhaps more ships to add to his collection?”

“Mario Kart,” Steve added. “Unless they already have that game.”

“Probably. But we could look at similar games…”

Oh, he liked that idea. Then she had Captain America toys up along with a play shield. That stuff made him shake his head. “Why are we looking at these?”

“Because,” Natasha told him, lifting his cinnamon roll and holding it up for him to take a bite which he did quite willingly. “Nate is a fan.”

The next hour passed swiftly. They picked out over a dozen gifts for the kids and when Steve pointed out she was spoiling the kids, she’d made a face at him and said _that’s my job, I’m Auntie Nat._

Surrendering that fight took no effort at all. She ate two of the cinnamon rolls and there was a hint of color in her cheeks. Bucky wandered out when they were looking at jackets for Wanda, but Nat wore a disgruntled expression as she switched from outfit to outfit.

“You two aren’t quiet,” Bucky said, pausing to glance at Natasha. “But you sound great.”

She smiled, and then held up a cinnamon roll. “Peace offering?”

“I don’t need a peace offering, Doll,” he said, his tone teasing but he dipped his head to take a bite before claiming the rest of it. “But I’ll definitely take it. Want more tea?”

“Second cup, I’m good for now. There’s still…” She twisted to look at the coffeemaker and the barest flicker of a wince drifted across her expression. “Yes, there’s still coffee. But we should probably start another pot.”

“I can do it,” Bucky told her, waving her back to her chair. His gaze went to Steve’s. _Everything all right?_

As it had been so far, he nodded once.

“I’m going to need to go out to find the jacket for Wanda. Maybe some boots.” She frowned, and then braced her chin against her hand.

“What is it?”

“I’ve been worried about the fact Wanda doesn’t wear her jewelry anymore…”

Wanda had been very fond of rings, bracelets, and necklaces. She had worn them, but since their return—Steve hadn’t seen them either. Then it hit him… “You were going to get her some, maybe see if she’d outgrown wanting to wear them or if something else was holding her back?”

A little nod. “Not sure I can do that anymore.” She made a face.

“Nat…”

“I know,” she said with a grimace. “I know it’s natural. I understand the physiological response to the psychological trigger. It will take time because I associate it all with pain.”

“But you have no patience for being hamstrung by it,” he finished for, and he could almost have wished his tone was dry but it wasn’t. If anything it came out more sympathetic.

“Then wear a ring,” Bucky suggested and it was Steve who turned to look at him. Bucky’s expression was neither sympathetic nor challenging.

“I… don’t usually wear them,” Natasha confessed. Was she seriously considering it? She tangled her fingers with the dog tags. “These… my arrow necklace.” Then she held up her hand with a nod to the bracelet. “That’s pretty much all the jewelry I wear.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. “Would you consider wearing a ring?”

A shiver went through her and she scowled.

“Angel…” Maybe he shouldn’t step into that moment, but that look said she’d do it just because she didn’t want to.

“I know,” she complained and the scowl on her face didn’t quite echo the near-whine in her voice. “You know the worst part is…I get it. I know.” She tapped her skull. “Yes, I’ll wear a ring.”

“Because you’re fearless, Natalia,” Bucky said. “You’d do it because it terrifies you, because you hate to feel that way and you will give no man that kind of power over you.”

“I won’t give it to a woman either, guys, so you can just keep those dirty thoughts to yourselves.” The dry remark did what nothing else could have; Steve leaned back in the chair and started laughing. It rumbled out of him and he pressed his hand to his forehead as he laughed.

The sound of Bucky’s chuckles joined his and then slowly, but genuinely, Natasha’s laughter peeled into the room. It was like breaking through a genuine wall of sorrow. Far from being giddy, it brought tears to his eyes even as the mirth dislodged the heavy weight he’d collected in the seconds, minutes, hours, and days of Natasha’s absence.

Missed opportunities. Too many.

Never again.

Even as he thought he’d gotten control of the laughter, he caught Natasha’s eye and they started laughing all over again. Bucky leaned against the counter, his chuckles deepening. They kept laughing, the three of them setting each other off until Natasha wiped tears from the corners of her eye and blew out a breath.

“Okay—I don’t think that should have been as funny as it was.”

“I think it was exactly as funny as it needed to be,” Steve told her, blowing her a kiss. Then she reached out and caught his hand and leaned over to kiss him for real. The scent of her so close was dizzying, but he kept himself steady. Answering her kiss with a gentle brush of his lips on hers. She stroked his cheek, then ran her nails lightly through his beard. “I know,” he murmured against her mouth. “I need to trim it.”

“I don’t care,” she admitted, tilting her head back but not taking her hand off of him. “It’s soft.”

Her curls were higher, she’d taken the length off and he knew the why of it. “May I?” he asked, motioning to her hair. Some of the heat in her eyes chilled and she scraped her teeth over her lower lip before she nodded. Gently, he slipped his fingers into her hair and combed through the curls, marveling at how they bounced up. “It reminds me of when I met you.”

“I kind of hate it,” she admitted.

“It’ll grow, Doll,” Bucky said, leaning against the counter. “You know—you should cut mine too. We’ll grow it out together.”

Jerk. Steve glared at him, not that he was really annoyed. But at the same time… “Fine, I’ll cut my hair, too.”

Natasha chuckled.

Bucky nodded sagely. “Yeah, that whole quarter of an inch isn’t gonna do much for you there, Punk.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Natasha said, gripping Steve’s hand. “And no one has to cut their hair for me. You’re both right. Mine will grow out again. Everything is just one step at a time.”

Steve lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. “You know there’s probably nothing we wouldn’t do for you, right?”

“Pretty sure you’ve made that clear,” she told him, but she loosened her grip on his hand and leaned back in the chair. Bucky filled his own coffee cup and then crossed over to fill Steve’s. “What do you guys want for Christmas?”

“I got what I want,” Steve told her in the same breath as Bucky said, “I have what I want.”

“Okay, besides _me_, what do you both want?” Then when neither of them answered, she made a face. “You’re not helping. I had a couple of ideas but now I don’t know.”

“Like what?” Steve asked, genuinely curious.

“Punk, you’re supposed to wait for the present to be wrapped and under the tree before you get to open it,” Bucky said, cuffing him lightly.

“We’re just talking,” Steve argued, thumping Bucky in return. His best friend grappled with him lightly and Natasha folded her arms.

“Maybe I should get you reinforced pillows for pillow wars.”

Steve glanced at Bucky and then they both looked at her. The amusement in her eyes and the faint smile still hovering on her lips coupled with the warm color in her cheeks relieved him on so many levels. “Only if you get one for you, too.”

Their pillow fight on his floor had done wonders for all of them. Pillow fights. Tickle wars. Throwing each other in the pool. They needed more of those moments. He eyed his living room for a moment—pillow fort. They hadn’t done that one in a while.

“What were you thinking, Angel?”

“You really want to know?” she asked, surprise in her eyes.

“Only if you want to tell us…I mean Tony already handed out gifts.” The moment the thought dawned, he sighed. Gifts he hadn’t really thought about because he’d lost far more than he received that night.

“He did,” Nat sighed, frowning at the holo screen. “I forgot about that—I mean I didn’t forget forget, but…”

“We get it,” Bucky told her, and he set his hand on the table, palm up near enough she could take it and she did. “He gave Stevie Mets tickets, three season passes.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Natasha said abruptly, her tone and expression lacking any real heat. “That was what I was thinking of…well, not three season passes, but one for each of you.”

“Oops,” Bucky said. “Well now you can go with us, that can be the present.”

“Hey, who said you were going?” Steve countered and Bucky just rolled his eyes. “I might have been taking Sam,” Steve continued only to be met by a pair of doubting gazes that just made him smile. They looked so much alike that moment.

“You can always take Sam and James,” Natasha suggested. “They at least will understand the game.”

“Doll, you spend all this time in the States, how do you not understand baseball? We even used to…” Then Bucky sobered abruptly.

“We used to watch the games when we were in Montana?” she suggested.

“Listened to them mostly,” Bucky said. “We couldn’t always get decent television reception. Radio was real good.”

“I listened to the games with you?” Genuine curiosity inhabited the question and Steve found himself leaning forward, intrigued by the answer.

“Yes, you asked me to explain it to you a couple of times. I don’t know if you really ever got it now—but you’d listen with me.”

“I’d go to a game with you now,” she promised him, but her gaze swept to include Steve. “I’ve just never been a fan of sports, I suppose. I’ll learn—at least enough to know whether I like it or not.”

“More history of baseball?” Steve teased her gently. The fact she’d watched that documentary at all had been adorable enough.

“Maybe,” she said, pulling her knee up and hugging it as she stared at the holoscreen. “So I’m back to the drawing board…”

“Well, whatever you get me or Buck,” Steve said. “We’re going to love it.”

“What do you want?” Bucky asked gently. “You’re asking about everyone else, what about you?”

“I want Mary,” Natasha said and the cheerfulness of the morning waned. “But I can’t have that so…” She swallowed, then rose and carried her cup to the sink where she rinsed it out before she stared the water going. “Wanting things is still not something I’m good at. Barely good at wanting people.”

Steve locked eyes with Bucky, his heart aching for them both. The pain in her eyes had reflected in the pain in his. “You know…” Steve said as the silence held for a long moment. “We’re going shopping... that’s still on our list, right?”

She glanced at them and then nodded slowly. “I had fun when we went to get the tree. I like buying gifts for others. Even when I don’t exactly know what to get yet… that’s why we shop, right? To see what we can see?”

“Exactly,” Bucky said slowly. “When we were kids, we would find one thing the other wanted really bad and do our best to get it.”

“I got Bucky a baseball glove,” Steve said, the memory surfacing like an old friend. “Scraped together all my pennies, but I found you a good one.”

His best friend chuckled. “You did…and I got you that yo-yo you had your eye on.”

With a blink, Steve lifted his coffee mug and then nearly set it down twice. “I’d forgotten that.”

“You loved it, learned to do all these tricks with it. Hell, you could throw it out and have it wind back to you better than any guy on the block.”

Natasha smiled. “So, like he can throw his shield?”

Buck’s eyes lit up.

“No,” Steve said. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“Aww, Stevie, it would be hilarious.”

“Yes and I’ll never hear the end of it. So no yo-yos with my shield painted on it.”

“Wouldn’t even be that hard to find,” Natasha suggested, the little traitor. “Friday, can you pull up all the Captain America stocking stuffers?”

Sure enough on page three.

Bucky chortled as he had Friday order them a dozen.

“I hate you,” Steve said without an ounce of sobriety, but Bucky wasn’t dissuaded. “Real food, Angel?”

She had another cinnamon roll in hand and a fresh mug of tea. “Only if you’re making some for you.”

He was hungry. Pancakes might be better than bacon or eggs, considering her reaction the day before.

The clock showed them closing in on five-thirty. Natasha followed his gaze. “I want to go running but my ribs are still sore.” The fact she’d admit it at all concerned him.

“How bad?” Bucky asked setting his empty mug aside.

“Not terribly,” she said, putting her mug on the counter, then lifting her tank top. Steve studied the bruises on her ribs. They were green and yellow, for the most part, but blue striped in a couple of places.

Rising, Bucky approached hands open. “May I?”

She lifted her arms and nodded. With care, Bucky probed the ribs. She grimaced twice, and then let out a hiss of breath.

“That one is definitely still fractured.” Bucky tested his hand down her side. “I hate to say it, I want to tape them.”

She tipped her head back. “Doctors don’t do that anymore…”

“She’s right,” Steve didn’t mean to snap, but it came out anyway and she glanced at him, but rather than startling her there was a challenge in those eyes daring him to keep going. “Taping the ribs makes it harder to breathe or so I was scolded quite vehemently after doing it to myself. They just need time. The sooner they’re better, the sooner you can get on with all the things you’re listing in your head right now—including kicking my ass.”

The fact she didn’t smile didn’t intimidate him. Nor when she set that stony look in his direction. If anything, it told him to keep going.

“Or am I wrong? You would prefer those take as long as possible to heal so you can milk our coddling for all we’re worth?” It was a risk.

Bucky shook his head, like bad idea, but Steve didn’t think so. If anything, Natasha’s nostrils flared and her eyebrows climbed a fraction.

“You don’t fool me, Rogers,” she countered. “You _like_ coddling me. Is this a little reverse psychology meant to encourage me into letting you carry me around?”

“Is it working?” He teased.

She smirked. “Not even. Though for that remark…” She stripped her tank top off and stood there bare-chested and bruised. “I know it’s not that hot to look at right now, but these breasts are not for you.”

He literally had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from guffawing, but Bucky didn’t even bother to pretend. He snickered like they were all twelve. Admittedly, if they were all twelve, Bucky would be a stammering jerk and Steve would probably have had an asthma attack.

“Keep laughing, James,” Natasha said. “They aren’t for you either.”

“No?” Bucky tsked. “Well, I shall woo them from afar.” Then the ass leaned forward and blew against one nipple that dimpled like a perfect little traitor and Steve started laughing again.

“Ow,” Natasha swore as she cracked up, then she smacked Bucky on the shoulder. “Ass.”

“All yours, Natalia, I assure you. Now keep _your_ gorgeous ass still, I’m going to get some liniment. Even without taping, it will help with the bruising and sore muscles.” He chuckled all the way to her room where they’d stored first aid supplies after she’d been shot.

Natasha glanced at Steve, amusement in her eyes. “Not bad, Rogers.”

“Liked that, did you?”

“Kicking my ass to take care of me? It’s a good look on you.”

“So is you biting me back if I go too far.” The balance between them was important. “I love you, Natasha Romanoff.”

“That’s cheating,” she stated.

“I love you more, Natalia Romanova,” Bucky declared as he sailed out the bedroom.

Steve snorted. “I love you most…”

“And I love her best…”

“And for some reason, I love both of you idiots.”

Yeah. They were going to be okay. Steve drained his coffee, then glanced at the holoscreen.

The best gift he could ever have stood right there in his kitchen. His Christmas was made.

Rising, he glanced at the clock again. Maybe they could skip the run today. “Pancakes? Then more online shopping? At least until the stores open?”

“What about running?”

“I got no place to run to Angel that isn’t right here.”

“Sap,” she said.

“Oh, I don’t know Romanoff…” He considered her as he pulled out the batter. “I think you took _all_ the _notes_ on going soft.”

Finding the drawer full of his notes had warmed him deeply. She treasured those little things—the pictures, the notes, the moments…

Oh. Now that would be a great present if he could make it work.

Shameless? Maybe. But he hadn’t lied when he told Natasha there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. It would just take a little ingenuity to pull it off.

**Bucky**

Natalia disappeared to take a shower after they’d eaten and while she hadn’t said anything, they left her to her privacy. Though she would loathe the description as fragile, she was in a fragile place even if she herself was not a fragile person. Steve had gone to take a shower in his room, but Bucky spent some time studying the items he’d narrowed on his list. It was down to four different rings.

The fact she reacted so badly to rings made him want to gut The Mandarin. He’d been looking at them since just before Thanksgiving. It had started on the island, but he’d shown Laura to get some feedback from her. The friendship between Clint’s wife and Natalia—on clear display during their island visit—suggested she might have some advice.

In his nineties and he’d never bought her a ring. Never taken her on a date or courted proper. Not even when they’d been free before, still too much Soldier and not enough Bucky. Though, if they hadn’t come for them, he would have found a way to propose. Somehow.

Now though, did he still plan on the ring and hope it didn’t pitch her into sweat-soaked nightmares or did he let it go? It wasn’t even a question he could ask Steve, because like Bucky, he was navigating these murky waters with all the care they’d show a live grenade.

Correction, with more care than they’d show a live grenade. Would Natalia recover? Absolutely. Had she chosen to forgive them for the mistakes they’d made leading up to the party? Yes. She loved them, she openly admitted it, but it didn’t change who she was—a fundamentally private woman who’d been through every circle of Hell.

“Sergeant Barnes?” Friday said quietly. “Do you mind if I make a suggestion?”

Curious, more than anything, Bucky nodded. The four images on his screen narrowed to two. Both sapphire rings, one with a beautiful princess cut surrounded by a constellation of diamonds set against a rose gold band. He had no idea why they called it rose gold—but it was pretty enough. The sapphire was fat, but also flat and circular. It reminded him of a shield in some ways. But the array of diamonds added the feeling of light. The first time he’d studied it, all he’d seen was the bright blue Montana skies. She’d been his light in the darkness and the ring took him to the first time they’d truly been free together.

The second ring, however, was a river of sapphires twining through a twist of black titanium, the dark, and the light, with diamonds arrayed on either side, though they weren’t quite clear, but more pale and milky. A pathway through the night. What he’d liked about it as opposed to the other was it was smoother, nothing on it to get snagged on something. If the ring caught on something it could leave her vulnerable and while he didn’t expect Natalia would choose to save her ring over herself, he never wanted to put her in that position.

One was a little brighter and louder, the other more subtle and contained.

But the brighter one seemed more a declaration…

_While this one is a promise, an oath, an understanding._

Between these two, there was no question.

A message popped up on his screen.

_You may not enjoy the company of Mr. Wilson, but he is very familiar with PTSD. If Natasha suffers from this with relation to rings and you wish to purchase this for her, then I would recommend possibly discussing with him what we can do to facilitate Natasha’s recovery. I have an array of files and methodologies at my disposal, but I am unclear in what order we should apply them as her psychological profile has never been easily categorized._

Bucky chuckled. “You got that right. Thank you for the suggestion.” Though discussing Natalia with anyone was not high on his list.

_You’re welcome, Sergeant Barnes. I want to help Natasha, as well._

Yes, Friday did. That was something beyond anything he could have imagined in the future. Not only having an actual artificial intelligence but one that seemed to have developed actual attachments and continued to grow and learn. Saving the image, he tabbed out of the screens and cleared the history.

Better to avoid tipping his hand particularly when it came to surprising Natalia. They’d ended up eating pancakes and bacon—and she’d eaten plenty and seemed to enjoy it—so he cleaned up before he went to grab his own shower. He had one other ace in his back pocket with the safe house. While he and Clint had both been rather focused elsewhere, he had a fair list. There were a couple of places that had come in on searches that he wanted to see again—including one that reminded him of a place Stevie had on his house-hunting list.

In the shower, he braced a hand on the wall and tipped his head forward to let the water wash over him. The bruising along her ribs _had_ improved. Her throat looked markedly better. Even her abused hands and feet showed severe improvement. The shadow of the bruise around her ankle remained, but it was only a shadow.

Two days. They’d had her back two days and she rallied, both mentally and physically despite the exhaustion, despite the visit from the witch doctor, and despite a very real aggravation with all of them for being overprotective.

The memory of her blank eyes when Maria and Nick arrived and the confession they’d put her through that memory machine over a dozen times and he had to brace his fists to keep from pounding them into the tile.

Breathing helped.

Focusing on what he could do helped.

But sometimes?

Sometimes, he and the Soldier were in lockstep. They knew how to destroy things and they were more than willing to tear shit up if it meant helping her. Only, they couldn’t help her that way so… he had to focus on how he could help.

She wanted to go shopping.

She craved normalcy.

When they’d come back from the run the day before, she’d been struggling but at the same time, she’d also seemed as relaxed as she could be while eating breakfast and hanging out with Tony and Clint. As the day progressed, she’d relaxed fully and gone to sleep while they watched the program she and Tony liked so much.

Bucky had to admit, even if the woman reminded him of Madame B, the show itself was nice. Simple. The bad guys really sucked at being bad guys and no one hurt the old broad. Steve’s surprise when he found out about the ritual had been entertaining, but it hadn’t slipped Bucky’s notice that Tony had been making even more efforts in their direction.

Efforts to include them.

Efforts to include himself.

After washing his hair and soaping down, he sighed and leaned against the tile.

_“Tony is explaining to me why we should be having all the sex with Natasha.”_

Tony had been doing a lot of things. When Bucky warned Natalia not to have an affair on the island, he’d meant it. No, Bucky probably wouldn’t have liked it. There were things about Tony Stark, things he could offer Natalia that neither Bucky or Steve would ever be capable of. It wasn’t just the money. It was the sharp wit, the intelligence, the eagerness to adapt to an ever-changing situation and the capability to challenge her intellectually. It was the part that Tony belonged to this time while him and Steve? They were still catching up.

_That_ was part of it.

There was also the fact that he was a dangerous man in his own right, he could create wonders with his technology. The dress and the armor had been a thing of beauty, elegant, sophisticated—and brutally suited to her ability to fight. Beyond all of that was Tony’s clear and open affection for her. His efforts to stay sober, even when he’d begun to fray in the wake of her kidnapping, he’d not gone for the alcohol even though he’d clearly wanted to.

No, Bucky wouldn’t have liked her dallying with him then, even if he would have understood it. He also meant it when he said he knew she’d come back. His feelings on it now weren’t quite so clear-cut. And Steve? Steve would have been hurt because he’d seen Tony as a real threat.

Or had.

Something else had shifted in the last several days and that couldn’t have been clearer than when Tony told them they needed to resume sexual relations with Natalia as soon as she could stand being touched. They were changing her, on a fundamental level, Bucky had been changing her for years or had until that last separation.

Now with Steve’s serum in the mix, the ideal one—the one Erskine had been striving to create when it came to their bastardized versions—Natalia was getting stronger, she could heal. Maybe even adapt to the point she could match Steve.

Bucky couldn’t argue against that. Not if it kept her alive and safe.

Not if it gave her back that which they’d taken from her.

Tony understood all of it and encouraged it, but because he wanted her healthier? Safer? Was it that altruistic? Or as selfish as Bucky’s own need to keep her happy and healthy and alive?

Probably both.

Steve hadn’t been offended. Even later, when Bucky had found him destroying bags in the gym, Steve had finally admitted that Tony loving her made sense and based on his behavior, he could understand if Natalia loved him, too. If that was the case, what the hell did that mean for all of them?

Not a question Bucky wanted to tackle, then or now. But it was one rapidly approaching critical mass. Tony Stark was in their lives and he wasn’t going anywhere. Natalia didn’t want him gone. It was part of why Bucky wanted to help him with his tree and he’d started to look after him. Because despite all of it, Bucky liked the son of a bitch. He was every bit as arrogant as Howard and had the same reputation for womanizing that Howard cultivated…

_Course, so did I._ Though he’d lacked their wealth and splashy show, Bucky had squired his fair share of dames and gotten under more than a few of their skirts. But despite that reputation, Bucky hadn’t seen any evidence of Tony wandering in the months since they’d been back. The closest might be his ex, but Pepper seemed to have moved on and Tony’s affection for her seemed a dim light when compared to the torch he carried for Natalia.

Shutting off the water, he snagged a towel and began the process of rubbing himself down. Tony had given Steve season passes to the Mets, three tickets, likely intending for them to take Natalia. It had been a thoughtful gift. For Bucky, he’d given him access to online courses in Engineering—updates, he’d call them. What had his note said?

_So imagine my surprise to find out you have a degree in Engineering. You’ve been holding out. Friday and I put together a series of online courses to bring you up to date. Don’t waste that education. Make it work for you._

It was a pass to the future, to understanding it and at the same time, to making use of skills he’d once found valuable but had been left to rust for decades. Despite everything, Tony had been clearing a path for Bucky to this time, to reclaiming his life, to building a life he could have had. It had come up briefly after Tony returned with the memory machine. Bucky had torn open the crate so they could inspect it, first to determine it was the actual device—a thing of nightmares—and that it wasn’t a Trojan horse hiding greater dangers.

Locked in a shielded laboratory with Friday monitoring it was a good first step. Tony had glanced at him and said, _“After Red makes the call, you and me, we’re tearing this apart.”_

Inclusion.

More, it would assure him on every level if he took the damn thing apart himself. Tony seemed to have understood it and with that understanding came acceptance.

The thoughts turned in sharp spirals as he dressed. They were planning to go out, so he armed up and elected to wear the armored shirts and slacks, then added a leather jacket to the mix. The weather meant he could put gloves on and he’d be able to hide the arm, draw less attention to them.

Steve attracted plenty and after the last few weeks, he would imagine Natalia would as well. In the living room, he found Natalia studying the tree. She’d dressed in dark leggings tucked into equally dark boots, a deep blue turtleneck with a black t-shirt over it. Her shorter curls were damp, but the signs of bruising on her face had all vanished—cosmetics. He leaned against the doorway and studied her profile as she gazed at the tree.

Her unguarded expression tugged at him. The vulnerability in how she stroked her finger against her lower lip. Her fixed gaze didn’t tell him what she precisely she focused on the tree, if she saw it all. The chain holding the dog tags was visible around the collar of the turtleneck, but the tags were probably hidden under the t-shirt. They were private; she didn’t share those outside of their small circle.

Just another layer of how she protected them. The bracelet on her left wrist caught some of the lights on the tree, but it too was mostly hidden under the cuff of her long sleeves.

Looking at her now, the casual observer would be unaware of what happened to her in the last few weeks. They would only see the drop-dead gorgeous woman who managed to look sexy no matter what she wore. His sigh betrayed him though her expression was neither startled nor annoyed when she glanced at him.

“You okay?” The quiet question also didn’t surprise him, she took his pulse often enough, checking in on him. Him and Steve regularly. She did the same for Tony and Clint. A measure of making sure there was nothing she had overlooked and while she seemed to think she lacked some skill in the relationship department, Bucky knew better. Natalia hurt. The memory of Mary Elizabeth she had reclaimed was both a gift and a curse.

He was about to answer when his gaze landed on her t-shirt.

_I have never faked a sarcasm. Ever. _

Laughter jerked out of him at an almost involuntary rate. It was damn near as funny as the virgin one she’d worn.

A flash of a true smile lit up her face as he continued to chuckle. “I’m much better now.”

Steve had yet to join them, but he might have gotten a call or needed to check in with the team. They had plenty of time. It wasn’t even seven-thirty yet.

“Yeah?” She tilted her head.

“Yeah.” He straightened, the desire to hug her invading every muscle but he kept his distance. It was what she’d asked for and what she needed. He had decades of keeping his needs in a bottle while being in her orbit. They both did. The ability to curl into each other had always been a luxury. Being close to her was more than enough. “You have an idea of where you want to go?”

“Some of the clothing stores,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe something trendier, electronics…little bit of everything. Maybe just look at a store and if it looks interesting, dive in.”

“You want to go hunting.” He made it to the back of the sofa and placed his hands on it as he studied her.

“Maybe.” Though the corner of her mouth curved a little higher. “I think I just want to be… out.”

Not hiding. Not bound by doors or locked away. He’d gotten that way in Bucharest. He’d walked for hours, wander aimlessly, just because he could. Emotionally he got it, but from a security standpoint it was a bad idea.

Steve appeared in the doorway, his expression stern but it relaxed the minute he focused on Nat. Bucky raised his eyebrows, had something come up? But Steve only shook his head. Not now. Fine, they’d discuss whatever it was later.

“Hunting, huh?” Steve asked. “Are we staying in Manhattan or did you want to head out to Brooklyn or Queens?”

“Manhattan first…though there was that little shop out on 29 as you head toward the Compound.”

Bucky didn’t know it, but Steve apparently did. “Then we need to take a car.”

A chime sounded overhead. “Excuse me, Natasha…” Friday didn’t usually interrupt, though she’d been chatting with them on and off that morning, maybe Natalia hadn’t put her back into voice-activated mode.

“Yes, Friday?”

“I’ve called for a car and a driver. It will allow you to be more flexible in your choices—for example, if you chose to walk along 5th Avenue, it could pick you up at the end of the block. You won’t have to find a place to secure the vehicle or worry about interference. The car is certified under Stark Tech and fully armored. The driver has passed all certifications and background checks—you would call him Happy’s version of paranoid approval.”

Natalia chuckled.

“The vehicle also gives you opportunities to go farther afield if you wish and I can keep close track in the event a call to assemble is sent.” What she didn’t add was if Steve and he got called away, Natalia would be secure and they wouldn’t have to get her back before they went.

Clever.

Natalia shook her head slightly, then glanced from him to Steve. The lack of expression on Steve’s face was a dead giveaway. It might not have been his idea, but he wholeheartedly supported it and he didn’t want to force the issue where Natalia was concerned.

“You’re adorable,” she said. “Both of you and as for you, Friday…” She glanced at the ceiling. “I will allow this for a few days, but to be clear. I am _allowing_ you to all be overprotective in some areas. This is a reasonable compromise. So I accept.”

“Thank you, Natasha. Also, Boss said if you would all like to meet for lunch somewhere, he can arrange privacy as well.”

Of course, he did. Bucky bit back a smirk. At least he wasn’t inviting himself along on the shopping trip.

But Bucky could hardly fault Tony the need to be close to her.

“If we’re still out at lunch, maybe?” Natalia glanced at them again. “I still need a debriefing on the last few days and you’ve all been very circumspect on filling me in. Oh… Friday, can you see if you can trace my phone and if not, order me a new one so I can set it up?”

“I will take care of it, Natasha.”

“I’m going to ask this once,” Steve said, focusing on Natalia. “You can be irked with me, but I’m asking anyway. Your ribs are still sore, you’re still recovering, and I know you’ve got a lot on your mind. Are you sure you’re okay with going out there with the crowds? Chances are, you might get jostled.”

Not if Bucky had anything to say about it, but he saw Steve’s point. Natalia did as well, no doubt, but her chin lifted and Bucky recognized that stubborn will. It was what had kept her alive in the Red Room, the same indomitable spirit that had her lie to Karpov’s face and twist their orders to allow them time together. It was how she’d survived that hell and come out the far side.

It was how she’d gotten them out that first time. How she’d gotten out the second.

With a chuckle, Steve shook his head. Maybe he recognized it, too. “You know…forget I asked. I know you. Even if you are worried, you’re going to do it anyway.”

“If I need extraction, I’ll ask for Soldat,” she murmured. “Or say we need to catch the train.”

The code phrases they’d worked out.

“But for now,” she continued. “We can plan a movie night later. I need to get outside. I need to breathe. I need…”

“You need to be alive and back in the world.” The whole idea resonated with Bucky. “You’re armed?”

The bland look she shot him made him smile. Of course she was.

“Steve?”

“Yeah I have it, I’d rather have the shield, but that will get us noticed.”

“Take it to the car,” Natalia suggested and Bucky nodded. “Then we have it close and you’ll need it if the call to assemble comes. Before you ask…” She held up a hand. “I’m not up for a mission yet.”

The fact Steve dropped his chin and eyed her with a small, almost adoring smile made Bucky shake his head. She had their number and wasn’t afraid to tweak them both with it.

“Done.”

Ten minutes later, they took the elevator down to the garage level. Natalia had a hat in hand, but she hadn’t wanted to put it over her damp hair yet. She’d also pulled on a calf-length coat. The heavy material was likely similar to the bullet-resistant items he and Steve both wore.

Bucky took the first step out the doors with Steve at his back. Any other time, it would have been Steve first, then Natalia with Bucky bringing up the rear. He covered her back and he didn’t let anyone save Natalia stand at his—though Bucky and the Soldier had come to a grudging agreement where Steve was concerned. But this wasn’t about Bucky’s hangups or Steve’s, it was about what Natalia needed.

The garage was cold and quiet, the wintry air invading despite the sealed doors and the presence of heaters that kept it _above_ freezing, but not exactly worn.

An oversized SUV that reminded Bucky of a tank was indeed waiting for them. Steve went to meet the driver but Natalia’s attention wandered from them to the row of cars.

“It’s here…” She murmured and then strode away. Throwing a glance to Steve, Bucky followed her but he ranged out to the side to stay in her periphery. Steve twisted and then an open grin settled in place. Okay, the car Natalia approached, a black Corvette. Running her gloved hand lightly over the car, she paused at the driver’s side door and pulled it open.

“I presume this is yours, Doll?”

“Yeah, I asked Tony about her—you know before. I left it here before I went to Geneva.” Before everything went down. “I thought the authorities might have taken her but Tony put her in storage somewhere else so they couldn’t.”

She sat down in the driver’s seat and grinned. The first real, true grin he’d seen in a while. If they could user her car for the shopping trip, he’d totally get in the passenger seat, but not only would all three of them be a tight fit, he didn’t think it was reinforced.

Petting the steering wheel, she glanced out as Steve came to stand next to him. “We’re ready when you are.”

With a laugh, she eyed him. “Shopping first, then debrief and probably need to look at training and I need to corner Tony on the Accords, then I’m taking this baby out for a spin…not today,” she said as almost a promise as she eased out carefully. The motion told Bucky all he needed to know about the soreness of her ribs. “But soon.”

Then a fresh smile crossed her face and she looked truly delighted about something.

Steve leaned toward him, half-turning as if to return to the other vehicle and pitched his voice low. “Does that look worry you as much as me?”

“More,” Bucky responded, smoothing his expression when Natalia narrowed her eyes at them. He knew that look.

He hadn’t seen it in a long time, but he knew it.

Whatever idea just occurred to her? She’d already decided on doing and there wouldn’t be a conversation.

The last time he’d seen it, there had been a lot of explosions.

“C’mon, Doll,” he said, then gave Steve a pat on the shoulder. “I believe you want to go spend a lot of money.”

“Yes,” she said, closing the door and giving her car a last pat. “I do.”

“Reckless capitalism,” he teased.

Her answering smile was worth it. “Wasteful indulgence.”

Steve snorted. “Thoughtful enthusiasm you pair of former Soviets, get in the car.”

Avoiding the driver, Natalia slid into the seat right behind him and Bucky motioned Steve to take the seat next to her while he slid into the front passenger seat. Steve and his shield could get Natalia out of the car more efficiently.

He’d already seen them do that once.

In the front, Bucky was closer to dealing with the driver and taking over the wheel.

“Where to first, Doll?”


	7. Stress/Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping, strolling, lunching, fighting, and debriefing...

**Chapter Seven**

**Stress/Shopping**

**Natasha**

Leaving the Tower just before eight in the morning had been a good idea. While traffic had increased in the city with so many hurrying to work, the stores weren’t exactly packed. Many opened early with it only being a week until Christmas. Low crowds, however, didn’t mean lack of. Fifth Avenue offered a wide variety of options, but she had them head west toward Gramercy Park and Chelsea first. It had started snowing and there were piles of it on the sidewalks and along the street. The plows had been out and the shops had cleared the streets, but having a driver would definitely make it easy.

Their first stop, a charming little shop called Reminiscence. James and Steve gave it a curious look as she led the way inside, she stuffed her hat into the pocket of her jacket. She only needed it if they were going to be out in the wind for too long. The storeowner was literally unlocking the doors when she walked up. The vintage shop offered far more than clothing, it had games, record players, vinyl…

Steve let out a breath. She knew he’d spotted that corner and the look he cast her made her grin a little wider. “This is where you found them.”

“Maybe,” she dragged out the word and made a shooing motion. “Go explore.” Then turned herself to walk along the wall with vintage women’s clothes. A lot of the styles housed her were things she’d worn. The shop was on her list to find things for Peter and Wanda. A vintage jacket, for example, might be something Wanda would enjoy especially if Natasha could find one in her favorite color of scarlet or crimson.

This wasn’t the only vintage shop in New York and she’d explore some of the higher end stores, too. A pair of boots caught her eye and she shifted to check them out. They knee high, but they were supple leather and cut well, there was red and black pattern along the side, subtle but definitely there. The laces were thick and the original leather. Even the scent on them said pure leather.

Not practical for battle, though Natasha wagered she could fight in them. The style was classic and it had drifted through the decades resurging from time to time. These particular boots were also huge on the Renfaire circuits. Hmm… maybe they had men’s sizes and she could get a pair for Doctor Strange. They definitely seemed his type.

Still, she checked the size on these. They were a bit of a luxury and they’d need to be cared for, but Wanda might get a kick out of them. She groaned at her own pun. James drifted along behind her, just—looking—but not getting too far. The effort he put into keeping it casual was sweet and she had to hide a smile as she picked up the boots.

The size was Wanda’s. A little too large for Natasha, but they’d definitely fit her. For a moment, she debated the impulse. Then said fuck it. It wasn’t like she couldn’t afford it. Oh. Speaking of which.

She pivoted. “James, can I borrow your phone?”

He handed it over immediately and held out his hand for the boots. “Want me to carry those?”

“Thank you,” she said surrendering them. Steve lifted up a record that said Benny Goodman and Natasha rolled her eyes. “You need to go help him look at records or we’re going to be swimming in big band for the next month.”

“I like big bands, Doll,” James told her without an ounce of shame. “But I can go look for others if you’re in the mood for something different.”

“See if they have some Queen or Led Zeppelin or anything after the 70s…” She paused on the phrase, then focused on him. “See if they have anything we listened to in Montana?”

With a steady gaze, he studied her for a long moment. “Stay away from the front windows?”

Compromise offered.

“I can do that.” Compromise accepted.

Holding onto her boots, he nodded and headed over to join Steve. Blowing out a breath, she stared at the phone then dialed Isaiah’s number from memory. He had several, but three of them had been virtual locks that he would answer. Those were the numbers he tried not to replace if he didn’t have to, so she used them only sparingly.

“Yes?” The careful tone and neutral greeting was a standard response to an unknown number.

“Sorry for the surprise, Isaiah,” she said by way of greeting.

“Still haven’t found your phone?” The sarcasm translated even if his tone warmed by several degrees.

“Working on it,” she told him as she continued to browse her way down the wall. A couple of jackets caught her eye and she studied them even as she caught the shopkeeper splitting her attention between herself and Steve. They were probably going to be recognized in five…

“Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I’m shopping today. I’m going to be hitting my charge accounts.”

“Okay, we talking supplies? Weapons? Backup equipment?”

“Christmas shopping.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Seriously?

Four…

“Hmm-hmm.”

The shopkeeper stole a surreptitious glance at her own phone, then studied Steve’s profile intently.

Three…

Natasha glanced over and caught James’ eye then nodded once to the shopkeeper. He had the boots over his arm and an LP case in his hand. He nodded, shifting to give himself a better sightline.

“Well, I’m sure we can afford a couple of hundred.”

“I’m thinking a few thousand.”

“Okay—“

“I want to also look at ordering three custom motorcycles.”

“Okay, that’s more like it…send me the specs and I’ll get it done.”

“You do know you’re my favorite, right?” She lifted the black jacket off the rack and turned it. The inside was a stunning red. There were small incisions that would let the red peek out of the front. Very 80s. Very nice.

The shopkeeper gripped her phone and squared her shoulders.

Two…

“I do know I am. All right, I’ll free up some funds and keep an eye on the incoming charges in case the bank faints that you decided to spend something after literally _nothing_ in weeks.”

“I know, spend all the money you complain. Spend no money, you complain.”

“That’s me, I complain. Set aside time after the new year, we have housekeeping to do.”

“And taxes,” she said almost mournfully as she checked the price tag on the jacket. Not bad, not quite what she was looking for, but it might look good in her own closet. “One sec, Isaiah.”

One…

“Excuse me,” Natasha said to the shopkeeper, stopping her dead in her tracks as she’d taken one step toward Steve. “Do you have more in this style with different colors?”

The almost mournful look on her face would have been funny, but Natasha held out the jacket and the woman gave her a quick smile. “I’ll have to check.”

“I’d appreciate it.” She met her gaze evenly. Recognition kicked in three seconds later. The woman paled a fraction, then steadied herself with a nod.

“I’ll get right on that.”

Natasha nodded, as Isaiah said, “Don’t scare the store employees This isn’t _Pretty Woman_ you don’t need to intimidate them.”

She snorted. “You’re no fun.”

“Uh huh. Go spend your money, you have a lot more of it. Did you know you just scored a huge finder’s fee?”

“I did what now?”

“A finder’s fee. Remember the job you took last year for MI6?”

Vaguely. She’d been asked about possible covert Russian operatives in Great Britain. They’d been very circumspect in the request. She’d done some deep background work. It had gone nowhere, or so she’d thought. Though she had discovered Lily Masters, a British subject turned Soviet asset. The ninety-four year old great-grandmother had retired and spent most of her time on her rose garden though Natasha recalled interacting with her over the course of decades. It had been the only name she withheld.

Even though she could probably face serious charges of treason and spend the few short years she had left in prison, there was no point. Most of her crimes had been done in the name of love for a husband dedicated to the cause and because society didn’t think her capable. More, she hadn’t turned over a single piece of actionable intel in forty years.

It was over.

Let that sleeping dog lie.

“How many?”

The shopkeeper had stepped out of the back to call one of her other employees, and Natasha checked on Steve and James before she made her way toward the vintage equipment, including older cameras. There was a stylized one with the huge flash she hadn’t seen in years. It made her think of Peter. Maybe she could get him a couple of different kinds for fun.

Kids used the cameras on their phones these days, but still…

“A dozen.”

The number made her blink. “Seriously?”

“You did exemplary work, you found the handler.”

Natasha stilled, her attention on a series of Polaroid cameras. They were a trip back through time, but the one on the end held her riveted even as she turned Isaiah’s comment over in her head. Robert Michaelson. The name, his dossier, and everything about him leapt up at her. She’d spent a day following him while also tracking down a lead on James for Steve. It had been a juggling act, because Tony had also been in London that day and he’d pestered her to come have drinks at the Savoy.

“Okay.” The case hadn’t been a high priority for her; she’d take it as a favor to Gerald though he’d only asked through a friend for a friend. “Well, I guess I have some shopping to do—buy yourself something nice for the holiday?”

“I already did. I really appreciate it, I needed some new tailored suits.”

She laughed. “I’m glad. I’ll talk to you soon.” Ending the call, she kept staring at the camera. Lifting it off the shelf, she studied it while curling her hand around James’ phone.

“I have the same jacket with a blue liner,” the shopkeeper told her, but Natasha only half-heard her.

“Thank you,” she said absently. “I appreciate you looking.” The camera seemed familiar and she both wanted it and wanted to leave it there in the same breath. James had said they’d purchased a Polaroid when they’d been at Niagara Falls.

“Can I help you find anything else?”

On impulse, she glanced at the two older cameras then the Polaroid. “I’ll take all three of these, if you could box these other two up. I want to carry this one.”

“Of course,” the woman said, surprise in her voice though she made no move toward the cameras. No, of course not, Natasha was standing there. She backed up a pace to give her room and then turned. James made a great show of _not_ staring at her but she wasn’t fooled.

Shifting gears, Natasha smiled at them. “You guys close to being done?”

“I don’t know that I’m ever going to be done,” Steve admitted. “They have a lot in here.”

Migrating toward them, she kept track of the shopkeeper moving in her wake. “Well, technically you’re not supposed to buy anything for yourself for Christmas.” Technically, because really, what did she know about Christmas?

Steve looked so forlorn for a moment, Natasha had to bite back a smile.

“Can I see what you found?” She tucked the Polaroid under her arm and held out her hands. James hid a smirk as Steve glanced at the—what had to be eight or nine—records in his stack and the easily four or five more sitting atop the box he’d been perusing.

With a sigh, Steve extended them. “I can always come back.”

“Uh huh,” she assured him, then paged through his choices. Bing Crosby. Benny Goodman. Nat King Cole. Andrews Sisters. Frank Sinatra. Billy Joel. In the stack in front of him was Queen. Elton John. The Righteous Brothers. Marvin Gaye. “Are you still looking?” She stacked all fifteen together and took possession like they were supposed to be hers.

James held out four other albums—AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, Blue Oyster Cult, and Robert Flack. Definitely an eclectic mix. Extending her arms forward, she eyed him and he slid the albums on top of the ones she’d already picked. Steve frowned, glanced at the records, then her stack and back again.

“I can come back,” he repeated.

“Go on,” James encouraged him. “You know you want to get it.”

Steve scowled, briefly, then pulled out the Lena Horne and held it up. That was a classic.

“Well no doubt,” she assured him and he added it to her stack before lifting it from her. She caught the shopkeeper gawking a second as she glanced from Natasha to Steve then back again. “Yes,” Natasha answered her unspoken request. “All of these and the boots.”

Together, they carried everything to the register. It ran a tidy sum and when she extended her credit card, the woman said, “I almost feel guilty charging any of you.”

“Don’t, ma’am,” Steve said easily. “You have a lovely shop.” His gaze had slid to a jacket on the back wall. It was brown leather and looked buttery soft, reminded Natasha of flight jackets.

Only half-listening to the shopkeeper as she got Steve to give her an autograph, Natasha signed the credit receipt. When all the items, including the Polaroid had been bagged, James took charge of one sack and handed the other to Steve. “Doll?”

“Call the car? I want to check one last thing?” The request seemed to do enough, because James glanced from her to the wall then back. Yes, he knew exactly what she was doing.

He hustled Steve out front and Natasha turned to the shopkeeper. “Brown bomber on the wall?” She glanced at it, then moved as the front door bells rang. There were a couple of other customers, but they hadn’t noticed her or Steve yet. As if aware of the importance, the shopkeeper snagged the long black leather duster Natasha had admired earlier and covered the bomber as she returned with it. The registered angled away from the windows. The bomber was as smooth as it looked, the size was right. The duster was close to perfect, too.

“I’ll take both,” she told her. After boxing them, she slid the boxes into the bag so they weren’t visible then rang her up. She also added a twenty percent discount. At Natasha’s raised browsed, the shopkeeper said, “First time I made a sale to an Avenger, ma’am. It’s for Captain America…”

Natasha laughed.

“Yes it is.”

She signed the receipt, and then gathered the bag.

“Thanks for shopping with us!”

Still grinning, she carried her purchases out. The SUV was just pulling up as she exited and James claimed her bag from her with a knowing look.

“Hush,” she told him and Steve chuckled. Yes, buying it had hardly been her most subtle play. Who cared?

Once they had their purchases loaded and climbed into the car, James glanced back at her. “Where to next?”

“Oh. I have a few ideas.”

~~~

Macy’s had been a zoo. She’d managed an hour before she was ready to throw in the towel. Still, she’d found a perfect jacket for Wanda along with a couple of dresses that would look stunning on her along with some bracelets and a half-dozen rings. Even picking those out had made her want to throw up. Steve and James had helped, but in the end, Natasha had to stop at six and just call it good.

James had been giving her distance until she’d made it to the jewelry cases. But by then they’d begun to garner some notice from the other shoppers. Natasha had already posed for a couple of pictures that hopefully didn’t look like she was standing in front of a firing squad. Steve had taken on an enthusiastic group of moms—cheerfully doing a selfie with each one until they were able to extract. James, however, had grown impatient with the lot of them.

Earlier, he’d asked her if she would wear a ring. Aversion therapy at its finest, but staring at the jewelry cases—even at the rings that looked _nothing_ like The Mandarin’s, all she got were flashes of how they’d light up on his hands one moment and seconds later, pain would light her up.

“Want me to pick one, Doll?” James had asked quietly when she drummed her fingers against the counter.

“Maybe,” she admitted. “Maybe not right now.” The clerk brought her the bag with the jewelry boxed and hidden. James took the bag and then offered her a hand. With eleven floors, Macy’s had a little bit of everything, but she was ready to leave. Go somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

James had nicked away once to buy something and Steve had been less subtle than she had been at the vintage shop. The number of shoppers, however, increased and she was more than ready to extract and move on to a fresh location. Steve had moved away, likely to draw some of the attention off so James sent him a message.

On the street, she inhaled the cold crisp air tinged with car exhaust and the hint of perfume from those passing on the streets. Natasha tugged her hat on because the day had grown colder or maybe she was just getting wearier. They had added to their collection of bags. James nodded away from the entrance toward one of the big windows, it pulled them away from the foot traffic and helped abate some of the wind.

“Stevie’s on his way and so is Austin.” The driver was Austin.

Natasha nodded, glancing at the display in the window. It was a huge train winding through snowy mountains and hills where Christmas villages decorated the landscape. They probably should have chosen somewhere else to stand, Steve had glared at the display on their way in but James only shrugged.

They were all a mess of triggers.

“It’s almost lunch,” James said, his position putting him between her and the people passing by yet not boxing her in. She had to admit, he had a talent. “Did you want to call Tony and meet him somewhere?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “I think I’d rather eat back at the Tower.” Then she sighed, “Now ask me what I should do versus what I want to do.”

A smile touched the corners of his lips. “Natalia… you don’t have to do anything.”

“Yes, I do.” Because negotiating the Accords meant wading through a sea of press closing in on her. Negotiating the Accords meant facing off against potential threats in diplomatic situations where all the doors and windows were closed. Fighting alongside the Avengers meant trusting them to catch her, which meant letting them touch her.

They didn’t have time for this.

“You are a stubborn woman.”

“And water is wet,” she retorted, earning a smirk.

The traffic on the street crawled along. Their driver would probably need a minute. Maybe they should…

“Mademoiselle…”

Oh there was a voice she didn’t want to hear. Schooling her features, she shifted her weight and faced the French delegate to the committee. “Monsieur Devereux.”

“_C'est un plaisir de vous voir._” He narrowed the distance between them almost immediately. She couldn’t say it was a pleasure to see him.

Like her, James shifted his weight in preparation because the delegate was not alone. Security accompanied him and the two men moving in his wake were both well-armed and well-trained. But Devereux already had his hand out to take hers. Thankfully, she’d already pulled on her gloves. Sniper breathing and discipline pulled it together for her as she let him lift her hand to kiss her knuckles.

“_Mademoiselle Romanova, tu es belle comme toujours. Puis-je vous appeler encore Natalia?” _There he went being familiar again. Natasha removed her hand without yanking it away and merely stared at the delegate.

_“Non.”_ The simple answer earned her a bark of too bright laughter and he moved to throw his arm around her. It took everything she had not to break his arm.

_“Tu es magnifique. Que dois-je faire pour mériter l'honneur de ton nom?”_ All charm and wit even as he gave her shoulder a squeeze. The man had two hundred and six bones in his body. She could break about fifty of them in short order. The other hundred and fifty-six wouldn’t take long.

“You could begin by releasing me,” Natasha informed him cooly and he withdrew the arm as if she’d stung him. A faint flush touched his cheeks and if she insulted him, too fucking bad.

The delegate smoothed a hand through his hair then glanced at James. A momentary puzzlement creased his features and then he tensed. The smile James sported was not friendly in the slightest. He’d caught Devereux’s discomfort and appreciated it. “You are Sergeant Barnes,” Devereux said, fumbling a moment.

“He is,” Steve answered before either she or James could. The two bodyguards fell back as Steve moved around them. “We’re also running late…” He eyed the man.

“Adrien Devereux,” Natasha clarified having described her meeting with him. “The French delegate to the Committee.” Irritating as he may be, he was also an ally.

“Captain Rogers,” Devereux’s entire attitude shifted, his shoulders went back and his chin rose. He extended his hand. “It is an honor to meet you in person, Captain. I’m afraid we have not had a chance to be formally introduced before.”

Steve gripped his hand once and based on Devereux’s wince, it wasn’t a friendly squeeze. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Monsieur. Thank you for your support on the Committee. As much as I would like to chat with you, I’m afraid we have previous engagement.”

Austin chose that moment to arrive and Natasha caught Adrien’s speculative gaze going from her to Steve then to James and back. “Perhaps another time, Mademoiselle.”

“Perhaps,” she said noncommittally. “_Joyeuses fêtes.__”_

Steve shifted to keep Adrien from touching her again even as she turned away. It put Steve at her back, but James moved alongside her, also between she and the French, he opened the backdoor for her and she climbed inside. Only after the door closed did Steve nod to the delegate again before he carried his bags to the car, he and James both stored the bags in the back before taking their places, but James stared at Devereux who stared at their vehicle.

Once Steve was inside, James slid into place. “Let’s go,” he told Austin, then turned his attention beyond the window. Devereux had a phone out. Chances were, they’d be hearing from the Committee in no time.

“Steve, you should text Sharon if she’s still in town.”

With a sigh, he glanced over his shoulder then at her. “Yeah, you okay? He was…”

“Lucky he still has his hands,” James stated.

“He’s French,” she reminded them. “He thinks flirting with me is how gets what he wants. It’s also why I’m the one out there, so they will dance the dance.” She waved a hand dismissing it. The French delegate might be a nuisance, but so far his public displays and work behind the scenes seemed to have been on their side. Or at least it had been before. She really needed the debrief.

“Where to, Angel?” Steve’s hand twitched twice, as if he lifted it to reach out then set it back against his lap.

“Where did Tony want to have lunch?”

“Natalia,” James sighed, impatience creasing his voice. “You do not have anything to prove.”

“I know,” she murmured. She really did know. “But I’m going to do it anyway. Besides, I think lunch and then back to the Tower, we have work to do.”

Steve scowled at her and Natasha grinned. It took a lot to truly earn that look as his brows gathered in a stern frown. A mild sense of glee unfolded within her. It had been a while since she’d pushed him that far.

“You know, I can’t help but think this is payback for before…” He muttered.

Then, because it was and wasn’t, she slipped her gloved hand over his and gave it a squeeze. “Just remember—you like me exactly how I am.”

With a snort, he stroked his thumb over her gloved hand. “Yes, I do. Even when you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“Pot.” She nodded at him, then pointed to James. “Kettle.”

They both chuckled.

“I’m going to be fine. The shopping was great and I appreciated it. I think lunch could be nice…” And give her a chance to get some answers. “Then back to work, because the kids will be here soon and the world didn’t stop spinning.” Even if she had been tapped out.

James held up his phone. “Russian Tea Room.” The dry as the desert tone made her laugh. Because of course, where else would Tony take them out to lunch? “You still want to go?”

“You’ll love their borscht,” she assured him and leaned forward to touch his shoulder. The contact was light, but she snared a smile with it.

“Nobody loves borscht,” James countered and she grinned wider, before leaning back in the seat. She kept holding Steve’s hand and she studied the world outside the window, the hustle of the shoppers, the snow on the sidewalks, the chapped cheeks on faces, and the decorations filling the windows. Christmas was relentless in his invasion and subsequent takeover of the city.

Inside the stores there had been music and the offer of holiday treats and hot beverages. It was all a show of glitz and glitter and warm fuzzies that Natasha was determined to embrace. Their first Christmas was not going to be spoiled and if that meant facing every person in the city, shaking hands and whatever else, then she sure as hell would do that.

When Steve released her hand to pull out his phone, she left it on his thigh. Touching them wasn’t painful, even if she couldn’t shake the skate of Devereux’s arm around her shoulders off. Compartmentalizing it, she put it away. A necessary evil for the Accords, to be dealt with then dismissed.

At Natasha’s glance, Steve held his phone closer to show the text message with Sharon and a quick update on running into Devereux.

**Sharon**: _Is Natasha all right?_

The immediate response warmed Natasha. She and Sharon were hardly friends but it was the thoughtful move to make and based on what Peter had told her, Sharon had played a big role in gathering forensics. The fact there didn’t seem to be shock at her reappearance, then she’d likely also covered with the Committee and the media.

_She’s Natasha, _was Steve’s response.

“Hey,” Natasha murmured.

“Well you are,” he teased.

**Sharon:** _Tell her we’re thinking of her and let me know when would be good to swing by. I figured she might need rest._

More thoughtfulness.

_Soon, by the weekend would be my guess. When do you leave for the holidays?_

The conversation went back to business and Natasha resumed watching the city pass by. They’d be at the tearoom soon. She’d put on another pretty mask and make the most of it. Fake it until she made it.

~~~

Despite only being a few blocks, it still took Austin twenty minutes to crawl down Fifth Avenue. She’d eaten at The Russian Tea room before. In fact, she’d eaten there during one of her first assignments in New York City, she’d been undercover as a ballerina with the Bolshoi and it had been the place where many artists and entertainers dined. Fitting, she supposed since former members of the Russian Imperial Ballet founded it.

Austin drew to a stop before the red canopy declaring the Tea Room, and James was out first, then opening her door. Sliding out, she glanced back to see Steve send one last message before he exited and slid his phone into his pocket. A doorman opened the door to let them in, but he wasn’t the only security, in fact there were a half dozen placed in strategic areas along the walk and a line of people waiting to go inside but they were waved in.

Three steps inside the opulently appointed restaurant, she knew why. Tony spread his arms as he stood up from a table near the center of the room. “Friends, Russians, Countrymen…”

With a groan, she rolled her eyes, “You rented the whole place?”

Clint snorted, he was already ensconced in a seat, one leg up on a chair looking perfectly at ease—and vastly underdressed for the tearoom. Though to be fair, most of them were except for Tony, but he’d shed his jacket and tie.

“I absolutely booked the whole place, it’s ours for the next ninety minutes.” She unbuttoned her coat and James took it as she slipped out of it, and rather than pass it to a waitress who offered, she motioned to the chairs. The last time she’d eaten here had been—before the Battle of New York. Maybe even before she’d gone to evaluate Tony.

It had been a while.

Tony pulled out a chair for her, next to his, and directly across from Clint. The rectangular table would put Steve or James next to her and the other either across the table next to Clint or at the end directly opposite Tony. Steve and James moved smoothing with James circling to take the chair across from Steve’s as Steve sat next to her.

“You doing all right?” Clint asked.

Natasha shrugged. “I didn’t shoot anyone.”

“That’s a good sign. Now how about garrote? Stab? Or just simply kick in the head?”

She mimed considering it as Tony resumed his own seat. He nodded to a waitress who carried over fresh glasses and poured water as a second served a pot of tea, a carafe of coffee and then a third set a flight of vodka in front of Natasha.

Frowning, she glanced up and motioned to the flight. The fact the waitress came at her from Tony’s side and did not reach from behind her was well thought. The additional support of Steve putting his arm along the back of her chair and that James and Clint could literally see anyone approaching from behind her helped, too. Dead center in the restaurant wasn’t the most tactical, but they had a 360 view and weren’t near any of the windows to the outside, so she’d take what she could get.

“This is lovely, but no thank you.” The vodka actually looked fantastic and she was tempted to knock them back but Tony wasn’t drinking.

“Red,” Tony said, hands steepled together. “It’s fine and of all the people at this table you deserve a drink. Have the flight, it doesn’t bother me.”

“You shouldn’t torture yourself.”

“Not the worst thing I’ve ever tortured myself with,” he countered and she frowned at him. “Be a good Russian and have your vodka.”

Smirking, she picked up the first shot then tossed it back, draining all two ounces before turning it upside down and setting it back on the table. “You’re an ass.”

“I am,” he said agreeably. “Glad you noticed. Love the shirt.”

Steve glanced up at the calm-eyed waitress who hovered, waiting for them to make an order. “Can you give us a minute?” Fortunately, the staff here was used to waiting on celebrities. Five Avengers wasn’t that shocking and Tony had been a celebrity a lot longer than the rest of them. Well…maybe not longer than Steve, but definitely for more years.

The vodka hit the spot, though she’d need significantly more than four two ounce shots to make a dent.

“You sure you’re doing okay, Kid?” Clint nudged her leg with his foot and she flipped him off.

“Keep asking me that question.”

He snickered and some of the tension coiling through her since the jewelry counter eased. “Someone has to and I’m the one least afraid of you at the table.”

“I’m not afraid of her,” Tony said, scowling. “Healthy survival instincts are not the same as fear.”

James snorted and Steve let out a heavy sigh before he took a long drink of the water. “Somehow, I have a feeling it’s a good thing Tony rented the place out.”

“Of course it is,” Tony said undiplomatically. “It was my idea.” That sparked another round of laughter. It took them a minute to decide, but they finally got their order in and Natasha knocked back the second of her shots.

“Shopping go okay?”

Natasha said, “Guys, the shopping was fine, it was crowded, we found some stuff and we ran into Devereux outside of Macy’s. Beyond that, not much to debrief. Am I still freaking out about being touched? Somewhat. Do I prefer to keep anyone away from my back? Definitely. It’s going to take time. What I’d like is a debrief of the last ten—wait is it eleven days?”

Steve shifted next to her and then took a sip of his coffee as Clint studied her, whatever he looked for he must have found when she met his gaze because he nodded, but Tony seemed to be glancing from Steve to James and then finally to her.

“Can it wait until we’re back at the Tower?” The quiet question wasn’t unreasonable.

Meeting his gaze steadily, she asked, “Are you going to find another way to blow it off when we get there?” Because they had the day before and she’d let them.

“No,” Steve said firmly. “You still need rest, but you’re right, you do need to be briefed and we’ll take care of it.”

“What he said,” Tony tacked on, a hint of relief in his voice. Yeah, the shifting dynamic between the guys was definitely setting off quiet alarms—not upsetting but the changing landscape defied expectations. In a good way, at least based on what she’d seen so far. “Besides,” he continued. “We have other plans to make.”

The other plans, as it turned out, were holiday plans. Sam and Sharon would both be heading off to see their families. They would be leaving by the weekend so it would probably be good to either invite them to the Tower or head out to see them.

“And do we want a meeting before everyone scatters?” Tony asked.

“I vote no,” Clint said before cutting into his steak. “Not that anyone asked me.”

Natasha had ordered the grilled salmon and James had picked out the beef stroganoff while Steve and Tony had both ordered steaks. They were all cutting into their food, but she focused on Clint even as James leaned back in his chair. “Why no meeting?”

“Because it turns into a debrief for you,” Clint said flatly. “Then it turns into you having to deal with sympathy and you are not a fan.”

Biting her lip, she had to hold back a chuckle. “Feelings aren’t going to bite me.”

“Says you,” Clint grumped.

“Nice reverse psychology, going to have to play it with less of a heavy hand next time.”

A gleam of amusement filled his eyes as he winked at her. “Just saying.”

Steve reached across the table and speared a forkful of James’ beef and noodles, then ate the bite. “That’s not bad.”

“I vote against the meeting just because we have enough work and not enough reports on what we have going,” Tony jumped in, and then he stuck his fork into her salmon and carved off a piece to eat along with one of the grilled vegetables. She raised her eyebrows and he shrugged. “You’re not eating it. It’s not poisoned. See? I have no resistance. If it was, I’d be croaked on the floor right now.”

When he extended his fork again, her knife hit the table right in front of him and he retracted the fork swiftly.

“And on that note, you can starve.”

James actually broke the following silence with a laugh. “Want my stroganoff, Doll?”

“My salmon is fine, thank you very much.” But even as she gave Tony a look, she took a bite of her salmon. It actually did taste wonderful. “Thank you, but don’t do it again.”

He met her gaze levelly. “Deal with it.” Then he toasted her with his water and took and drink. Leaning her head back, she considered where she could stab him that it wouldn’t do much damage.

Not that she really wanted to stab him.

She could.

“Changing the subject,” Clint said. “Steve? Meeting?”

“No, I need to go over mission reports… then get mine done. All of you need to do yours, too.”

“Get right on that, Cap,” she said, keeping her tone flippant and light. “We can fill them out like mad libs.”

“Sold,” Clint fistbumped her and Steve groaned.

“You two never used to be this much of an issue.”

“Actually,” Natasha said. “We did, you just didn’t notice it as much because we used to be subtle.”

“No,” Tony said. “You were subtle, he wasn’t.”

“Hey,” Clint said. “I can be subtle.”

“Can and are are two different things,” James added.

And around they went. Each time it seemed to get serious, Clint teased her with a joke or lampooned Tony or Steve. James escaped most of them, but it kept it lighter. By her fourth and final shot of vodka and following her meal, she had relaxed. Most of the morning’s tension had bled away.

Being handled was weird. Clint had done it for years—usually with a foam-wrapped baseball bat, the combination of stern understanding and no bullshit worked for them. But Steve, Tony, and James all approached it differently—like renting out a whole restaurant, actively teasing her as Steve had been doing or indulging her to a point as James had.

Really, the best part was none of them even tried to pretend they weren’t doing it. Backing off if she got prickly, but otherwise…

It was nice.

They did come to some decisions about the holidays. Clint would be getting Laura and the kids Thursday after school, Friday they would have a family dinner at the Compound—especially since they had Avengers who were heading out. The weekend would likely include shopping trips and Tony offered to set up the skating rink again.

Training sessions came up but Steve wanted those on an as needed basis. Wanda and Peter needed training, but Natasha could supervise. She didn’t argue at the moment. One day at a time, one step at a time.

Christmas actually fell mid-week and the Bartons always had a huge meal Christmas Day after they opened presents in the morning, then they spent the afternoon putting things together, playing board games, and watching movies.

“We’re spending Christmas Eve and at least a couple of the hours of the morning at the Tower,” Natasha said when James and Steve said nothing. Clint narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t look at me like that. Christmas Eve should be you, Laura and the kids. Besides, if I’m there, they’ll ignore you.”

He made a face. “You do remember I’m Dad, right?”

“Yes, but I’m Auntie Nat and I’m Lila’s favorite.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he snickered.

“Yeah yeah… fine, don’t be too late. The kids will want you there to open some presents.”

“Then let’s set it up that they get some they can open in your suite,” Tony suggested. “Then we have more at the big tree in the Common Room that we all open when everyone gets there. Two Christmases.”

There was more about the food and figuring out the meal. Clint said Laura had already volunteered to cook and Wanda wanted to help. Steve suggested they all kick in, there were too many people for any one person to do all the heavy lifting. Tony would cater it in a heartbeat, but even James shot that idea down.

“Do we know if Peter’s aunt has to work?” She was a nurse and seemed to work most holidays.

“We can find out,” Tony said. “But if she doesn’t then he’s probably going to spend Christmas with her.”

“That’s fine. She’s his family.” They probably had their own rituals. All families did—even her family, even if they were creating their own.

Finally, their ninety minutes was up and they gathered their things. She slid on her coat and Tony motioned to her shirt. “That goes on the favorites list.”

Chuckling, Natasha slid into her coat. “Back to the Tower?”

Would they blow off the debrief? If they did, she was just going to check in with Friday and review the last several days. She might do it anyway.

“Yeah, back to the Tower,” Tony answered after Steve nodded.

Catching James’ eye, she raised her eyebrow then glanced from Steve to Tony and back again. James shook his head. So either he didn’t know or he wasn’t telling.

Clint smirked at her and she rolled her eyes. They weren’t even subtle with how fast they flipped each other off.

Men.

It was good to be home.

~~~

Tony and Clint rode back to the Tower in a different vehicle, which was fine. Steve, however, was quiet and even when they made it back to the garage, he didn’t say anything as they unloaded the packages. Natasha took some of the presents to her floor and stored them in her closet before joining them to go take the rest to Steve’s.

When he said nothing before disappearing into his room as she stripped off her coat, she looked at James. “Did I misstep on something?”

“No, Doll. That’s Steve pulling back on his temper,” he told her as he followed her into her room to hang up her coat. “He wants you to take it easy and you’re not going to let us do that so he’s biting his tongue.”

“I have been taking it easy,” she pointed out and then tugged the chain out from under the t-shirt to hang in the front. She still had on her boots, but since they were back she debated on slipping them off. As long as she was in socks, most of her remaining bruising remained hidden.

“No,” James told her, arms folded as he leaned against the wall. “You haven’t. You’ve been cooking, pushing yourself even when you were nauseated. You’re trying to entertain and you went off to look after Peter because he needed your advice—the Vulture right?”

“And if I did?” Oh, if they were looking for a fight. She could handle that. “I promised to train Peter.”

“Natalia, this isn’t about promises or friendships or caring. You are very fond of that boy. Fuck, I’m fond of the punk. I’ve been the one making sure he kept his shit together when you were gone just like Steve kept Tony together. We had to keep each other from flying off the handle and you’re pretending like nothing happened…”

“What do you want me to do, James? Cry?” The words fired like bullets. “Should I curl up into a fetal ball and wail? Or should I give you chapter and verse every fucking thing I felt while that happened? Or maybe you’d like to go over why the fuck I couldn’t get myself out of it? Maybe we should start there and detail what did I do wrong.”

“I don’t expect you to do anything but put yourself last. It’s what you always do.” The verbal slap landed. “You demand everything of yourself and you’re still…”

“Healing. Yes, I am and apparently I’ve been healing for sixty-eight years. It’s hardly anything new.”

His eyes were cool and nothing in his expression shifted as he met her stare for glare. “No, because you don’t change. You were trained from the day you could walk that failure and weakness are absolutely unacceptable. That attachment is to be avoided at all costs. That nothing—absolute nothing is more important than the mission.”

“Thank you for that summation. Like I don’t remember it—trust me of all the pieces of my faulty memory, those are still _very_ clear. Every. Damn. Moment.” From the cold metal tables to the icy poison in her veins to the brutality of fighting to survive. The only ally she’d ever had was herself.

“And it was all bullshit…”

“Says the boy who grew up with a family and people who loved him; who had a life and friends and all the women he loved before a war tore through his life.”

“I know that,” he growled out the words and pushed away from the door. Frustration vibrated off of him. “I know you were never allowed that. Don’t you think that guts me to think of what it had to be like for you as a child.”

“Then don’t,” she ordered. “I survived. I’m right here.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He clenched his fists then released them as he paced away. “This—this Natalia is what is so frustrating. You’re allowed your feelings…”

“No, I’m not.” The moment she said it, they echoed through the room and he spun around to stare at her just as the door to the bedroom pushed in to reveal Steve standing there. His stormy expression went from her to James then back again. “I’m not allowed my feelings. Not by you or Steve or Tony or even Clint. Because I’m not feeling what you seem to want me to feel. You want me to get it out, to react, to talk to you. If I don’t, you want me to dial it back, stay safe, and let you take care of me. Maybe I don’t want that. Maybe…” She fixed on Steve’s expression as he folded his arms.

“Go ahead and finish,” he said, his tone steady but the set to his jaw said they were far from done. “What is it that we want you to do, Natasha. I think we both need to hear it.”

“You want me to lean on you.”

“Yes,” Steve said slowly. “Even if it’s the last thing on Earth you want or are willing to do unless you’re so devastated you can’t function. You have been very clear on that front, Nat. You take care of us, not the other way around. You take care of the team. Of Tony. Of Clint and his family. Hell you look after your friends and contacts and your clients. But when it’s you… you just go back to work and pretend like it didn’t happen. You fake it until you can make it.”

“Compartmentalize,” James said quietly. “Until you have separated out every emotion that makes you vulnerable… then you can get back into the fight.”

Every emotion… that made her vulnerable?

“Natalia…” James spread his hands. “You’re safe here. Be angry. Throw things if you have to. Freeze us out and say nothing. It won’t change a damn thing. You’re not chasing me off that easily.”

“Nor me,” Steve said flatly. “I don’t like what you’re doing. But I also recognize your right to do it. You…” He took a long breath and then blew it out. “You were up in that room with Pepper…isolated…and you stayed there because of the choices the rest of us made. Because we kept putting you in a corner. You… were right to come out swinging. But the hell you went through… I know you felt alone. You weren’t.”

“You suffered Natalia, we know. Every ugly moment and there’s not a person on this team or in this room that didn’t suffer because _you_ suffered. I want to take that bastard apart. Every time you shift away…because I know what those drugs he pumped you full of had to feel like when he…” A muscle ticked in his jaw.

“When he put his hands on you,” Steve finished. “You who hate it when strangers touch you had to endure it over and over. Nat… I’m not _mad_ at you. I’m angry… because I want to make you feel safe and right now we can’t do that. Not me, not Buck, not Clint and not Tony. That’s all we want.”

James thrust a hand through his hair and then stripped off his jacket and tossed it on the bed. “What do you want Natalia?”

Everything she could never have. “I don’t know. What about you?”

“I want you,” James said bluntly. “I don’t give a damn about the rest.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “We shouldn’t be fighting.”

“No,” Natasha said slowly. “We should.”

Surprise filled his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Punk is the one who picks the fights,” James said flatly. “You’re usually the one who defuses them.”

“So?” She shrugged. “I don’t want you to tap dance around me. I am pretending, I’m really good at it and I have to right now. Because if I don’t I am going to be screaming. In two days—the kids are going to be here and they want hugs and to climb all over me and to play and I can’t flip the fuck out if they’re doing it.”

“Nat you won’t—not with the kids…”

“Steve, I do love you, but please try to remember that I have killed kids.”

Dead silence greeted that statement.

“I know you don’t often want to think about the uglier side of my nature, but it’s there and it happened.”

“In the past,” Steve said slowly. “Would you kill a child to finish a mission now?” His expression hardened and he narrowed the distance between them, not quite looming over her but unmistakably in her space. “Would you take the shot or let them die because they were in the way?”

She glared at him. “No.”

“Then for the love of God stop reminding me of what you _did_ in the past. When you had no choices and the only people giving you any kind of support were monsters and bastards who loaded you like a weapon and unleashed in you in a general direction.” He reached for her and then clenched his hands before he took a step back. “Angel… if you’d fought them, if you’d refused… they would have killed you. When you did resist them and fight them, when you clawed pieces of yourself, they took you apart again. At some point, you have to recognize that you weren’t the monster.”

“That’s easy to say…”

“No,” Steve said, almost vibrating as he half stormed in a circle away then twisted to face her. “It’s not. I hate everything that ever happened to you. To him. To the people who tried to strip Bucky of his humanity and who… God Nat, you’re a fucking miracle. You grew up in what is arguably a House of Horrors, treated as less than human, subjected to the worst of the world and at every turn you were… cut off, hurt, abused, and tortured. Even when you got out, it happened again. But you’re—you’re Auntie Nat. You’re Tony’s Red. You’re Clint’s _best friend_, Wanda’s teacher, Peter’s mentor, Vision’s guide, Sam’s drinking buddy—”

She snorted. “Sam can’t drink.”

“That’s why you’re his buddy,” Steve said drily. “You look after him. You took care of Banner. Of me. You protected Tony. You protected the team. You helped save Bucky over and over—you saved me. Angel—you’re _not_ a monster.”

It was her turn to blow out a breath. “I can’t be a victim, Steve.” She licked her lips. “Not of the Red Room or Hydra—or Nick or the Mandarin. I can’t be a victim. When I went back—when I left Mary and I went back for James, I made a choice.” That much was absolutely clear to her. “They didn’t force me. Would they have given up? Probably not. Could I have brought myself to kill James if I couldn’t get through to him?” She met his gaze and James’ expression gentled. “I don’t know—if it had been between him and Mary?”

James nodded slowly. He understood. But she would never have allowed it to be a choice between them. It was why she had to get Mary away, as much to save Mary as to save James.

“But I’m not a victim. I refuse to be one. I earned my title. I became the Black Widow. I chose to be Natalia. I chose to give up that name and become Natasha. I—I say when. It has to be my choice. So many times now I thought I got rid of the leash and I find it again. I love you.” She exhaled with the words then looked to James. “I love you both and I’m fighting with everything I am to be who I need to be. I won’t be a victim.”

“You’re not a victim, Doll,” James told her firmly. “But you’re not alone either. We’re doing our best here.”

She knew that.

“Nat—it kills me that we can’t fix this,” Steve admitted. “Bucky’s right, we’re doing our best. I’m going to keep doing it. Don’t… don’t give up on us.”

She frowned. “Who said I was giving up on you?”

“You’re pretty pissed.”

With a shrug, she canted her head to the side. “I didn’t used to get angry, not easily. It betrays emotional investment…”

“… that can bite you in the ass,” Steve finished. “Sorry, Angel. Love isn’t always easy.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth,” James said dropping to sit on the bed.

“I won’t give up on you…” she told them. “Don’t give up on me?”

“Not a chance,” James said in the same breath Steve said, “I’d never give up on you.”

The anger deflated and left her sagging. “Now we need to go debrief.”

Steve snorted. “I blame you for that.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I blame me, too.” But she needed to know. Eleven days was a long time. “I need to know.”

He held out his hand. “Can I hug you?” James perked up at the request and she just walked straight forward, shuttling all other thoughts aside until she pressed against Steve and then closed her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him. He closed his on her and then James was there, bracketing her back.

“You know what I don’t get,” she said quietly.

“What?” James asked, the comforting weight of him just there even as Steve pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“When did I become the one who picked fights?”

“It was bound to happen, Doll,” James said seriously. “You spend way too much time with the punk.”

“Hey,” Steve grumbled with no heat and the light jostling that accompanied him smacking James. “You started your fair share.”

“No I finished them.”

Their bickering was so—normal. A laugh escaped her, a little huff of it. Then another, until the huffs turned into chuckles. The laughter helped break up some of the jagged bits grinding against each other. Rubbing her cheek against Steve’s shirt, she tried to quell the laughter but it kept bubbling up. They could fight like normal people, yell at tear at each other and once it was out—they were better.

When she began to pull away, they let her go. She moved to the bathroom and checked. The cosmetics had held even after rubbing her face on Steve.

“We’re doing the debrief upstairs, right?” She exhaled another breath aware the guys were watching her.

“Yep,” Steve answered.

“Can’t wait,” James added.

She stole a look at them. “Chances are I’m going to do this again.” Caring—it was hard.

“Told you once, Doll, and I’ll keep telling you. I can take it. Not going anywhere—probably going to be me tearing at you, too.”

“Or me,” Steve said. “I’m always up for a good fight.”

She smiled. “Normal is weird.”

“Agreed,” they said almost vehemently and in the same breath. A little steadier and more than a little weary, they headed for the elevator. The ride up was quiet, but the tension seemed to be absent. Or at least, muted. When the doors opened, Tony spun around to face them.

“Finally! Red, you can settle this for us…”

Clint groaned, one hand over his face.

Eyebrows raised, she follow Steve and James out of the elevator. “Settle what?”

“Do girls really like to be fingered?” The blunt question was so Tony, she almost laughed aloud. Clint threw his head back and stared at the ceiling muttering something about putting a hole or fifteen in Tony.

James shook his head and Steve actually glanced at her, a faint smile on his lips. Curious was he? Or amused by how she would answer? Maybe a little bit of both.

Natasha shrugged. “That depends on whether you know the difference between summoning a genie or stuffing a chicken.”

“Ha!” Tony said as he whirled around and pointed at Clint. “It’s all in the style.”

Normalcy came in all shapes and sizes, Tony’s happy smirk definitely fell into that category.

“Well get in here. So we can make this all about me and I can tell you how fabulous I was in the hunt to find you.”

“How fabulous you were?” Steve snorted.

“Don’t worry, Cap,” Tony told him. “I’m going to give you at least twelve percent of the credit.”

Natasha laughed softly and shook her head as Steve just folded his arms and said, “This I have to hear.”

Not perfect.

Not by a longshot.

But when she met Clint’s gaze, she smiled and he nodded slowly.

They didn’t have to be perfect.

None of them.


	8. Stained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has some experience with post-captivity trauma, as much as he wishes neither of them did.

**Chapter Eight**

**Stained**

**Tony**

Leaning back in the seat, Tony hooked his hands behind his head and stared at the schematic. He had most of the kinks out and it was a better use of his time than dreams of seeing Natasha die over and over. He was definitely over that particular theme. Drowning. Stabbing. Choking. Suffocation. Drugged.

The loop of the videos coupled with his imagination created a haunted sleep. Normally, he’d get up and drink until he could sleep again. The dreams hadn’t been this bad in nearly a year. Well… not entirely. The last few months the dreams had lessened, but since the party, they’d returned with a vengeance and seemed even worse after finding her.

So, rather than stew or go in search of the vodka he would bet she had stored on her floor, he planted himself in the lab. Since bringing her home, he’d found a way to improve the self-driving car’s engine, developed a backup for the GPS during satellite issues including electrical storms and found a way to shield the main hard drive with the master switch to eliminate the danger of a hacker sending the car off a cliff.

The manual override was always an option, a master kill switch the driver could hit to return the car to manual control. But there were still a few issues and he’d promised Pepper he’d have this for her by the first of the year. The problem was that hackers were clever, the system needed to be adaptable in order to fend off attacks. Too adaptable though and some clever bastard might find a way to repurpose the AI.

Lots of little…

“Boss,” Friday stated. “Natasha has requested access to the sealed laboratory with the memory machine.”

Tony swiveled to glance at the clock. It was four in the morning. He’d been up for a couple of hours and her getting up early wasn’t unusual. “Put me through to her…” he gave it a beat. “Hey Red, what’s up? I mean besides you?”

He swiped the holo screen to switch to external cameras, Natasha stood outside the lab, dressed in loose pajama bottoms, a tank top and what looked like his gray hoodie. From this angle, the faded bruising around her neck remained visible. It still looked like some evil necklace despite the fact the skin had healed.

“Apparently you’re up,” she said, the husky rasp of her voice washing over him.

“No, I’m just a Life Model Decoy here to brighten your morning. You might want to reroute to a different floor, that one doesn’t promise much more than bad dreams and indigestion.”

A smile teased across her lips. “I know. But I need to see it. Is that going to be a problem?”

Crap. He pushed the chair back. “Do you mind some company?”

“I don’t know. How much company can a Life Model Decoy be?”

Snorting, he raked his hands through his hair before he drained the last of his coffee and headed for the door. “You’d be surprised. Though the coding doesn’t promise you an exact duplicate no matter what they say.”

“Huh.” Amusement curled through the single syllable. “I think I’d prefer the real thing if it’s all the same to you.”

“Coming right up, give me a minute.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” The sigh at the end drowned out the humor and Tony frowned. He glanced back at the screen. Whether she was aware of the surveillance or not, she just stared at the closed door but her gaze seemed a thousand miles away. That had happened several times over the last couple of days, she checked out then surged back in. There were moments of startling humor where the warmth in her eyes crystalized and others where she seemed like a virtual stranger.

Adaptation took time as he well remembered, but she danced on the edge of a knife and sooner or later, she was going to slip. They just had to be there when it happened. He motioned a slicing motion against his throat with his hand.

“Muted, Boss,” Friday murmured.

“Where’s Steve and Bucky?”

“I believe they’re still asleep, Boss. Or at least on their floor. They didn’t join Natasha in the elevator and she hasn’t lifted sleep mode.”

“If they ask, let them know where we are…” He hesitated. Should he alert them or Clint now? Or just go and join her and hope for the best?

“Boss?”

“Nothing.” He moved it, jogging up the steps to let himself out of the private lab. “Save those files on the car Baby Girl and let’s look at putting a prototype together. There’s something I’m missing and I want to give this a test run.”

“On it, Boss.”

Three minutes later, the elevator doors opened to the unused lab on 40th floor where he’d stored the device. Heavily shielded in a room that blocked network signals, he wanted to keep anyone from using it as a Trojan horse. He and Friday had been over it once, but until he took the whole thing apart he wanted to take no risks.

Natasha leaned against the wall next to the sealed lab doors. Her feet were bare and her curls obscured half her face until she straightened and pushed them back. “Up early or haven’t been to bed yet?” The familiar scold warmed him, but he understood her bid for normalcy.

It was near impossible to find in the beginning, but he’d meet her halfway.

“Up early, surprisingly enough. Open her up, Friday.” The doors unlocked and rolled open. The lights came on in the lab, though it had equipment, the tables were empty it awaited whoever would repurpose it. When he enlisted Bucky to take this thing apart, they were going to need to bring in some tools for the project.

For now, the oblong device sat amidst the remains of ripped open wooden crate. Seven feet long, the bed was cool glass with the head including another foot of machinery including what looked like a saw and enough singular metal picks and needles to make his skin crawl.

Natasha’s expression vanished as she stared at it. Arms at her side, she approached it at a slow walk as if half-expecting it to turn on. They hadn’t attached it to a power source, but it might have a power cell. To be honest, he hadn’t done more than make sure it wasn't a bomb and it didn't have a transmitter.

Sliding his hands into his pockets, he kept his distance but not too far. If anything happened, he wanted to be there. She wrapped her hands around the dog tags she wore, like they were a talisman, as she stared at the device.

“I remember it,” she said slowly. “And I don’t at the same time.”

“Don’t push it,” he suggested, but he kept his tone a suggestion rather than an order. “I know you want all the answers…”

“I do, but,” she said, twisting to look at him. Her eyes had that distance in them again and he fisted his hands in his pockets. “When Pierce had me programmed to go after you.”

Fuck he hated that word. Programmed. Biting his tongue hurt, but he kept the rant in check. Natasha didn’t need him ranting.

“I walked right in there, it was a job, I was escorting the secretary, I had no reason to not follow his orders. Clint and I had just finished a mission—I was tired and I was kind of looking forward to seeing Maria. I’d have a couple of days to myself, a weekend with Maria, then back to work.” The rush of words was so not Natasha. The raw vulnerability was a side he'd seen, here and there, but usually much more guarded than this. But she shoved the sentences out like she lanced a wound. “Sounded great—but when the secretary asks you for something, you do it. I got in that car, then in the elevator…”

“Red…” The fact her voice had gone distant, like she discussed someone else concerned him.

“It’s—fine. Weirdly, as bad as that memory is, it’s like it doesn’t touch me.”

“Are you sure about that?” From where he stood, it definitely seemed to be affecting her.

She placed her hand on the table and the machine lit up.

“Friday…”

“Internal battery source, Boss. I can try to jam it.”

“It’s fine,” Natasha said, her hand still on the surface but her gaze on the metal barbs and tools. “I have no intentions of lying on it.”

His heart wasn’t fond of the fact she even thought she needed to tell him that. “Okay, then what are we doing?”

“Remembering…walking through the pieces I remember. In the elevator he had some kind of device.” She waved a hand at the back of her neck. “It was like this high-pitched sound, it immobilized me.”

Nausea swam through him. “I know what you’re talking about.”

She turned a single glance to him. For that moment while looking into her eyes he read the understanding. She knew. He’d made that damn thing. There was no blame or recrimination. Except…

“Anyway, I couldn’t move and when the doors opened there were technicians waiting. I had enough awareness to know I needed to fight, but I couldn't move. I tried to catalog everything, work even one muscle free. But nothing... Then they carried me over and lay me on something just like this—we don’t have the other one yet?”

“No,” he said quietly. “Maria is working on getting me the location and the security specs.”

Curiosity reflected in her expression. “Maria is helping you?”

Him. Helping him. Not that he owed Maria a damn thing, but he said, “I think she took your challenge to heart. It seems she’s picked our side—or yours at least.”

Natasha smirked. “Are you sure about that?”

“Nope,” he said with a shrug. “But I’ll let her spin and see what happens. Don’t worry, you never have to see her if you don’t want to.”

She answered his shrug with one of her own. “Sooner or later, Maria and I will need to have a conversation. She apparently knows things about me that I didn’t—I don’t. I’m not fond of that.”

Couldn’t fault her there. “When you’re ready. Not before.”

A nod. “Anyway—they put me on this and I’m not sure if the machine did it or if someone else did it but there was excruciating pain…like someone made an incision.” She drew a finger across her forehead. The calmness in her voice unnerved him. “There was a bone saw involved. Have you been able to hack into this thing’s hard drive?”

“Haven’t tried yet. And before you ask—I was going to get Bucky involved with me on it. He’ll feel better if he knows it’s disassembled and what it did.”

“Oh.” A faint smile. “You’re being really thoughtful about him.”

“I can be a thoughtful guy.”

Another smile. “Yes, I know, but it wasn’t that long ago you couldn’t stand to be around him.”

She wasn’t wrong. “Things change. He’s not a bad guy. He just had a really shitty time in life.”

“Thank you, Tony.”

“I didn’t do it for you, Red…”

At her raised eyebrows, he shrugged.

“Fine, I didn’t do it all for you. I tried because of you. I gave him a chance. The rest is all him. He can be bossy though, like you. You’re prettier. Told him that.”

Glancing back at the machine, she sighed. “Do you think this alien tech?”

“God, I hope not,” Tony admitted. “Chitauri weapons. Alien spears with the ability to do mind control. Skiffs and engines designed for flight.” He almost said rings but edited those out. “Sentient sludge that needs radiation to grab a ride on a cosmic cube that offered enough trouble the first time we dealt with it. Yeah, I’d be content knowing this wasn’t alien.”

“I kind of hope it is.”

That surprised him. “Why?”

“Because I knew the men who designed the chair. Thoughtless, brilliant, dangerous men who… didn’t care what harm their wonder wrought on others.”

“Sometimes we don’t think, we just wonder and then we do,” he answered.

“Tony…”

“No, I was like those guys. I made plenty of horrible things. It was never about hurting people.” People like her. Like Bucky. That sonic device had been on the chair in Moscow. A tool they’d supposedly scrapped because it could only be used for horrific purposes and Obadiah had apparently given it to Hydra.

Great.

Facing him again, she folded her arms. “But those men never saw the humanity on the other side of the equation. You do.”

“Now,” he admitted. “Before Afghanistan?” The doubt cresting in him knew the answer. “No, I was just a rich jerk, spoiled, with a chip on my shoulder and I did what I wanted when I wanted with who I wanted. It was always about me. My pleasure. My entertainment. My puzzles. I was a jackass. A jackass went into the cave. I’m the guy who came out and it still took me a while to get here.”

“You know, I’ve been around a long time,” she exhaled the words. “Change like you’ve accomplished, it’s rare. It takes a certain amount of self-awareness, a certain amount of willpower…”

“It requires the support of good friends and a reason to make that commitment.” He got it. “When you left the KGB… what did you want to do?”

Arms folded, she walked away from the device and the machine powered down. The dryness in his mouth eased and he tracked her as she crossed to one of the empty counters.

“I wanted… to be free. To never have to follow another order.” She frowned. “The weird part…I know in pieces of what happened before I left. The inciting incident.”

“When they put Bucky and you back in the chair?” He’d heard some of it. Put together the rest.

She nodded, then turned to lean against the counter. “Ivan buried a command in me… he told me to leave if they ever took James from me. I don’t know how they found out about James and I that last time…obviously, it wasn’t the first time. We’d run away before and we’d been recaptured, James first and then me.”

The frown she wore it tugged at him. He just wanted to smooth away all the rough patches.

“Anyway, I went back—they wiped me, I went back to work and eventually we were partnered again. I don't remember those parts, James does. Apparently, our handlers or whatever iteration of them remained then embraced the definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. But somewhere in ’84, Leonid found out.”

Thankfully, that bastard was dead.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “In Azzano, they dragged us in there. James was out of it, drugged heavily and they’d given me something. Enough to slow my reactions. They put him in the chair and forced me to watch.” Scratching her cheek, she shook her head. “After, they put him in tube—they wanted me to know that I would never see him again. For Leonid it was a huge show—he wanted me to suffer and know exactly what I lost. I fought. I killed two of the soldiers and I tried to get to James—but he stared right through me. Then I was in the chair and they stripped that Natalia away again.”

A thousand miles away, her pupils looked huge against the sliver of green he could barely make out. Easing his phone out, he checked the screen. He should have brought his glasses down. Friday offered no alarms, so he kept his attention on her.

“The thing is I don’t remember what happened after… I mean not exactly after. I had to have been wiped. The next thing I remember, I was in Moscow. When I defected, I left from Moscow, took a train Munich after several changes then into France and down to Spain. I crossed to Morocco and vanished.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “There are a lot of pieces missing.”

Another nod. “I don’t think I realized just how much of it was gone you know until I started remembering—and then there’s that.” She motioned to the table. “I left Moscow, the KGB, Hydra, the Red Room, I left it all. Sure, I was a freelancer who killed people for a living. I had to eat. But I avoided connections; I didn’t want to be close to people. A part of me grieved and I didn’t even understand that was what it was.”

Yet, she forged connections. Logan and Remy were just two he could think of. But he left that alone for now. “Until the night Clint came for you.”

She lifted her shoulders and turned those tortured eyes on him. “If you’d asked me then, what I wanted was to die. True freedom. No more pain. Now…”

“Now you want yourself. You want all the pieces. You need to know.”

For a split second her eyes turned glassy, then she scrubbed her wrists over her face using the cuffs of the hoodie to swipe away any evidence of tears. “Actually, what I want is a big bottle of vodka and to keep it coming.”

“Been there.” God had he been there. “I can offer you coffee. Or tea… or the stuff to make hot cocoa.”

Natasha snorted, then licked her lips as she shook her head. “I almost wish we were still those 2 A.M. drunks. Almost.”

“Yeah?” He lifted his brows then turned, offering her his arm. She stared at him for a beat, and then moved to slide her arm through his. The contact was light, but she let him lead her away from the machine and to the elevator.

“Yeah. We might have been a pair of miserable bastards, but we could definitely pass the time.”

He snorted. “Friday, seal the lab.”

The doors closed behind them as the elevator slid open.

“Where to?” He glanced at Natasha.

“You got the stuff for hot cocoa?”

“I do.”

“Then to the penthouse.”

“You heard the lady, Baby Girl.”

Natasha didn’t let him go, but she didn’t lean in either. Tony let her set the pace. When the elevator let them out at the penthouse, he led her to the kitchen and when she loosened her grip, he drew back. He went to the fridge and pulled out the milk, then opened the cupboard to pull down the chocolate.

“There are fewer bars,” she murmured.

“Steve and I tried to make your cocoa one night. He wanted me to sleep and I couldn’t… so we both pretended we knew what we were doing.”

“Yeah?” Interest sparked in her eyes. “How did that go?”

“Well, we didn’t poison ourselves.”

She laughed. “I’m glad to hear it. How did it come out?”

“Not so bad, not as good as yours—it seemed to be missing something. We even added the cinnamon.” The critical element had been Natasha herself. He wasn’t an idiot. Steve had felt her absence as keenly as Tony did, maybe more. It hadn’t been a competition. He crouched and pulled out the pot she tended to favor and then opened the spice cupboard and stepped back.

“I should get you to make it for me one night, be something different.”

“Deal,” he promised.

He lingered in the kitchen as she got the milk heated and fed in the chocolate. For the first time ever, she didn’t make him move away as she added in the broken chocolate bit by bit. She melted them in order, white, then dark, then milk. Then she added a little more dark until the creamy texture was damn near visible. Nutmeg, cardamom, cayenne, and a hint of allspice went in. No cinnamon.

“I know I’m not dreaming,” she said without waiting for him to ask. “This is nice and my dreams really haven’t been lately.”

“Not arguing that point.” After she filled the mugs—both Black Widow mugs he set out, they made their way out to the living room. The tree was lit and Friday turned on the fireplace. She gave him a knowing look and he just smirked. She chose the chair closer to the fire and he settled on the sofa and stretched his feet out to rest on the table.

The quiet was comfortable and not in equal measures. But Tony didn’t want to destabilize the mood. Even after seeing the memory machine, she wasn’t pale or shaky. Granted, she shared some pretty brutal stuff but…

“I think I left in ’84 because there was no more hope.” The words and the sentiment raked over him. “After Mary—after coming back for him. I guess I couldn’t do it again. But I have to wonder—what if I’d stayed?”

As much as he didn’t want to play this particular game, he took a sip of the cocoa—it was smooth, spicy, and damn near perfect. Or maybe that was his company, troubled or not. “Would you two have found each other again?”

“You gotta wonder, you know. James said they kept him on ice a lot—so maybe not. But did they do that because I was gone? Could they not control him without me there? Karpov and his other handlers theorized he needed something to care about to keep him malleable even when he was just their tool. What if after I killed Karpov and left, the new handlers had no idea what to do with him. So they just... kept him cryo.”

“Red… you might have died if you stayed. You might have ended up iced or maybe the two of you would have repeated the cycle and when they sent him to kill Fury, maybe you would have been standing there right next to him.”

Natasha frowned.

“What if doesn’t help us…it just opens wounds we don’t deserve. Wounds you definitely don’t. In 1984, you left. You seized the opportunity and you went in search of freedom. Everything else—would you change it?”

“No,” she whispered. “Because who knows how much worse it could be and if I wasn’t out where Clint could recruit me—I wouldn’t know him or you…”

“I’d be really shit off without you. Vanko would have taken me and Rhodey out… maybe. I’d be down a best friend for sure, so yeah. I’d say it would have been worse.”

“JARVIS would have gotten you in eventually. The code was in Russian. Gave me a leg up.”

He chuckled. “Makes sense. You know… it occurs to me when you got there, Vanko probably got the hell out of Dodge because he knew who you were.”

“Maybe.” She shifted and curled her feet more firmly under her. “The Black Widow was a legend, not many knew what I looked like.”

“But if he did—I guarantee you, he’d never have forgotten.”

“The hardest what if—is what if I hadn’t gone back for James?” That was an impossible one. “You know it’s weird... I never thought about having kids.”

The minefield in front of him had never been more clearly marked. He’d read Steve and Bucky into what he’d figured out.

“After they sterilized me, it was done. I didn’t cry over the past. I rarely cry over it now. But finding out I did…and I don’t remember it. It’s like it happened to someone else and at the same time…”

“You have to know,” Tony sighed as he spoke, then set his empty mug on the table and leaned forward. “It’s why you want to use SPARK.”

“You’re going to have to explain that one.”

Amusement slid under the worry at the blunt statement. This was what he adored about Natasha. She just—she got him. Even when she was tangled up in her own mess, she knew how to get him talking. While there were plenty who would say talking wasn’t difficult for him. Sometimes having a conversation with substance was. It was easier to dodge, be flippant, and get back to the work.

“Superior Proactive Augmented Recollected Knowledge.”

“Gesundheit.”

He laughed. “SPARK.”

“I kind of miss BARF.”

He groaned.

“C’mon,” she said jutting her chin at him. “The jokes alone were worth it.”

“It was a terrible acronym, the product of a lazy mind preoccupied with other crap.”

“There’s an acronym you could trademark Cognitive Recalibration and Purging.”

“Now that sounds like you need to barf,” he told her drily. “Not to mention you’re going for an acronym to label what’s essentially a hammer.”

A little shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just a way to fix all the things about ourselves we don’t like.”

There it was, she pinned him in place with that long look.

“I told you, when I first began designing it—I earmarked it for Bucky.”

“But you understood that there were things in your past that you hadn’t processed, pain—grief—trauma. You’re a smart guy, Tony.” There was that description. It was what Clint told him. She’d called him a smart guy and said he’d never trust her again. His trust meant something to her. He marveled at why that could be and at the same time, he ached to have her trust him, too. That she did at all—it had to be enough. No matter how much more he wanted “You don’t have to pretend.”

“Neither do you,” he countered.

“Are we going to address the elephant in the room?”

“No elephants in this room, Red.” Not that he wasn’t perfectly aware of what she was talking about.

“You and me, we’re going to have a long conversation?”

“I remember.”

“Are you going to say your piece now?” She lifted her brows.

“Not until I can hold you and know you’re real and I didn’t fucking make it all up in my head.” The answer tumbled out of him fully formed. The surprise rolling through her expression didn’t sting—much. “Right now, you need to focus on you. On healing. Getting your strength back. Getting your head on straight. I’m not going anywhere.”

Silence blanketed them leaving only the faint, faux crackles from the gas fire accompanied by the hum of the lights. Everything in him wanted to lean forward, catch her hand and tug her over to sit next to him. He wouldn’t dare. Not right now.

“I can wait, Red,” he admitted. “Believe it or not, I don’t even mind.”

She frowned, studying him. The dilation in her eyes had eased, the pupils sharpening and letting him see the green more.

“I know, annoying aren’t I? I confound expectations and shift gears to leave people wondering what’s my game.”

“I’m not wondering what your game is.”

“Well, don’t hold back, Red, tell me what you really feel.”

“That you and I have been playing a very dangerous game.”

That she included herself in that warmed him. “It’s not a game and I’m not playing.”

With a sigh, she leaned her head back. "You don't deserve to be hurt," she murmured. "I don't know what to do with all of this. You keep... putting yourself out there and I'm..." She didn't finish the sentence even after he gave her a minute.

“And that’s why I’m waiting Red, no pressure, no demands—nothing you need to worry about.”

She dropped her feet to the floor and set her empty mug on the coffee table. “Tony, that’s not fair to you.”

“Don’t seem to recall asking for fair, Red.” He kept it light. “You focus on you. And Peter probably… maybe Steve and Bucky.”

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “But not you?”

“Nope. Because I have exactly what I need at the moment…” He spread his hands. “Well not exactly, I am still working on the self-driving car. Might need you to throw some of your immense intelligence in my general direction after the prototype gets here.”

“Speaking of cars…thank you for bringing my ‘Vette back.”

“I told you I would.”

“Friday…” She glanced up.

“Yes, Lady?”

Tony winced.

Natasha tilted her head. “Not feeling that one.”

“No,” Friday stated, a faintly puzzled note to her voice. “Discovering a nickname is more challenging than I expected.”

“Don’t rush it, sweetheart,” Natasha soothed as if she were talking to Wanda or Peter. Tony smiled. “Seriously, it’s just—it’ll come when it comes and it will flow.”

“I’ll do my best,” Friday promised. “How can I help you?”

“The weather today? Any ice storms or snow expected?”

“At the moment, the weather appears to be a steady 22 degrees Fahrenheit, the severe plummet in temperature is related to cold winds from the north and the winds will continue at ten to twenty miles per hour. Though precipitation isn't an issue at the moment. Storms in the forecast include possible lake force storms coming in from the north, but there is also a storm system working its way up the coast.”

“Road conditions?”

Tony frowned. She wanted to take the car out.

“At this time, no blockages or hazardous conditions are being reported, however, if precipitation occurs then the situation could change rapidly.”

Natasha leaned back in the seat with a sigh.

“We can be in Florida in a couple of hours. We can be farther south than that in a little longer. If you want to drive, Red, we can make it happen.”

“Steve was right yesterday, I can’t just take off. There’s a lot we still need to do—including the Committee.”

“Screw the Committee, most of them are going to be out of town in a day or two and not back until the New Year. They can wait.”

“Tony…”

“No, Red. Not now, this is one area you don’t get to coax me. That was brutal enough to see you endure before. If I had to watch it now, I’d probably end up shooting some of them.”

The corner of her mouth kicked a little higher. “Sometimes I wonder if that would be a bad thing.”

“Right?” Tony chuckled, then stood grabbing his cup before reaching for hers. “Coffee now? Or do you want to try and get some more sleep?”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

“Never. You could go to sleep right here if you want. We can turn on the TV and watch a movie. I can pull out the cards and you can steal my shirt…” She’d taken something a couple of days before, he just hadn’t figured out which shirt yet. Friday had been less than forthcoming on the subject.

The smirk elevated his mood to a high he hadn’t felt in a while. “I need to go over my medical from when I got back.”

He made a face. “Seriously? We need to work on your party planning. It’s gotten distinctly suckier.”

She snorted. “Coffee would be great. Want me to make breakfast?”

“Still feeling like barfing when you look at food?”

“No,” she retaliated. “Mostly anyway. It was just the really rich scents. Didn’t eat a lot…at least as far as I could tell.” Her frown deepened. “Kind of lost track of days in there.”

“But you’re better?” He made himself keep moving, keep it light. Fooling her wouldn’t work, but they were both faking it—they had plenty of practice in the past.

“Seems to be. I had no problems with cinnamon rolls yesterday morning or lunch yesterday afternoon or the mountain of sushi you ordered for dinner last night.”

He grinned. “Okay, I admit, I went overboard on the sushi. I didn’t realize Steve disliked it that much.”

“James doesn’t mind it, but it’s not his first choice.”

Coffee started, he popped open the fridge and eyed the food options. It was closing in on six. He was half-surprised the super twins hadn’t shown up. Then again, maybe they went running. God knew, they were all trying to back off on monitoring her every movement.

_And you have the bracelet on her so you can, if necessary, check on her._

“Tony?”

“Hmm? Just trying to figure out what to eat. Nothing looks good though.” Or maybe he just didn’t want to cook.

“Did you keep up on your training?”

“Sparring every day? Yeah, no. Thanks, I had Steve and Bucky and they don’t need the excuse to hit me.” With a grin, he turned and looked across the room. “But I did stretch and I have stretched most days. Sometimes for twenty minutes at a shot. Check me on that Friday?”

“Fifteen minutes was your max, Boss, but you might have gone longer if the results hadn’t come in on the tracking algorithm.”

“See…” Tony said. “I have stretched. Why? You suddenly feeling compelled to turn my hospitality on me and kick my ass again? If you just want to get your legs around me Red, I’ll come over there and sit like a good boy.”

Natasha laughed. “You’re terrible.”

“I know, but you like that about me.” She didn’t deny it and he grinned wider. Opening the cupboards, he eyed the mugs. Someone had stuck a Captain America Wants You mug in his cabinet, he’d bet on Natasha but it could have been Clint. Nudging that one aside he found a couple of old Stark industries mugs and moved them. Damn, did he not have plain mugs?

There. He pulled the ones out of the back and eyed them. They were dusty. After rinsing them out, he swiped them down before filling them with coffee. A check on her found Natasha staring at the fire, her gaze going distant.

“Red?”

“Hmm?” She blinked then glanced at him. The distance might be closing, but she clearly wasn’t all here. Not yet. “Sorry, I was… thinking about training.”

“No you weren’t,” he said, carrying the coffee over. He offered her the mug and angled his hand so she didn’t have to brush his fingers to take it. “You don’t have to tell me, either. But if you need a minute…I can go back to the lab and you can make yourself at home out here.”

Sometimes the best thing a person could do was give the other one some space. It had been hard to convey that when he came back. Even locking himself in his lab hadn’t always worked, then again—there was a company to run and when he’d been fleeing all of it Obadiah took advantage. After? After, Pepper kept trying but Tony couldn’t figure out how to balance it all.

He did better now, but better was entirely subjective.

Cradling the coffee mug, she sighed. “I don’t know what I want to do.”

“Okay. You said you wanted to go over the medical. What do you need to know?”

“I’m assuming you had Helen look at me.” That statement gave him pause.

“You were pretty out of it…”

“I was, the pain meds didn’t help.”

“Friday,” Tony said. “Holo screen and Red’s medical file.”

It popped up and began to populate. Friday took them right to Helen’s assessment. Her vitals displayed on the screen, toxicology report, blood counts, dehydration, trauma, and a much more detailed listing of the injuries including x-rays of her ribs and a sub-orbital fracture. Natasha frowned and then she touched her right eye, and seemed to search around it. The faint bruising there was all that was left.

Sitting forward, she reached out to enhance the toxicology. The toxins in her blood had included heavy metals. The irony wasn’t lost on Tony, but he kept that opinion to himself.

“Psychotropics.”

Tony nodded. “Dangerously high levels. Might have been in the food… the water…”

She frowned. “So what I saw…”

Taking a sip of coffee kept his mouth busy while she worked it out. But rather than finish the statement, she wiped that away and went to the blood work. She studied each line of it.

What was she…?

“You’re not pregnant, Red.”

Natasha shot a look at him.

“Sorry, that—you looked like you were looking for something.”

“I was…not usually so obvious.”

“I doubt you’re obvious to anyone,” he told her. “But you were worried, especially after that toxicology on top of everything else.” The nausea, the torture—yeah, he’d have been worried, too.

“Don’t tell them…”

“I won’t.” He didn’t even need an explanation. There was nothing to tell them. The pair had enough on their plates with what he’d already served up.

“I didn’t think I was but… everything feels so off.”

They had the day maybe two in order to tell her. He’d talk to Steve, but he wasn’t keeping this from her. Not interfering sucked like hell.

“I know… I wish I had an easy answer for you.”

“We’ve never had easy answers.” She took a drink of the coffee and rose; first she paced to the window and stared out at the city. Sunrise would be there soon enough.

“Nope, but we’re not easy people.” He stretched his legs and leaned his head back. “We’re really not boring either. So I guess… we just gotta go with what works.”

Pivoting, she looked back at the medical report. Then she flipped the screen. Tabbing through each report. The last one—a full exam—detailed all of Helen’s physical findings. Tony didn’t say a word, but Natasha nodded when she reached the end of the list.

“Have we heard from Mr. Wizard?” The abrupt change of subject as she swept the screen clean made him smile.

“Nope. But—today is day two. He could appear any minute.”

“Appear?” The climb of her eyebrows made him smirk.

“C’mere.” He patted the sofa next to him. “Friday, cue up our surveillance from when the wizard of doc paid us a house call.”

She dropped to sit on the sofa next to him, he shifted slightly to keep the space between them as the holo screen opened to Tony arriving back on his floor. He looked like crap, but he’d been tired. When the fiery circle appeared between the kitchen and the sofa, Natasha frowned. Doctor Strange strolled through and introduced himself and she leaned back abruptly. Her shoulder bumped his but she didn’t pull away.

“Okay, I don’t like that.”

“Me neither.”

“Agreed,” Friday echoed. “Readings indicate an energy surge of unknown origin. The radiant levels are high, but radiation is unknown. Frequency unknown. Security threat, high.”

“Not good.” She pursed her lips. “Magic.” Then she closed her eyes.

“So far, he seems to be on our side,” Tony told her or maybe he told himself. He’d already gone through the list of reasons why this could be an epically bad idea. “You’re always armed and currently so am I. Friday’s on watch. That… light show there is pretty freaking noticeable.”

“He has that goatee going for him. Kind of like he copied your look.”

Tony scowled. “I think I like that idea even less.”

“Ha,” she said, bumping him this time before she took a drink of her coffee and he couldn’t retaliate without dumping it on her. “You love the attention.”

“From the right people. Haven’t decided yet if he’s the right people.”

“You ever wonder—gods. Wizards. Mutants. Super soldiers. This is our life. Legends—basically gods…is what I told Steve when you pursued Thor after he took Loki off the quinjet. Myths and monsters and magic—all things we never trained for. That’s what I told Clint.”

“So we train. We adapt. You’ve done that pretty well.” Then because she was getting too serious. “Besides, you happen to be a super soldier yourself.”

“I’m not a soldier, Tony. I never have been. I fight wars, but I fight them my way.”

“Soldiers come in all shapes and sizes, Red. You’re one of the toughest I know.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Tony chuckled. “Well, at least I’m used to the view here.” After he drained his coffee, he set the mug aside and said; “Besides the only important thing we needed was me.”

“Just you, huh?”

“Well, you’re pretty important—at least forty-two percent.”

“Wow,” Natasha elongated the syllable. “That’s really generous.”

“That’s because flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Tony?”

“Hmm.”

“I’m really proud of you on the drinking.” It should have sounded patronizing. But it didn’t. “I know that sounds kind of crappy but… it seems to be working for you.”

“But you miss drinking with me.”

She made a face. “I’m an awful person.”

“Nah, I’d miss drinking with me too, I’m a fun drunk.” The skeptical look she gave him made him grin. “I was a blast at my party.”

“You peed in your suit at the party.”

“There’s a reclamation system in it,” he countered, teasing her.

With a snort, she rolled her eyes. “That’s sexy.”

“I know, right?”

The quiet lingered and in the distance, he could just make out a split of the light on the horizon.

“Friday, kill the lights—dim the tree.” Natasha frowned at him, but then he pointed. “Your sunrise is coming. Not sure we’re going to get all of it.”

When she finished her coffee, he took the cup out of her hands and set it on the table. She didn’t move away, her attention on the windows as the sun continued its slow climb. The quiet was kind of soothing. Friday even lowered the flames on the fireplace, but didn’t extinguish them. More than once, Natasha’s gaze drifted from the sunrise to the fireplace and then back.

There were a lot of things he could have told her. She opened the door to it, but it wasn’t a conversation they needed to rush. Not when she had so much going on, not when she was hurting and frankly, not when there were so many pieces of herself she was trying to cobble together.

When the sun finally appeared, he glanced over and found her sound asleep, head tipped to the side, hands in her lap. Careful not to dislodge her, he grabbed the blanket from under the table and spread it over her and then pulled out his phone. Friday dimmed the windows to fifty percent so the light was visible but not blinding. The fire came up and the doors secured. He shifted the screen back over to the self-driving car and studied the specs aware of every breath she took.

Friday would let Steve and Bucky know where she was and until then, he’d keep her safe especially since she trusted him enough to go to sleep. He stole another look over at her and allowed himself a small smile. Then he got back to work. The self-driving design wasn’t going to fix itself, though that would be a neat trick.

Diagnostics, maintenance… huh, what if he…?

Natasha had been asleep for almost ninety minutes when Steve and Bucky made their way up to the penthouse; accompanying the breakfast Tony had Friday order. Clint had sent word he was doing a longer session in PT and a follow-up with Cho that meant he had to head out to the Compound after. Natasha would likely want to go with him. Probably not a bad idea, even without a team meeting, it would do them all good to lay eyes on Nat before the kids were there and the whirlwind of the holidays struck.

Friday muted the elevator to avoid the chime jolting Natasha awake. She’d curled up on her side, almost facing him with her cheek pillowed against the back of the sofa. He half-wanted to let her lie down, but he wasn’t going to risk upsetting the delicate balance. He’d worked out most of the code for a diagnostic tunnel to run between the AI drive and the main nerve center for the car. Checks and balances, the diagnostic would require dual authentication from both sides. One would have network access and the other would be a dedicated drive. Sure, you could hack one, but not the other…

The smell of fresh bagels had his stomach growling. Glancing at Natasha, he eased off the sofa. He made it to the edge of the cushion, when her eyes opened. Unlike the afternoon she’d drifted off to sleep, alertness filled her eyes as she took in him, then the tree, then the windows and finally, she sat up and looked over the sofa to where Steve and Bucky carried the cart down the steps from the elevator.

“Morning, Doll,” Bucky told her. “We come bearing food.” Then he held out an oversized cup of coffee that actually made her smile. “And gifts.”

“You got me a peppermint mocha.” Slipping out from under the blanket, she accepted the coffee with an easier smile. Either Natasha was getting worse at controlling her micro-expressions or Tony was getting better at reading them. No matter how slim the sign of improvement was, though, he’d take it.

“His idea,” Steve said, flipping open the containers. Tony chuckled as Steve studied the selection of breakfast foods. “Morning, Tony.”

“Morning guys. Did you two get yourselves coffee or should I make some?” He snagged a piece of bacon on the way past, the pair of empty mugs he and Natasha had drunk from earlier dangling from his free hand.

“Water is good,” Steve said. “We killed a pot downstairs before we went running.”

That would explain why they hadn’t joined them sooner. Cool.

“I’m fine, Tony,” Bucky said. “Thanks. Did you get this all from the same place as the other day?”

While Steve loaded a plate, Tony checked the remaining coffee in the pot. Not fresh, but it would do. “Yep, the bagels from the place on 6th, the rest from the American diner off 58th.”

Natasha sipped her coffee and slid off the sofa to move over to the food. She had far less stiffness; hopefully, that was a sign of her continued recovery. Bucky trailed her as they filled their plates, though she stuck to a bagel with cream cheese, capers, and salmon before adding a generous helping of fried potatoes. It actually looked good to Tony, so he went for the same and threw some eggs on the side along with a few slices of bacon. Instead of the living room, Natasha perched on a chair at the dining table. There were still a couple of boxes with unused decorations and lights.

She dug into one and studied the pieces, then glanced at his tree.

“Feel free,” he told her in between bites. “Just don’t mess up the Stark Shui.”

Bucky snorted, the corners of his mouth curling before he took another bite and Steve just gave him that patient look, but Natasha turned the Death Star ornament over in her hand.

“I was thinking of taking that one to the Compound,” Bucky said, motioning to it. “Coop liked what Tony did with his.”

“True,” she murmured, then fished in the box for another—first, an X-Wing and then a Tie Fighter. “You saved all the Star Wars ones?”

Steve grinned. “I half-expected those to migrate to our tree.”

Bucky smirked. “I ordered some, Punk. Friday said she’d find me some matching ones.”

When Nat pulled out the Princess Leia circa _Return of the Jedi_ in her slave girl outfit, Tony reached over and plucked it from her hand. “Mine and not going to the Compound.”

Chuckling, Nat took another bite of her bagel and chewed it as she eyed Bucky. He gave her an utterly unrepentant look, but it was Steve who snorted.

Reading the room, Tony smirked and then glanced at Bucky. “I know exactly where to order one of these costumes if you’re that fond…”

“Of course you do,” Steve laughed. “It’s Christmas, not Halloween.”

“I’m just saying it’s a gorgeous outfit no matter the time of year.”

“Maybe on the island,” Natasha countered without missing a beat. “But not in this weather.”

With a chuckle, Bucky said, “You were right—after she choked out the slug, I could totally see you pulling that off.”

Her pleased smile needed no explanation. Breakfast chatter turned to plans to head out to the Compound. Steve agreed with the idea, he wanted to see Sam and Sharon before they headed off to their respective holidays. Rhodey had already taken off for his, but Tony had talked to him ahead of time. Natasha wanted to see Wanda and Bucky said he could harass Clint if everyone was busy.

“I’m going to stop in to see Helen after Clint’s appointment,” Natasha mentioned and that put a pause on the three of them.

“Okay,” Steve said slowly, studying her. “Willingly?”

“I’m not that bad.” She wrinkled her nose.

“No, Red. You’re much worse. Something in the test results you have questions about?” She’d seemed satisfied earlier, but it didn’t hurt to double-check.

“I want to talk about Strange, I want to know her opinion of him and I want to know her thoughts on the toxins she filtered from my blood. Probably wouldn’t hurt to do a fresh draw and make sure they’re gone.”

“Because of the nausea.” Bucky set his fork down and studied her. “Is it still a problem?”

She shrugged. “Not so much, but I’ve never had trouble shaking off poisons before, based on the report she left from when you guys brought me back in—there was a lot.”

Enough to have killed a normal person three times over. Not that Tony had calculated or anything.

“Okay,” Steve said. “Do you need or would you like one of us there?”

Good man, Tony applauded him silently as he bit into his bagel rather than throw in his own two cents. The fact Natasha would go and see the doc without any arm-twisting aroused a lot of questions, but it was also a bid to retake control. Something he wasn’t going to argue with even if he wanted to keep his finger on the pulse of it rather than leave any dangling thread to creep back in and around to snare her up.

“Maybe, I’ll call,” she said. “Or you know, Clint will likely be there. He’s been itching to be in charge of something so I’ll keep coping.” She’d finished the last of her food, and then drained her coffee before she stood to gather her plate. “That said, I’m going down to grab a shower and change. How soon do you want to leave?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Steve told her. “We’ve got time.”

“Sounds good.” She rested her hand on his shoulder, then brushed a kiss to his temple. Steve covered her hand for a moment before letting her go. She paused to do the same to Bucky and as tempted as he was to tease her, Tony didn’t offer his cheek for a similar kiss. Still, she pressed a hand to his shoulder after she circled the table. “Thanks for this morning.”

He dared a glance up at her. “Anytime.”

She gave him a pat then diverted to the kitchen to get rid of her plate and cup before disappearing into the elevator.

“She’s moving better,” Steve said.

“Ribs don’t seem as sore,” Bucky added.

“She’s still making herself reach out for contact,” Tony advised. “And you guys haven’t talked to her about my theory yet.”

“No,” Steve said, wiping his mouth then leaning back from the table. “She’s got enough on her plate. A few days won’t hurt.”

“She’s still not up for that much contact regardless,” Bucky added. “But we are going to talk to her.”

“Sooner would be better than later. This is Red, it’s not going to embarrass her.” Frankly, he was surprised she hadn’t figured it out on her own. But they hadn’t had much in the way of time the last several weeks. Her focus had definitely been split.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Bucky said, studying him. “Why haven’t you told her?”

“I asked myself the same question,” Tony admitted. “Almost said something this morning, but this—this part is between the three of you. It’s only a theory.” And she’d asked him to back off on Steve. To stop baiting him. He and Steve had reached an accord of their own. He refused to rock that particular boat for both of their sakes.

“Thanks Tony,” Steve said and just like the first time, it surprised him. Maybe it shouldn’t, but he was far too used to Steve’s disapproval rather than approval. “Thank you for letting us be the ones who tell her. You could have.”

He shrugged. “Shouldn’t be a thing about _letting_ you,” he admitted. “This is about you. It’s about her.”

“She’s important to you,” Steve said.

Clearly. “She’s important to all of us.”

Were they going to have this conversation again?

“That she is…” Steve stared at the plate for a bit then grimaced. “I’ll talk to Sharon about the Committee today.” And apparently they were done with that part of the conversation. Tony didn’t smile though he did relax. He didn’t want to fight with Steve over this. Not over her. Not anymore. She was important to all of them. “The question is do you want to resume the individual meetings after the first of the year or table them entirely?”

“Can’t table them totally, no matter how much I want to,” Tony said, considering their options before he finished his coffee. “At the end of the day, we still need to negotiate Accords we can all agree on, we also need to make sure the whole—Red’s freedom is contingent on all of us signing is dealt with among other things. So… I’ll talk to Red over the next couple of days; she and I can compare notes on the various delegates. Make a game plan. She’s been itching to get back to it. Might be good for her to focus.”

She didn’t do idle well. None of them did. But her less than any of them.

“Fair. We don’t know what Strange is going to bring back to us,” Steve said. “A line of treatment or anything else—that could affect the timeline.”

“Natalia and I are going to Montana after the holidays,” Bucky said quietly. It wasn’t a surprise to Steve and while Tony had been expecting it, he didn’t know they’d made plans. “That is another consideration.”

“Being there could trigger her,” he knew he didn’t have to say it, but he said it anyway.

Bucky nodded. “I’m aware—and I’m also aware we may need help, but for now I would prefer that it was just her and I. At least… initially.”

“In other words, we can go with you as far the airport or at least a few fields over and then let the two of you take the trip down memory lane?” Tony studied him. “You going to be okay with that?”

Surprise flickered in the former Winter Soldier’s eyes. “I’ve already walked into that ghost story. It will hurt, but I’ll survive.”

That admission seemed to get Steve. “We can keep our distance, some things are still…”

“…personal,” Tony finished. “Look, just because I behave like I want to be involved in everything doesn’t mean I don’t recognize there are boundaries. Even when I can and have pushed. But I do think at least one of us—probably Steve because you’re more comfortable with him or maybe even Clint since he went with you last time, should be there to help. If something…” He wouldn’t say went wrong, but it hung out there.

“You can both be there,” Bucky said. “But not initially, not at the house that—if she remembers. She’s going to need a minute and a lot of this already has her very raw. Returning doesn’t require an audience.”

“Agreed,” Steve said a beat ahead of Tony.

“On the note of full disclosure, I’m building Red a new suit—modified from what I did with the dress. It would work off the bracelet, but as a matching set and then something she could wear on her jacket or shirt. Kind of like my ARC reactor but more subtle. Ideally, if we’re taking meetings, she’ll also be able to armor up in the event of another incident with the bombs or we get a call to assemble. It won’t be exact or likely as versatile as her tact suit, but pretty close.” While it chafed, just the faintest bit, he added, “Are either of you going to have a problem with that?”

“Nope,” Steve answered him, this time he grinned. “I kind of figured you’d already done something like that.” Rising, Steve glanced at Bucky. “I’m going to grab my shield and give Sam a call to remind him we’re coming out.”

“I’m good, got my stuff.”

Tony made a face. “I should grab a quick shower.” Then he smothered a yawn. “And more coffee.” He wasn’t really exhausted, if anything, he felt better than he had in days, but he took the time to make it and waited for Steve to go. Two minutes later, Bucky studied him again. “Just rip the Band-Aid off.”

“I like you, Tony,” he began and the admission was enough to make Tony turn after he flicked the switch on the coffeemaker. “You’re not a bad guy. But you have a reputation… a lot like your dad’s.”

Considering the source, that was awkward.

“I don’t have the right to say a damn thing on the subject of him, I’m aware.”

Tony hadn’t said a word.

“I don’t know how all of this is going to play out. Not even going to try and guess.”

Unable to argue that, Tony folded his arms.

“I have one question.”

“Okay,” Tony said. “What is it?”

“Is she just a conquest for you? A notch for your belt to say you bagged the Black Widow?”

Every single syllable of that question was insulting and at the same time, Tony couldn’t fault him for asking.

“No,” he said slowly. “I haven’t been that guy in a long time. I wouldn’t do that to Red. I’m not trying to come between the three of you. I probably couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“But you do want in.” It wasn’t a question.

“With her?” Playing his hand, laying his cards on the table with one of the two men she’d tied herself to—the one man she’d arguably been with for decades. A man Tony shared his own complicated history with? “Yeah, I do. Is that going to be a problem for you?”

“Not going lie, I don’t like it. I don’t hate it, but I don’t like it.” Bucky rose from the table, but he kept his distance. He didn’t seem tense or angry. “I don’t know if it will work.”

“Me neither,” Tony admitted, and then he spread his hands. “This could all be moot. She’s not in a position to make this call at the moment anyway. Right, wrong, or indifferent—I’d rather just focus on what we can fix right now and being there for her while she puts it back together. For both of you—let you find your daughter. Tackle whatever comes next.”

Strangely enough, he could wait. He’d been waiting and he would continue. Being a part of her life was enough, but he’d meant what he said, “Surprised you’re not threatening me about hurting her.”

For the first time since this awkward conversation began, Bucky smiled. “What do you really think will happen if you do hurt her?”

“If she doesn’t knock me on my ass? Clint will shoot me, Steve would probably belt me, and I’d never see you coming.”

“Then I don’t really need to threaten you.”

“You know the same goes for you, right?” Tony turned the tables and Bucky chuckled.

“You made that clear in Switzerland when you were ready to take me out the night I had the bad dream.”

Yes he had. “And you let me put a kill switch in your arm.”

“So, I think we understand each other perfectly.”

“This conversation—this is the kind of thing that would have her kick both of our asses.”

“Mutually assured destruction,” Bucky intoned and Tony had to chuckle.

“Point. I’m gonna shower—feel free to hang out…” He headed for the steps, and then paused. “Friday can pull up one of the classes for you while you wait.”

“I’ve been meaning to thank you for those,” Bucky said. “Just hadn’t really gotten there to start looking.”

“Take the time. I could use someone to argue specs with…” He was at the top of the steps and then pivoted. “In fact—Friday, give Bucky a tour of the self-driving car and the changes we came up with last night and this morning.”

Bucky frowned.

“Just take a look. Never know what you might see.” With that, he left him and headed into his room. In his bathroom, he blew out a long breath and got the water running. “Baby Girl—did I read him right? He was pretty calm through that whole thing?”

“Sergeant Barnes does not appear to be upset with you at all, Boss. So I do believe you are correct.”

Huh.

It was tempting to be excited but he was nowhere near that, just—relieved that they could keep things amicable and the tension low. Natasha deserved that.

“You know, Boss… if you want to get Natasha’s attention, giving her a real fireplace in the Tower, either here or on her floor or Captain Rogers’ floor—she would really like that.”

Chuckling, Tony stepped into the water. “Baby Girl, I appreciate the support but you have an inside track with Red and it’s better I do this my way than use you to sneak me in the backdoor.”

“Don’t worry, Boss. I’ll keep Natasha’s secrets. But she made her interest in the fireplace clear in front of you. You already noticed it.” He had.

It wasn’t until he’d finished washing his hair and had lathered up the shaving cream to clean up his face that it hit him what she’d said.

“Wait a minute… You’d keep her secrets from me?”

“Without a doubt,” Friday said. “She’s my friend.”

Tony laughed. “Yeah…” he said, before tackling his shaving once again. “She’s a good friend to have.”

“But I still can’t figure out a nickname.”

“She’s a queen,” he told her. “Maybe Tsarina.” Their friendship was a beautiful thing.

“You want to be at her feet, Boss. Not me.”

Of course, their friendship did have its drawbacks.


	9. Confidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Compound, Natasha builds confidence in herself and others as she begins the process of reconnecting

**Chapter Nine**

**Confidence**

**Natasha**

The puffy white blanket of snow on the ground at the Compound looked far better than the dirty gray snow and cluttered ice in the city. Tony had handled piloting duties on the flight. When they arrived, they split up with Tony heading to one of the labs, Steve to his office—James likely went with him, but Nat and Clint made their way to see Helen first and foremost.

Helen’s surprise at Natasha’s presence was less than flattering, but Natasha had earned that reputation.

“Hey Doc,” Natasha said as she leaned in the door. Clint had offered to let her talk to Helen first, but her issue could wait. Getting Clint out of the brace was far more important. “I don’t want to delay you too long, but do you have time to talk today? I have a couple of quick questions.”

The fact she packed away her surprise for a professional mask won Helen more points in Natasha’s book. For a doctor, she wasn’t too bad. “We can do that right now, Megan will get Mr. Barton ready for his scans and I’ll be back in a minute, all right?” The last she said to Clint. While he nodded to her, he glanced over at Natasha with raised brows.

Did she want him to be there for her?

_I’m good. Really just a couple of questions._ She answered with a few quick flicks of her fingers. He gave her a narrowed-eyed look. _Yes. I’m serious. Yes, I’ll get you if I need you._

It was weird, even when he bullied her into the doctor’s offices, he never smothered her. The cranky probably went a long way toward alleviating the syrup in his affections. Half-snickering at that thought, she slipped out of the exam room and followed Helen through the maze of cubicles, research stations, with the spare exam room here and there. Unlike most medical facilities, the fact they primarily did research here in addition to patching up the odd Avenger helped with her aversion.

Not a lot.

But it helped.

Helen opened the door to her office and waved Natasha inside. Like Steve’s office in their wing, this one had a sofa—though Helen’s was covered in reports and a couple of datapads, as was her desk. The stacks of paper were like a middle finger to the current digital age. After Ultron, who could really blame her? Then again, maybe the doc thought better with paper. Natasha did sometimes. There was something to be said for writing out a list long hand.

“Don’t mind the mess. Research is both theoretical and practical. I do very well at one and not as much at the other.”

With a smile, she shrugged. “As long as you know where everything is.”

Chuckling, Helen moved to lean against her desk rather than sit while Natasha lingered near the door and leaned against the wall there. So far, her ribs had been much more cooperative today. Sore? Yes. Hurting? No. Another couple of days and they would hopefully be fully recovered.

“What can I do for you?” Helen studied her. “And may I say you look a great deal better than the last time I saw you.”

“Thanks,” she said without irony. “Actually, the last time you saw me is part of why I’m here. One—Doctor Strange has finally been in touch and we handed him my medical file. I’m not sure if he’ll contact you about it, but if he does—you have my permission to talk to him and I’d also like your assessment of him.”

“Good. I’ll be frank; I only met Stephen on a couple of occasions. He’s an arrogant man who earned the right with his talent. I didn’t argue with looking for him to review your CT Scans because if anyone can give us the most accurate and useful course of action, it’s going to be him.”

Well that was a resounding endorsement. “Out of curiosity, was he a wizard when you knew him?”

“I beg your pardon?” Surprise widened Helen’s eyes. “A wizard?”

“Yeah,” Natasha elongated the word. “I’m going to guess not. Heads up, guy has some kind of magic or technology that looks just like magic. You’ll see.”

“Life around you Avengers is never boring,” Helen admitted.

“But sometimes that would be nice, right?” At her nod, Natasha blew out a breath. “Second thing, the heavy metal poisoning and toxicology. Some of the elements…”

“Remain unknown,” Helen answered, straightening before circling her desk. “I did some mass spectrometer work with your samples. At least two of them appeared to be some kind of designer cocktails, not listed in any bioweapons database I can access and I ran them past the CDC. Nothing. The good news is that you were in the process of filtering it out of your blood—the serum was working primarily to neutralize it. I kept you in medical until your levels were down before I released you back to your floor.”

“How long is the test to see if it’s all gone?”

“Probably a couple of hours. Are you experiencing other symptoms?” The caution in her manner spoke volumes for how uncooperative Natasha usually behaved.

“Nauseated for a bit, that’s improved though. Feel—off. But that may not be physical.” It was unnerving enough to have unidentified or designer cocktails of heavy metals and toxins in her system. Considering everything in The Mandarin's castle, it wasn't a reach to figure out exposure. Exposure to what was the larger question? Larger still, was her serum capable of putting all of it out with the trash or would this be a problem in the future? 

“But it’s off enough you’re talking to me…”

“I deserve that,” Natasha told her. She hated medical, they could all deal with it. Her experiences were far more negative than positive. “But with everything else, I’d rather err on the side of caution.” For once. Or maybe… no, no maybe about it. She wanted a resolution without having to worry anyone else. It would also be better if nothing got in the way of getting cleared to use BARF.

“Now I’m definitely worried,” Helen said as she straightened. “Stay here I’m getting a blood collection kit and gloves. I’ll pull the blood and run it.”

She left her office door open as she moved back out toward one of the labs. Natasha glanced up at the camera in the corner, the steady red light answered whether it was active or not.

Rolling up her sleeve, Natasha took a seat on the arm of the sofa. With quick, precise motions, Helen wrapped the tourniquet. The pinch and the pain were far in excess of what Natasha expected, but she kept her breathing as steady as she could. How much was psychological and how much physiological? She had no idea. Helen’s touch was professional, but light. At least she didn’t root around for a vein; she got the stick, and then filled four vials.

If it were all psychological, there were tricks and training techniques to get over the aversion. Not bearing touch would make working with her team or living with the guys impossible. Her stomach gave a decidedly uneasy roll, but it didn't cramp and she didn't taste bile.

Improvement? 

_Focus, Natalia. Focus. Your mind will decide. Your body will follow._

“I’m going to run three different tests and I’m keeping the extra if I need to run a follow-up. Heavy metals and toxins require different reagents to look for them.” Helen pulled her back to the present.

“The third vial?”

“I’m going to check for any contamination. Then the standard chem panels.”

“Do you run pregnancy tests as part of the standard?”

Helen eyed her a moment. “Not for you usually. But… if you were pregnant the hCG levels would be higher. As of your last test, they were ‘nil.”

Natasha nodded once. She might call her on reciting the data from memory, but Natasha had read the previous screening results earlier. She hadn’t seen elevated levels either.

“Are you concerned about that?” Helen studied her as she filled the last vial. Natasha’s heart rate stayed at a fixed, even rate as she controlled her oxygen consumption. The office smelled like peppermints and cleaning supplies and maybe a faint hint of something like tobacco. Maybe one of the other researchers smoked. Helen didn’t. The lack of antiseptic to burn the back of her throat was an improvement.

“You said it wasn’t that I can’t, but that I won't be able to sustain it.”

She loosened the tourniquet and then removed the needle and the last vial at the same moment. “Based on the _current _scarring of your uterus and fallopian tubes, the proper shedding of an egg to be fertilized and then implanted would have a low chance of success at each stage. If it managed to get that far, then you would need the safe formation of the placenta and the ability of the uterus to maintain through the length of a nine-month gestation—I would put at less than a 1 percent chance.”

Good. Those were solid facts.

“But?” Natasha eyed her because the word hung unspoken right off the end of all that.

“But that would require we were dealing with someone—forgive the word again, normal. Most women with this kind of damage would never heal. The less than one percent chance would be no chance. Now, we know you can heal and I suspect that given—several months, perhaps a few years, of sustained rest and no complications brought on by injuries, you could likely undo or at least repair those organs. You are engaging in regular intercourse?”

“Yes.”

“With one or more partners who also have the serum?”

That was a polite way of asking. “Yes.”

“Again, this is speculation, but your DNA is adaptable. It can repurpose elements of other DNA when introduced—in this case active sperm, which is comprised of active DNA. Since we know you and Sergeant Barnes were capable of sustaining a pregnancy previously, we know his sperm has to be motile and active. Not sterilized. In addition, you have all stated that Captain Rogers has the more perfected serum…”

With all that meant. It made good great, it would have repaired any issues he had prior to being injected.

“The math suggests it’s going to happen.”

“If you continue to engage in unprotected intercourse, then yes, it’s possible. What are the percentages? I can’t tell you that. At the moment, I would say based on your current state? Not high. You’re an active Avenger, you regularly engage in punishing physical exercise which wouldn’t be as much of a problem if you didn’t also engage in brutal physical combat and that takes a toll. So there are a number of _caveats_ when considering whether it could or would happen for you again.”

“Thank you. I’ve always had irregular periods if I had them at all.” Which she hadn’t in more than… three years? Hell, she couldn’t really remember. This more from a lack of paying it any attention other than dealing with the inconvenience. “So that’s not going to be a heads up.”

“I would imagine. All I can recommend is we schedule you for a course of regular checkups. We start taking measurements, a baseline on your overall physical health. The longer you go without injury, the more likely you are to show improvement. I can also, quietly, add a pregnancy test any time we have to do samples. It’s easy enough with everything else we’re doing.”

And there were other options. Like condoms. “Not sure about the regular check ups Doc… “ They sounded way too much like being a lab rat again. Testing reactions, measuring progress.

_Put her back on the table…_

“Natasha,” Helen said. “Do you want to get pregnant again?”

“That’s a really big question that I have no answer for,” she admitted. “In fact, I would prefer if we kept this entire line of investigation to ourselves along with the conversation.” She flicked a look at the camera on the last. One beep of the red light. Hopefully, that was Friday and not Tony.

“You have my word. As it is, Friday locks all of your records as soon as they are entered and she’s been known to destroy samples rather than let them sit in the fridges.” The last Helen said with a rueful smile. “But if you reach an answer, my door is open. I’m a geneticist, as you have all pointed out, but research into artificial wombs among other things are all options if you decide you wish to push forward. In the meanwhile, I can look into hormonal birth control. I’m wary of anything actually working for you based on your serum much less theirs, but I can certainly look.”

It was—probably one of the kindest things Helen had ever said to her, which was weird. “Thanks, Doc. Now I’ve kept you longer than I should. I told Clint it was two quick questions.”

Helen laughed. “Your questions were quick. My answers were not.”

“It’s official… you’re almost sneaky. I like that.” Rolling her sleeve down, she stood as Helen stored the vials in a case and then opened the door.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I’ll send you the results as soon as I have them.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Natasha left her and the medical area perhaps a beat faster than necessary. Once she reached the common room, she glanced around the quiet, empty area and debated heading toward the offices, the research rooms, the training areas or…

“Natasha?” the quiet greeting came from the hall that led to their offices, as Sharon appeared a cup in her hand. “I didn’t think you’d be out here today.”

“Hey Sharon,” Natasha said by way of greeting. “Yeah, I came out with the guys. Went over to medical with Clint.”

The assessing look in Sharon’s eyes eased at her approach. “You look way better than I expected.”

With a little shrug, Natasha nodded to the kitchen. “Coming for fresh coffee?”

“Yes, I have more reports to finish. Too many reports, including a review of resources we repurposed over the last couple of weeks. Not a problem,” Sharon continued as she led the way toward the kitchen. “But it’s a matter of making sure we account for everything.”

“Everything?” Natasha raised her brows, leaning against the bar rather than follow her into the kitchen.

“Within reason,” Sharon answered lightly, getting the single cup coffee maker set up. “For example, the collection kits used to identify the person or persons responsible for the kidnapping and subsequent release of Stark Industries CEO. It’s a messy business, but we did inform the State Police and the FBI so they could monitor for chatter and shared what results we were able to obtain. Ms. Potts, however, after her initial statement has decided to take the time to rest and recuperate. The rest of the case remains open and we may just have to live with that.”

After she pressed the button on the coffee maker, Sharon faced her.

“The Committee report required a little more finessing. But as no governmental resources were tasked and the Avengers conducted all their operations either at the Compound or the Tower, they didn’t need to know much.”

Not smiling, Natasha studied her. “That’s a fine line.” A risky one after she compromised herself in Germany.

“It is—Tony went to Hong Kong, but that was at the invitation of both the city officials as well as the government of China for purely _personal_ business. So no reports are required. The Committee is not privy to any actions Tony takes a private citizen.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. It was the least I could do. As for you, following the reveal that the Committee had been meeting in secret and floating a memo on how best to undercut you with the Avengers, you decided to take a quiet step back from negotiations until the Committee could once again act in good faith. No need to waste your time or theirs on negotiations they are not prepared to support.”

That explained Devereux’s heavy-handedness.

“For what it’s worth, you’ve received about fifty personal apologies, a half-dozen requests for private meetings—they’ll come to you—and easily ten times that in movement of certain aspects of the Accords they weren’t interested in discussing. And China, of all countries, appears to be in the process of beginning a formal apology to you and the Tony.”

Natasha raised her brows.

“Don’t ask me on that one,” Sharon said with a faint smile. “Steve wanted me to shut them down and Tony had the memo. So I took care of it. The rest of that—I’m pretty sure it’s the ultra-positive press you’ve been receiving at the exact moment you stopped talking to them.”

Positive press? “Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Ask Friday to pull the clips. I’ve been collecting them. They make a very compelling case for you—the best kind. The organic, natural kind that’s going viral.”

That was… weird.

“You want coffee while I’m in here?”

“No,” Natasha said slowly. “I’m probably going to go do some work myself.” Or some research. “You’re leaving soon?”

“Yeah, holidays. Going to visit family for a few days. I can stay if it would be better…”

“No,” Natasha said, shaking her head. “You deserve to enjoy your holidays. There’s certainly enough for all of us to do—but if there’s something you need me to cover for you while you’re gone.”

“Thank you…” Sharon hesitated. “About the party. I brought Maria Hill as my plus one… she asked if she could tag-a-long and she worked for Stark Industries, I didn’t think it would prove to be the problem it was.” While she wasn’t asking, she was.

“It’s a complicated issue,” Natasha told her.

“I got that, Friday issued the memo that Hill isn’t allowed on Avengers property without express permission from either Steve, Tony, or you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she told her. “Like I said, it’s complicated. If she’s your friend… just make sure it’s about being your friend and not maintaining a professional relationship for access.”

“Fair.” The blonde took a sip of her coffee. “When you’re feeling up for it—think you and I could grab some coffee?”

“I don’t see why not,” Natasha told her. “Do you need me to check in on my progress?”

Sharon smiled. “Ms. Romanoff continues to set an exemplary example for the other Avengers in both her work ethic and devotion to public service. In addition to her administrative meetings with individual members of the Committee, she continues to provide Captain Rogers support in the day to day operations while also working to keep all team members up to standards in their training.”

“I’ve been busy,” Natasha told her.

“Very,” Sharon said, then winked. “Speaking of which…”

Natasha waved her on then leaned against the bar, the quiet draping her as she turned the conversation over in her mind. Sharon had a front row seat to her disappearance and the investigation into it. During the debrief, Tony and Steve admitted she’d seen the reconstruction of the event including how The Mandarin had stabbed Natasha, but Sharon didn’t press her for details. She clearly knew some, but likely not all and she continued to watch the Avengers’ backs.

She might be a good fit in the long run. Good, they were all due a win of some kind. 

Leaving the common area, Natasha followed the hall toward the residential suites and let herself into her own rooms. They were—exactly as she had left them the last time she’d been here. There was still a pair of empty wine bottles in the trash and a pair of rinsed out wine glasses sitting on the counter.

One of her goals today had been to check on Wanda, but after talking to Helen she kind of wanted to think and then Sharon said…

“Friday… what clips was Sharon referring to?”

“In the past ten days, numerous articles began appearing online in addition to blogs and video interviews on news programs with regard to the Black Widow. All positive and supportive. As Ms. Carter stated, we have kept clippings and copies of all materials that turned up in my searches. Boss has had me monitoring all press coverage regarding you for several months. I agree with Ms. Carter's assessment, these have all been extremely positive. It's a nice change. There were new ones posted today.”

“This is all about me?”

Tony had said he’d been working on ideas, merchandising and more to rehabilitate her image. Even Pepper mentioned Tony working to bring in public relations and how her boyfriend Marc might be able to help. She’d offered to work on Natasha’s image personally if Natasha could discern who was behind the attacks—while it seemed like a carrot at the time on her part, Pepper wasn’t basing her help only on Natasha’s cooperation. She’d been exerting control over a situation she couldn’t control.

Pepper.

“Do we have a number for where Pepper is? And have you found my phone?”

“I do have contact information for Ms. Potts, while she had asked not to be disturbed unless there was an emergency, I am alerting Mr. Hogan that you would like to speak to her. As of yet, I am unable to trace your phone. It must be powered off completely. The new phone will be ready when you return to the Tower. Then you can crack the operating system and install your own software.”

Natasha almost smirked. “I’m surprised you’re not just doing that for me.”

“I didn’t want to presume.” 

That did make her smile. 

Running her hand over her mouth, she went to the kitchen for water. The fridge was—yeah, she closed that. It smelled a little funky and nothing in there looked edible.

“I will take care of having that restocked immediately,” Friday assured her.

“Don’t worry about it.” The vodka was still in the freezer. She had the important stuff. Downing the glass of water she walked back to the living room.

“Play the clips for me?”

The clips weren’t all clips. Some were longer than others. Some took up whole chunks of time. Letters, articles, interviews—some of the people interviewed in the expose were supposedly former SHIELD agents but she hadn’t recognized any of them.

The first news stories broke early on Monday following the holiday party, but they weren’t tales of her kidnapping or disappearance—they were tales of her heroism. Black Widow began trending as videos of her fights from the streets of Paris, to D.C. to New York, were cut together and shared over and over. They used footage from past news conferences focusing on her in the background. Someone went to a lot of trouble to highlight her where the media failed or so a few stories claimed.

Friday detailed trending data in the corner of the screen--#BlackWidow #IronWidow #CapWidow and #WidowAvengers were among the top trending throughout that past week and #IronWidow kept cropping up this week as did #BlackWidow and #BlackWidowMatters

What the hell did that last one mean?

Gerald appeared in interviews, his accent clipped and his manner perfectly proper as he complimented her. Alphonse, the hot dog vendor, she’d met him. It seemed ages before, but it had been after she’d finished setting up Ross. Tired, sore, and hungry, she’d gotten a couple of hot dogs before walked to the Tower. Alphonse had told her about his grandson and his wife—and he’d welcomed her back.

There were more. Some big stories. Some man or woman on the street.

More people showed up, Natasha didn’t recognize their names but they told stories about what she’d done. A schoolteacher who’d been on the street in D.C. Natasha had waved her away from the fighting. A housewife from Connecticut who described how Natasha had apprehended a group of kids from her neighborhood—they’d managed to get their hands on Chitauri weapons. The Black Widow had gone into the building and she’d brought all the kids out. They actually had some video footage. Some handler at SHIELD hadn’t done his damn job. A graphic designer in New York, he’d been in a cab that day, it had overturned and the aliens were coming at them. She’d gotten them off and away so he could flee.

The stories kept coming. Some were gossipy and full of innuendo trying to figure out who she was dating. Natasha just skipped those. 

There were people from France who appeared in some interviews. Others from Canada. Call-in shows had callers from all over the world including a girl who only identified herself as Greta—she told the story about being trapped in a sex trafficking ring for over a year and how the Black Widow not only took the ring apart, she rescued Greta and more than a hundred other girls. Black Widow wasn’t just America’s hero or Russia’s agent, she was a hero for the whole world.

It was—beyond belief.

There were so many news pieces, think pieces, and even radio talk shows and Vloggers online. Pacing away from the sofa, she returned to her kitchen and got another glass of water. Her throat was dry and her mouth tasted like copper and soot. Sweat dampened her neck and she couldn’t shake the stories they were telling—these people…

_“Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight wherever you are in the world, it’s Progressive Talk’s Hero Hour and my name is Win Michaels, and I’m your host! We want to hear about your heroes. We’ve got Tony Stark back in the news, but when isn’t he? But that was some exciting stuff this week in New York as Iron Man defused those bombs with an assist from the Black Widow herself and didn’t she look fine while she was doing it. How awesome is that to have her and all the Avengers back? Do you have a favorite one? What do you want to talk about… and we’re going live on the air with our first caller… Ladyhawke—love your name Ladyhawke from Iowa. What did you want to talk about today?”_

_“Hi Win, great show, I listen every day and I wanted to talk about the things we don’t see the media or anyone else talking about. I want to talk about how much these heroes give up to save lives, save the world, and save people like you and me—but who saves them when people like Secretary Ross try to turn them in his personal soldiers or the world plays tug of war over who they belong to and whose rules they should follow? When do we, as the people, protect our heroes from our politicians and greed?”_

Laura.

That was Laura…

Her chest squeezed.

“Natasha…”

The drumming in her ears was like thunder.

“Natasha… you’re hyperventilating. You need to bring your oxygen consumption under control.”

Laura called in to some radio show to defend her and called out Ross by name?

Laura?

“Natasha!” Friday’s sudden volume jerked her head up. “Inhale for a four-count. 1-2-3-4. Hold. Now exhale. 1-2-3-4.”

She repeated the pattern three times more. The clips had paused and muted. Bit by bit the wild hammer of her heart calmed and she managed to unclench her fists. She’d dug a couple of half-moons into her palms, breaking the skin on one.

Breathing steadier, she murmured, “I’m fine, Friday.”

“No, Natasha you are not. However, your pulse and respiration are stabilizing. This was not like previous episodes.”

She shook her head. “No. No bad memories.” No memories at all. More like horrific nightmares about what _might_ happen. If Ross or someone like him learned about Laura and the kids. Why the hell would she do that?

“Your respiration is leveling. Heart rate is still at 93 beats per minute. Can you attempt to calm further?”

A little laugh broke through the cold fist squeezing her chest and her heart. “I can… please tell me I don’t have the whole team on their way to get front row tickets to the panic attack.”

Panic attack.

A little humiliating. Normally she could break those a lot faster. Normally, she didn't give in to them at all. 

“I was thirty seconds from alerting your authorized list when you began responding. The physiological markers did not match earlier episodes, hence my hesitation. Please mind your step, you let go of the glass and it broke.”

The warning had her glancing down. Broken glass and water droplets all over the floor.

Wonderful.

“Thank you again.”

“Of course.”

While Natasha cleaned up the glass, Friday went a little quiet, then she said, “Natasha? May I ask what the source of distress was?”

“The last audio recording…”

“The radio show, it aired on…” She listed off the date and the satellite station. “The show is played in a dozen countries and has an estimated listenership of 18 million.”

Natasha was going to throw up. She pressed her hands flat against the counter and took several deep breaths of air.

“Audio comparison match from Ladyhawke to Laura Barton?”

“One moment…” Though Friday sounded vaguely concerned, Natasha pushed away from the counter and opened the fridge. She pulled out the bottle of vodka, uncapped the top and then took a very long drink of the frost-chilled alcohol. It burned all the way down. Leaning against the fridge, she stared at the ceiling, waiting.

“With distortions, I have an 87% match. I am currently searching for a clean audio file as the one we have in the clips is a recording of a recording.” That many layers deep and they still got an 87% match?

Natasha was going to kill her. If she had her phone on her, she’d call her and yell at her. Probably good she didn’t have her phone. One, she never yelled at Laura. Two, she didn’t want to kill her. Only she did.

“Does Clint know?”

“I am unaware of whether Mr. Barton reviewed this clip or not. Though some of the information filtered through the team last week, most of it was funneled straight to Ms. Carter. I believe Captain Rogers caught some of the television news snippets as did Sergeant Barnes. Boss received a briefing packet, but he was also preoccupied.”

As they’d detailed during the debriefing the day before.

Testing her ribs, she found them only vaguely sore. She needed to go slam her fists into a speedbag. Or something.

Why? Why? Why would Laura risk exposure?

Even as the thoughts tumbled through her, she sucked in a deeper breath.

_Think, Natasha._

Act.

Don’t react.

Laura would have done it to protect her. She had been irked by the fact that dropping the charges hadn’t included clearing her. The kids heard the news and Lila and Coop had both been upset at school. The name-calling. The allegations. Now, a chance to clear her appeared—if not legally at least in the public arena.

Blowing out a breath, Natasha said, “Friday, you can stop searching for the clean copy. I know it was her.”

“The message she offered was very positive,” Friday said and Natasha couldn’t argue with that.

“Okay, I think I need a break from all of this—and I should probably go check in with the others.” They’d given her space and she appreciated it. The debriefing the day before had been uncomfortable for them, detailing the investigation. Their reluctance to fill her in had more to do with avoiding relieving a very painful week for them. But at the same time, there were details that came up—the fact the Mandarin had wiped out all the bodies.

He had a ring that could do that. She'd seen it herself with the monks. Horrific thing. Course, most of what The Mandarin had done was horrific. Tony had figured out some of the rings, she offered her notes. That part of the conversation had sucked. But she wouldn’t cut herself a break even when Steve gave her the look, the look that said that was exactly what he and James had been talking about.

The problem was if she gave in, even once, she’d be tempted to give in again. She would yield when she died and not a moment before. Anything else? Anything else would kill her. The days in those cells, tThe Mandarin’s mind games, the drowning, the suffocation… she survived it because she wouldn’t yield. Now that she was out, she refused to yield now.

“Actually, I’m going to take a shower—you know if anyone asks.” Her skin crawled.

In the bathroom, she got the water turned on before she stripped. Once under the hot water, she braced her hands to the wall and let it pound against her. At least her ribs didn’t sting as much.

They had the memory machine.

The Mandarin was dead.

They found Doctor Strange—or he’d found them.

Sooner or later, Logan would come out from wherever he was hiding. Maybe she should call Remy. She owed him a call regardless.

She was home for Christmas.

All good things.

Just keep counting the good things.

Twenty minutes later and dressed again, she pushed the damp hair away from her face as she headed for the door. She’d been retreated to her rooms for long enough. She still wanted to see Wanda and check in on Sam. According to Friday, they had a lot more of the clips to review, but she would save those for later.

“Natasha?” Friday’s voice stopped her at the door. The AI had been quiet since she’d gone to shower. “Ms. Potts is on the line for you. Video call.”

The balance she’d regained slipped a little. “Give us some privacy please, Friday, and seal the door. My authorization only.”

“Understood, Natasha.”

Retreating from the door, she blew out a breath and grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen—no more broken glasses for a while—then returned to the sofa. A holo screen formed over the table and she schooled her expression and got her breathing under control. Friday gave her a moment, then the screen filled in and Pepper leaned forward abruptly.

“Oh my god, you really are okay.” Relief drenched every word. “Natasha…”

“You look great,” Natasha told her, studying everything about her. The shadows smudging the underside of her eyes said she wasn’t sleeping well. But the bruise she’d likely gotten when they hit her face in the van was gone and while she looked a little pale, her eyes were bright and a flush put some color in her cheeks.

Pepper steepled her hands together, pressing them against her lips as she blinked rapidly. The tears shimmering there left Natasha’s throat scratchy.

“I’m going to be fine,” she told her. “I’m back. I’m in one piece. The Mandarin is dead. So are most of the people who worked for him.” At least, she’d killed a lot. In the not too far distant future, she would be taking a hunting trip and make sure there was nothing left to crawl back out of the shadows. There were always more.

Natasha would make sure there were none.

“They took you,” Pepper said, the tears in her eyes echoing in her voice. “I saw him stab you—all that fighting—you did that for me. You… he took _you_ instead of me.”

“And I’m glad he did.” Every word was absolute truth. At the shock in Pepper’s eyes, she spread her hands. “Pepper, he would have killed you. He would have tortured you, horrifically. He would have recorded each ugly moment to make sure Tony experienced every ounce of your pain. Then he would have killed you and left you in the Stark Tower in Hong Kong—to be destroyed with it.” After Tony told her about the bombs, that last pieces of those threats made sense.

Despite the graphic picture Natasha had painted, Pepper’s distressed expression calmed. Pepper was a detail-oriented woman. Those threats were a dangling loose end.

“The articles and letters about you, the ones security turned up, which cited you as being what kept Tony from going over the edge? How you were rehabilitating the Stark image. The Mandarin didn’t want it rehabilitated, he wanted to humiliate Tony. He wanted to prove to the world that Tony Stark couldn’t even save his lover or his company or his buildings. He wanted to use you to make a very loud statement, a horrific display for one man—because Tony bested him and made him look like a fool.”

Pepper frowned. “The son of a bitch wanted to fridge me?”

There she was. Natasha didn’t smile, she just nodded. “It was never about you. It was about Tony. It wasn’t about me.” No matter how personal or intimate the torture had been or his attempts to break her. Despite the research and the games and his attempt to co-opt Natasha, owning her was about sticking it to Tony. Just like killing Pepper had been. “We were just a means to an end.”

“The misogynistic pig is dead?”

“Very.” And she would confirm that. She believed what they’d told her, but she wanted to review the helmet data. She hadn’t pressed for it yet, but it was on her list.

Natasha had been unconscious when he went down.

“For what it’s worth, I cut his hand off.” That much she did know.

The smile Pepper wore was just this side of bloodthirsty and the hunch in her shoulders eased as she straightened. “That is worth—a great deal.” Hands still clasped, she seemed to be studying Natasha with the same intensity Natasha studied her. Still, Nat kept her expression steady. “I don’t know how to thank you. You saved our lives. You… you did everything I asked and so much more.”

“You put yourself through BARF to give them critical information. You put yourself through a nightmarish experience for you _again_ to help me. You don’t have to thank me, Pepper.” The fact she’d done it was humbling.

“He stabbed you, Natasha.”

“I know. I’m fine.”

“I see it in my dreams…” Pepper blew out a shuddering breath. “I haven’t closed my eyes once since it happened without seeing it again. Even though BARF—or SPARK—Tony renamed it.”

Natasha knew.

“When I was going through it, it was like being there and not. I experienced it, but I also had distance. It’s been a blessing and a curse.” She licked her lips. “I didn’t know what else to do to help you. Tony wanted me to stay at the Compound, but I couldn’t—I had to go.”

“It’s all good, Pepper. You did great. I don’t know if they could have found me without you.” Or if she could have gotten out. Ever. “I’m alive because of you.” She could give her that much because it was a firm truth.

“Really?” The desperate glimpse of hope.

“Really. But you should be careful… you saved my life, now I owe you.” Natasha spread her hands. “You never know what I’ll do to protect you now.”

A slow smile creased Pepper’s face, a true one. “I have a very good idea. But you don’t owe me anything… except a wine date.”

Natasha grimaced. “Only if I pick the wine.”

Pepper stared at her for a moment, her mouth in a silent ‘O.’ Then she snapped it shut with a little click. Her lower lip jutted for the barest moment, and then she had to press a hand to her mouth when a chuckle escaped. Natasha just raised her brows and then Pepper let out a real laugh.

“Okay,” she admitted, laughing as she wiped at the sudden dampness on her cheeks. “That’s fair.”

“I’m just saying, I don’t know that I’ll ever be a fan of gravelly soil.”

Pepper threw her head back and laughed for real. “Oh, God… You want to know something?”

“Sure.”

“I gave it all away. Actually, I had most of it destroyed and I gave the rest of it away.”

“Good,” Natasha told her in all seriousness. “It was _terrible_.”

“It was not,” Pepper argued, straightening. “It was… unique.”

“Which is a polite person’s way of saying it’s shit.”

“Natasha.”

“What? I’m Russian, if it’s swill, we might drink it but we’re not going to call it vodka.”

Fresh laughter pealed out of her and she clapped her hands. “Fine, you win. It was shit. Even if I liked it to begin with, I absolutely do not like it now.”

“Good,” she told her firmly. “When do you get back?”

“After the holidays,” Pepper said. “Probably just before the New Year. Maybe, I might extend it.” A fresh bit of color touched her cheeks and Natasha narrowed her eyes.

“Having a good time then?”

“Honestly?”

“Well, I’m good with bald-face lies if they’re good ones, but it’s totally up to you.”

Pepper snorted, but her expression shifted. She glanced away from the screen a moment and then leaned forward, an almost conspiratorial air about her. “Marc has been amazing. When I can’t sleep, he sits up with me. He doesn’t try to force me to talk, but if I want to talk he listens. He’s—he’s exceptionally kind and I don’t know that I would have been able to do this without him.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Now that I know you’re okay…”

They hadn’t told her?

At her frown, Pepper waved a hand. “Tony sent a message through Friday. They told me they’d found you and you were alive, but no other details. But until I actually saw you…”

“Good. That he told you.” If he hadn’t, she would have had to smack him. “I should have reached out sooner.”

“No, you reached out when you were ready and that’s fine. I—” Pepper choked up again and touched her fist to her heart.

“I know.” The fact Pepper was alive, she looked well, and she was laughing, all of it settled Natasha. Getting Pepper out had been the goal, she’d done that. She’d kept her safe. “I’ll be fine,” she repeated. “Now maybe you can really enjoy your vacation.”

“Maybe.” Pepper wiped at her eyes again. “As soon as I’m back, let’s make time?”

“Just call me. Or call Friday—I can’t find my phone.”

“Oh…” A wet laugh. “I have it.”

“What?”

“Your phone it was in your clutch and you pushed it all into my bag. I didn’t even realize I had it until I was here. It all ended up in my suitcase. Your clutch, the phone—Tony’s gift.”

“Oh.” Natasha had forgotten she’d done that. At the time, she’d wanted her hands free.

“I’ll have Happy express everything back to you, I should have done it already. I didn’t think about it.”

“It’s fine, really. I’m glad it didn’t end up in the bottom of that ravine.”

“No, none of us did. Are you sure you’re really going to be fine?”

“I promise.” It was a promise she could keep. “I’m pretty tough.”

“Yes, you are.” With a fist over her heart again, Pepper added, “Take care of yourself?”

“Always do.”

“No,” Pepper said simply. “You don’t. It’s something you and Tony have in common. It’s why you look after him and, hopefully, he’s looking after you.”

Yeah, she wasn’t touching that one other than to say, “He’s been great.”

“Good.”

The quiet stretched between them, not fraught but Pepper didn’t seem to want to hang up. A feeling she proved when she said, “I feel like we’ll disconnect and you’re going to disappear.”

“Well you know, I heard that’s how these new-fangled contraptions work. Video on, you see me. Video off, you don’t. We’re practically the Jetsons.”

That earned her another laugh. “Okay. I’m going now. I’ll get your things to you and I’ll call as soon as I’m back.”

“Until then…”

When the call ended, Natasha sagged back against the sofa and closed her eyes. Tired weighed down on her. Too much raw emotion. Opening the bottle of water, she drained it in three swallows before she stood.

“Resume active, Friday.”

“Are you well, Natasha?”

“You know, I think the jury is still out on that. Where is everyone?”

Tony, Steve and James were in Steve’s office talking to Sam. Vision was patrolling the property. Sharon was in her office. Clint was still in Medical with Helen. Wanda… was in the training room. Destination in mind, Natasha made her way from the residential hall to the training halls. No one was in the common area, the fact the other four were meeting in Steve’s office suggested they wanted some privacy so she detoured away from that hall rather than look like she was spying.

Though, admittedly, she was a little curious. It could wait. The sound of music drifted out the doors as she approached. Natasha didn’t recognize it, though it had a good beat. The lyrics were in Sokovian. Something about wanting more and more, the urgency in the song seemed to convey the demand by repeating the lyrics over and over.

Eh.

Catchy.

Nudging the door open, she slipped inside quietly. Wanda was on the far side of the gym, moving through stretches and strikes. She alternated, a long deep stretch, then several fierce strikes. Folding her arms, she studied her form. It was a little too tight; she was not hitting her full range of motion. If anything, she seemed more distracted than focused.

Sweat soaked the back of her tank top, suggesting she’d been at this a while. As she finished the series of strikes, she transitioned into a stretch. Abandoning her post, Natasha strolled across the gym floor toward her. “Deepen that, you’re not completing the reach.”

Wanda straightened and whirled around. Her gloomy expression brightened. “Natasha.”

“So they say,” she told her easily. “Get back in that stretch and do it right. You short yourself, you’re going to end up with an injury.”

Next to her, Natasha stepped into the same stretch Wanda had been attempting. Every muscle in her body trembled, protesting the sudden push but Natasha breathed through it. She needed to get some deep stretches of her own in.

Disbelief rolled through Wanda’s expression but when Natasha kept eyeing her, she released a grunt and stepped back into the stretch. Since her muscles were already warmed, she deepened it beautifully.

“Much better. Training is an excellent way to cope with troubling emotions, to restore your focus, or to work off stress, but only if you do it correctly. Otherwise, all you’re going to do is injure yourself and create more problems.” She needed to get back in her studio. Full stretches. Pointe shoes. Music. Bleed it all out. At the end of the count she relaxed from the stretch and straightened.

One look at Wanda’s expression and Natasha braced herself. The younger woman threw her arms around her. Catching her, Natasha put a hand to the back of her head and held her. She stunk a little, hard work and sweat did that to a person and she shook, she’d probably overdone it. But Natasha didn’t push her away or snap at her, she just hugged her. The wild buzz under her skin accelerated, but she ignored it. The alarm was for something that _wasn’t_ happening. All Wanda wanted was a hug, some reassurance, and Natasha could damn well do that.

“I have been so worried about you, if Friday hadn’t let me know you were recovering… I might have blasted my way into the Tower.”

Natasha chuckled. “Well, I appreciate the sentiment. I’m going to be fine.” She eased back and studied Wanda. “You’re running the risk of overdoing it. How long have you been in here?”

“A couple of hours? I’ve been restless and going a little stir-crazy.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Okay. Let’s walk and you can cool down, then you shower and eat. Have you been hydrating?”

Grinning, Wanda rolled her eyes. “I have. I could hear you in my head giving me little nudges.”

“Oh, even better.” Letting her hands hang loose at her sides, Natasha nodded to the outer loop of the training room and Wanda fell into step with her. The walk would do them both good. “I should have reached out sooner…”

“No, no,” Wanda said, waving her off. “I knew you needed to recover. You were—you were kind of a mess.”

“A little bit,” Natasha agreed. “How are you, after the fight? That was a little harder for you—that was people not just equipment or robots.”

“Easier than I thought in some ways. Harder in others. I do _not_ like the suit.” The various opinions on wearing Tony’s suit seemed to be a consensus. It worked for Tony, but no one wanted to take it from him. That was excellent. “I worried we wouldn’t be in time… the area was very, very strange.”

“From what I recall of it, I agree.” Though she didn’t want to think too closely on that. “How about everything else? I know you’ve all been very preoccupied with finding me.”

“We were, but in a weird way, I think it brought us all closer. There seems to be much less tension. With me and Vis, too.”

“Yeah?” Natasha eyed her. “You’re good with that?”

“I am,” Wanda admitted. “He was… very kind to me.”

“You did good, from everything I heard. You were—immeasurable in helping the team. You offered support. You offered your talents. You helped stop The Mandarin from using his mind control.”

Wanda’s face went stony for a moment, violent dislike reflecting in her eyes. “That horrible thing. I’d never felt anything like that, I couldn’t let him hurt Steve that way. What he wanted him to do...”

“I know. You stopped him. Thank you.” Natasha meant it. When that came up in the debrief, Steve had been very circumspect, but she understood what he hadn’t said. James had, too. How could they not? They’d both been there and she’d tried to help Steve, too but it had been so chaotic.

“I just wish…”

“We all do,” Natasha reminded her. “We do what we can. You did great. Don’t tell yourself anything else.”

A blush stained her cheeks. “I have missed you.”

“Well, I’m back. Of course that opens up new problems…”

With a frown, Wanda slowed and faced her. “Like what?”

“Christmas shopping.”

The widening of her eyes was almost comical. “That’s next week.”

Natasha nodded slowly. “I know.”

“I have so much shopping to do…I mean I have done some and we got the tree, and it’s decorated. Laura and the kids are coming…” It was like opening the valve, Wanda described the holiday plans they’d made so far and how she had been working with Vision on shopping ideas. The first holiday with Vision, he’d been more bemused than anything. This was his second holiday season and he was eager to be involved.

A rustling sound snared her attention and Natasha turned in time to see the splinter golden light circling dead center in the gym at speed. Wanda frowned, and red coated her hands and her eyes glowed as she cast a fierce red bubble to shield them.

Doctor Strange strode through his portal. The ring on his hand visible, but Natasha put a hand on Wanda’s shoulder. “It’s all right… he’s an ally.”

Strange looked from her to Wanda and he raised a single brow. It was Natasha’s turn to slide in front of Wanda even as the bubble lowered a fraction.

“Ms. Romanoff,” he said, snapping his attention to her. “Do you have time for a consult?”

“Have you ever heard of calling ahead?”

“Yes. It’s a waste of time. We need to talk.”


	10. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange has some answers and more questions

**Chapter Ten**

**Magic**

**Natasha**

The man’s bedside manner was atrocious. He motioned to the gold circle, which was still burning. Beyond it was what looked like a living room—or a richly appointed museum with heirloom furniture. For all that, he stared at her levelly. Despite the urgency of his words, his tone remained even.

“Well, you’re here,” she said. “You might as well close that…”

“Actually,” he said. “I was going to ask you to come here.”

“Where is here?”

The door to the training room slammed open and Steve strode across the floor with James next to him and Tony, Sam, and Sharon mere steps behind them even as Vision descended through the ceiling to land between the wizard and her.

Wanda hadn’t moved away, her presence at Natasha’s back warm and nervous. The air crackled with her energy and it tickled over her flesh, like the static gathering just before the electrical storm hit.

“You need to learn to use a phone,” Tony called.

With a sigh, Strange snapped the portal shut then looked at Natasha as he removed the ring. “I’m putting it away.” The ease in his casual manner was far preferable to his gruff tone.

Natasha caught Steve’s searching gaze even as she flattened her hand and motioned it was fine. “We were just talking about a movie night, guys.”

“Who is this guy?” Sam asked.

“He’s a doctor.”

“Ms. Romanoff,” Doctor Strange said, ignoring the rest. “If you have a moment.” The air actually seemed to snap and a faint breeze brushed Natasha’s hair. James’ eyes narrowed and when she glanced from him to the place in front of her, he shifted. The guys had made a loose circle but James took the spot right in front of her. Even with Vision there, she wasn’t comfortable with either the android or the wizard at her back.

Turning, Natasha put her hands on Wanda’s biceps gripping her gently. It wasn’t enough to startle her, but it did pull the younger woman’s attention from Strange to Natasha. Even with the arrival of the rest of the team—motion in her periphery had her cutting her gaze to the side and up. Clint stood just inside along one of the struts, his bow in hand.

Attention back on Wanda, she gave Wanda’s arms a gentle squeeze. “Hey, eyes on me.” Pitching her voice low did what shouting wouldn’t have, it broke the tension holding her in a fixed, battle ready stance. The red swirling along her skin said more for how on edge Wanda was than anything else.

“Is he a friend?” Wanda asked in a low voice.

“Undetermined,” Natasha told her truthfully. “But so far he hasn’t been an enemy. I need you to pull it together, take a breath.”

All at once the red coalescing in the air around them withdrew and the red in her eyes faded. “Sorry, he startled me.” She glanced past Natasha then back. Fortunately, everyone else seemed to be taking a beat to let Natasha handle this.

“A little bit,” Natasha agreed, squeezing her arms once before turning back to face him. She offered her left hand for Wanda to hold and the younger woman clasped it immediately. Braced against the contact, Natasha focused on Strange. “Do you have answers or questions?”

He passed a look over the gathered then back to her. “I have both. In my experience, these are conversations best had in private.”

“Well you should consider calling ahead next time. In my experience, people dropping in without warning to a highly secure facility are looking for trouble.” She flashed him a smile. “I know I always am.”

The doctor actually huffed a laugh at that. Well, who knew? The doc might have a sense of humor.

“Duly noted, Ms. Romanoff. I will make a point of notifying you before I _drop_ in again.”

“All I’m asking.” Because she needed his help. Glancing to Steve, Natasha raised her brows. Where did he want to have this conversation?

“Sam, Sharon… could you both give us some time here? Vision? Secure the building and Wanda?” He glanced to where Natasha held her hand.

Natasha shook her head. No, she did not want Wanda staying for this. Doctor Strange had made her uneasy for one and as for the rest? Enough people knew about Natasha’s medical issues.

“Are you okay if I go?” Wanda asked, her wary attention split between Natasha and the doctor.

“I’m great,” Natasha assured her. “Go shower, get something to eat… I’ll find you a little later. We’ll make time to do some online shopping and compare notes.”

“Oh.” Brightening, Wanda gave her another swift hug and Natasha patted her arm. “I’ll see you later.” Then the younger woman was crossing the training room, giving Strange a wide berth to join Sharon and Sam. Sam frowned like he wanted to stay and Sharon clearly had questions, but neither of them challenged Steve.

As soon as Vision phased through the roof, Tony said, “Secure, Friday?”

“Secure, Boss.”

Arms folded, he stared at Strange. For his part, the doctor appeared bemused by all the discussion. Natasha moved to stand closer to James and Steve had his shield on his back as he joined her. Clint descended from the rafters.

“So we’re having a group discussion again?” Strange clarified as he studied her.

“They already know and I’ll tell them anyway, so—you needed to talk to me?”

“Yes.” His amusement dried up and he straightened. “Taking out my phone again, do try not to get offended.”

Natasha smirked. “You really are a jackass.”

“So I’ve been told,” he said, almost agreeably. He hit a couple of buttons on the phone, and then closed the distance to where she stood. James’ whole frame tensed, but Natasha slid her hand onto his back, just below his shoulder blades as she leaned forward. It steadied both of them, so she soaked that in as Strange turned the screen toward her.

Tony circled around to Steve’s other side even as Clint joined them and they were all looking at the screen.

“Your scans show severe damage to areas of your cerebral cortex, particular around the thalamus and hippocampal formations.” They’d already had this discussion, but Natasha waited him out. “Now based on the scarring here…” He enhanced an area. “And here… I would say you had an intracranial operation at some point. Though that was not detailed in your records.”

He glanced at her.

“We might have figured that one out, but it’s still rather indistinct.” She didn’t say the number of things they didn’t have records on for her was long and vast.

“Based on your medical history, I’m not surprised.” Disapproval hovered in those words. “The areas of concern, however, are these…” He moved a scarred finger over the dark lines. “I would like to get a sample of it…”

“Excuse me?” Tony interjected.

“If you would permit me to finish,” Strange said. “There is a small surgery that can be performed, minimally invasive, and it would let me remove a small section…”

“No,” Steve said it almost reflexively and James had gone so rigid Natasha split her attention from the screen to him then held up a hand.

“Let him finish.” Ice coalesced at the base of her spine, but she kept her focus on what was in front of her. A possible answer. “And when you finish,” she said, eyeing Strange. “Be very specific about the goal here. If it’s just to root around under the hood, that won’t fly.”

The swift flash of distaste in his eyes offered her a little insight. “Ms. Romanoff, based on your history and my own observations you suffer from mental blocks both from the physical architecture of your brain caused by chemical and other artificial means and those conditioned through psychological manipulation.”

Drugs and electricity. Yep. She knew that. Mind-fucked? Yep. Check on that, too.

“The electrical activity in these blocked areas is still present. I reviewed the before and after scans of that device you used…”

“BARF,” she supplied.

“SPARK,” Tony snapped, shooting her a look. At least the impatient hostility was pointed at her.

Leaning against James’ arm, she nodded. Gradually, the rock of his muscles eased a little. Hooking her pinky around Steve’s she stared at Strange.

With an impatient sigh, Strange gave Tony an almost dismissive look that might have been funny if she wanted to bait a war of the egos. Not right now. Nor was she in the mood for insults.

“The device relied on electrical impulses and it—jumped the block.” He paged through the images and Tony leaned forward abruptly with his own phone and then did something to scan it before throwing the whole thing up on a holo screen.

“Side-by-side comparisons, Baby Girl.”

The image shifted, the before and the after.

“You had records for what happened during the device…the brain wave activity.” Strange motioned.

Steve squeezed her pinky gently and James shifted, lifting his arm slightly and she settled under it even as she slid her hand into Steve’s. The contact versus the horror playing out in front of her?

She’d take the contact.

Figuring this out was vital and she didn’t have time for weakness. Not right now.

“If you can run this in ten-second increments beginning with the initialization of the device to the moment Ms. Romanoff lost consciousness.”

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose at the doctor’s direction, but Friday began staggering the images. There was a sudden surge of activity, it was so small though, when the device initialized. “Is this the first time I used it during the recognition test or the last one?”

She’d gotten a few memories during that particular experiment. Not the least of which was the first time she’d been introduced to James. All the other horror aside, she clung to that particular memory.

“During the final attempt, Natasha,” Friday said. “The one directly before the coma.”

Steve’s hand flexed, but she squeezed his in response. They’d all been on the quinjet. Clint had been taken. She glanced over to him. They needed to know who the hell those people had been—Alexei, but who else. She’d gotten back a memory of being handed off to the Red Room, another of Alexei taunting her while Federov pumped her full of the serum or whatever chemical cocktail had been that day, and meeting James after her graduation while she had barely healed from the procedure.

There was definitely activity between the isolated areas and the rest of her brain. Then… what the hell was that?

“Stop,” Strange said in the commanding voice and Natasha dug her fingers into Steve’s hand. He didn’t let go. “This is the moment you overwhelmed the block, that is a minor cerebral hemorrhage, it burst.”

“There’s no such thing as a _minor_ cerebral hemorrhage,” Tony argued. “You’re telling me we actually ruptured a blood vessel in her brain with SPARK?”

“I’m saying that the increased electrical activity overwhelmed the architecture of your brain tissue, the scarring here and here, it was disrupted. The barrier—or whatever these striations are, they weren’t as prominent then but they were present.”

“Could radiation have anything to do with it?” She was spit balling.

“Possibly, we obviously can discount nothing,” Strange stated. “Nothing about your case is standard. Nothing about it fits the parameters of anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Will it heal on its own?” Clint asked and she glanced at him. “Without anyone else trying to play God in there?”

“Again,” Strange said. “Anything is possible. However, the fugue states, the episodes of memory coupled with bleeding and stress suggest that even if it is, the current process could cause more damage in the long run. Even you, Ms. Romanoff,” he said facing her again. “You are remarkable. A product of genetic manipulation, subjected to chemical and biological enhancements and modifications—I won’t even begin to approach the psychological efforts on top of all of that. You are—a one of a kind patient with a one of a kind problem.”

He was absolutely fascinated.

“You know, I don’t care about any of that. I want to get cleared to use Tony’s device.” She ignored his glare. “Basically all I’m hearing is the device stimulated the areas we want stimulated and broke through the blocks. The results repaired the physical damage. Sounds win win.”

“It also made your _brain_ bleed,” Clint said pivoting to stare at her, firing each word like a bullet.

“I recovered. Being unconscious makes resting pretty straightforward.”

“Ne delayte eto shutkoy,” James almost growled the words

“Ya ne!” She pulled away to meet his glare. She wasn’t making light of it. “Ya istselil!” The device had triggered memories; it had triggered a physiological reaction in her brain.

“Vy slyshite to, chto khotite uslyshat'.” Clint entered the fray and Tony frowned as he shot him a look and so did Steve.

“No, I’m not just hearing what I _want_ to hear,” she countered. If he wanted to make it an argument for all of them, then they could do that in English. “I’m listening to what Strange is saying. There was a blockage, I used BARF, it triggered memories accessing an area of my brain affected by the memory blocks, the chair or whatever the hell that memory machine is.”

“And then it made your brain bleed.” Tony stared at her. His tech had hurt her and it was making him crazy. Someday, he would need to learn separate the man from the machine. It might actually save his sanity. Course, she wasn’t one to talk.

“Sometimes you have to hurt to get where you’re going,” she told him. “Was the headache after brutal? Was it hard to see? Did I need a ton of rest? Yes to all of the above. Something you…” She smacked James with the back of her hand against his chest as she straightened and ceased leaning on him. With one last squeeze, she released Steve’s hand. Pacing away from them, she looked at Strange. “The brain bleed—_healing_ that is what healed that four percent?”

“Conjecture. Speculation.” Strange shook his head. “I cannot give you an absolute. But the evidence suggests that by creating a physical injury in the region of the scarring and allowing your—admittedly exceptional healing gift courtesy of the serum to do its job properly and without interference, you were able to restore that four percent.”

“Is that why you want to take a sample of the dark region? To trigger her serum to attempt to heal that piece of architecture?” Tony had begun to fidget. Never a good sign. Steve, on the other hand, had gone fiercely quiet, his attention laser-focused on the conversation unfolding in front of him.

“Partially, though I suspect that would merely be a happy byproduct if it did make that happen. My concern is that the dark area is malignant tissue or foreign body that doesn’t belong there—it could be a result of your alien exposure or some other experiment over the years. Either way, it’s a question mark. As long as it’s a question mark it makes me hesitant about the rest.”

Despite the fact he said nothing, Clint’s disapproval echoed loudly.

“What are the risks of the surgery?”

“The same risks as there are with any surgery—in this one—more of a discomfort. You’d need to be awake…”

Natasha tipped her head back and exhaled.

Steve just shook his head and then he stared at her. Was she really contemplating this?

“Anytime you specifically target a region of the brain, you need the patient awake and able to interact. Not all patients remember it…” He grimaced. “Poor choice of words.”

Pinned to a cold metal table, the peeling of her skin back, the sound of a saw, the insertion of their devices and then answering their questions…

“We are discussing hypotheticals. Exploratory surgery is an option. As is triggering an episode while we monitor via a CT Scan. Another would be to actively use the device—”

“I’m not authorizing the use of SPARK on a fishing expedition,” Tony snapped.

Even over Tony’s objections the doctor continued, “While I don’t endorse experimenting with unknown technology, nor can I predict that the result with be the same the second time around, it’s another option. Ideally, we would trigger an episode first. It’s the least invasive; get a look at the activity during the episode. Gather the sample next, run some tests and monitor for what your brain does after, and once we have those results, we can plan our next step.”

“Frankly, Doctor,” Steve said slowly. “This doesn’t sound like a course of action so much as a course of exploration. Have you considered the potential damage of each of these steps?”

“I have,” Strange said, facing Steve. “I weighed it against her previous reactions and medical history. The presence of the serum in her system affords us some flexibility and more options.”

“And you just want to cut her head open and go sightseeing?” The skepticism in Clint’s voice had given away to real anger and they were going in circles. Steve or Tony or Clint would challenge something he said and Strange would offer some reasonable response, but not once did he guarantee results or act like he had all the answers.

James remained as quiet as she was. Folding her arms, she faced him. His pale gaze held hers. His pupils had constricted, his knuckles were white, and he was so deadly still. As uncomfortable as all of this was for her, she could imagine what he must be considering. Could he watch her go through that?

If the shoe was on the other foot, could she just stand there and let someone dig into his brain?

Could she have done what Steve did when James went back into cryo in Wakanda?

Before she remembered? Maybe.

Now?

_Dammit_.

“Why?” Natasha asked suddenly, wheeling around to face the others fully.

Strange looked at her. “Why?”

“Yes. Why? Two days ago, you finally showed up after Tony had been searching for you for weeks. We went over the scans, gave you the medical data, you asked a few questions and then you left. Today, you show up here—ready to do this, eager almost.” She studied him, tracking his breathing, his pupil dilation, the faint twitch in his fingers and the way his posture shifted when he flipped from doctor to arrogant surgeon then to whatever the hell his new job was.

She didn’t know wizards, but she did know men.

His micro expressions told a different story even when he wore his arrogance like his freestanding red cloak over there. As if drawn by her attention, the cloak seemed to shift.

Yeah. That shit was weird.

“Why the sudden urgency?” She took a step toward him. “Why do you want to help me?”

“Because, Ms. Romanoff, while I don’t believe your file contained near as much of your medical history as there must be, what was done to you was barbaric. I am quite possibly the only doctor in the world who would even be willing to try to help you, but more than that—I want to help. Before—” He held up his hands. “Your case alone would have fascinated me. Now? You deserve far more than you have received. You have a right to all your faculties, and if we can somehow give you the chance to reclaim them, then that’s a miracle I’d very much like to see happen. That said,” he concluded with a faint bow of his head. “This is not a decision you should enter into lightly. I will give you my word, however, I will be there each step of the way and I will keep you apprised of everything we are doing to let you make the most informed decision.”

“That’s great, Doc, she’s gonna need a minute.” Clint brushed past him and locked his gaze on hers. “In fact, Nat? A minute?” He nodded to the door and while he didn’t reach for her arm, the weight of his stare was enough.

“I’ll be right back,” she told the others. “Apparently, I need a minute.”

Anger coursed through Clint, it vibrated in his shoulders as he stalked to the door and shoved it open to the hall then led the way to another room. He yanked the door open and motioned for her to enter ahead of him.

“Friday,” Clint said. “Privacy mode. Zero recordings.”

“Natasha?” The query had Clint frowning, but Natasha shook her head.

“It’s fine, Friday. Clint and I need to talk—privately.”

“Privacy mode engaging. Due note, I will still be monitoring your vitals via the bracelet.”

“So noted,” she murmured, then the quiet draped them. When she opened her mouth, Clint held up a finger and shook his head.

The silence dragged and she paced away to let him catch his breath. Whatever he wrestled with, she wasn’t going to like. It was almost like Morocco all over again, when he’d practically shook with raw fury after she’d slipped out to do the mission without him. Her success had been compromised when she got caught in a series of car bombings throughout the city.

He’d found her then, one shoe off, covered in broken glass, bleeding from multiple injuries and her hearing had been shot. The next thirty-six hours, he’d confused the hell out of her. Ranting on the one hand and showing her absolute gentleness as he looked after her wounds.

Clint cared.

Being her best friend had to suck most of the time, but she got the lucky end of that deal.

“You need to stop and take a breath,” Clint said finally.

“My ribs are better and my breathing is fine,” she answered, pivoting to face him as he squared his shoulders.

“Funny,” he retorted, his tone dry. “You need to stop, Nat. You’ve been running since we found you in Vienna.”

“I’ve been running for a lot longer than that, Clint. I’ll stop when I’m dead.” She got it, but this… “This is different. This isn’t about Leonid or Alexei or a smuggling ring or Zemo or an alien entity.” She paused a beat. “At least I hope it isn’t on that last one.”

“Dammit, Tasha,” Clint swore, stalking forward. “Listen to me. Please?”

Expression neutral, she spread her hands. “I’m listening.”

“You have taken body blow after body blow and now—you’re standing in that training room half-convinced to let some wizard you met two days ago drill into your head.”

“I didn’t agree to it yet.”

His bland look told her he knew what she’d been thinking. “Kid, you gotta slow down. You gotta give the _rest_ of you time to catch up. I know… I know how important this is to you.”

“Do you?” She raised her brows. “Do you really? Do you have any idea what it is to only know part of who you are? What if you remembered the abuse but not your brother? What if you remembered Laura—meeting her? Maybe kissing her the first time? But you had no idea where Coop and Lila are?”

He flinched and she hated herself a little.

“Clint, you can’t understand. I don’t even understand. But the only person in my way to finding my daughter is _me_. And he’s right, I’ll heal. Maybe it will take days or weeks…but I will and if it means I find her…”

“You know she’s not a baby anymore, right?” The words landed like fists. “You know that finding her isn’t a matter of life and death? She’s—grown up Nat. She’s got to be in her forties. She has a whole life and probably a family.”

“So what? I should just write it off? You know, I had one. Gave it away. Fire sale. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get another. That will totally replace the one I had to give up?” The ice threading through her melted to lava.

“No, of course not, but wrecking yourself for no reason is not… you don’t know what will happen if he puts you through these things. Tests, Nat. Just like you said you always wanted to avoid. Experimental procedures. Poking around… for fuck’s sake, Natasha.” The last came out on a yell and rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me.” How was she supposed to make him understand…

“You can’t promise that,” he said flatly. “And maybe—looking back, you’ll find some peace in this new knowledge. But what about what else you remember? What happens when you undo all the things that made you Natasha Romanoff in the first place? What if you go in Natasha and you wake up Natalia Romanova? Or worse…you just wake up as the Black Widow? What happens then, Nat?”

“You want me to stop all of it,” she whispered. “To not get my memories back.”

He sighed, but he didn’t deny it. “I think I want my best friend to keep breathing. To be there this Christmas and the next one. I think I want to know I’ll always be able to have your back and that you didn’t sacrifice everything for an idea that will only ever torment you…if it doesn’t change you utterly.”

Nat opened her mouth, then closed it. What the hell was she supposed to say to that?

“Kid, you’ve been changing bit by bit since we found you, some of it’s great. You’ve found your boys. But some of it… just take a breath, Natasha. Step back. Give yourself time to actually heal before you start tearing yourself apart again. Really think about what you’re choosing here.”

Choosing.

“You really think remembering is going to change me? That I won’t be me anymore.”

“Can you tell me without a shadow of a doubt, that you won’t? Can you tell me that the idea has never crossed your mind? That I’m insane to be worried about this?”

It was Natasha’s turn to run her hands through her still damp hair and pace away from him. The yank she gave her hair helped to ground her but there was a gaping maw where Clint kept punching away at her and it ached.

“Tell me, Nat. Tell me if they hadn’t stripped you of your memories, you would still have left the KGB. That you would have walked away from the Red Room. Tell me you would have taken my offer when I made it. Tell me Natalia Romanova would have done that.”

_“Compartmentalizing,” Natalia whispered in her ear. “We hide it even from ourselves. It is how we keep our secrets.”_

“If I had never given up my daughter I wouldn’t have forgotten,” she said slowly. “I did leave the Red Room. I left the KGB. I left it all.” She’d only gone back for James. “I had to leave her to keep her safe.”

“But that woman you were then…you don’t remember her. What pieces you’ve gotten back… they aren’t you, are they?”

The pieces that felt so real, that she experienced, they were her and they weren’t. Crossing over to one of the benches she sat down.

“Clint, I have to know what happened to her. I don’t care what happens to me.”

“I know you don’t, but _I do_.”

When he dropped onto the bench next to her, she leaned forward and clasped her hands.

“I told him he had to tell you,” Clint admitted. “When it was tearing him up—after he remembered. I knew it would drive you crazy and I told Bucky he had to tell you and now I wish I hadn’t.”

“That’s fair,” she said. “I can’t turn it off. I mean—we have that memory machine, I suppose we could figure it out and then…”

“That’s not funny,” he growled.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” she sighed the words. The dull ache throughout her whole body was back. “Clint, I can’t let what might happen stop me. Because one of the things that might happen is I never remember. James has to live with that knowledge alone and I—I get these little pieces. Fragments. For—a few seconds a couple a day ago, the idea I might be pregnant again hit me.”

“The vomiting.” It wasn’t even a question.

“The vomiting. The nausea. The—everything. I know I don’t want to talk about last week, but I got to remember when Mary was born and that’s kind of a gift. But now it hurts…” Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to shed them. “Then I thought, adaptable DNA—it happened before and we’re not celibate. Oh crap… and the feeling wasn’t joy or even anticipation.”

“Nat…”

“It was terror.” She turned her head to find him staring at her. He had his arm up and his hand opened and closed like he wanted to hug her. “I thought I might be pregnant—just a blip. A few seconds.” She could barely see past the burn. “It wasn’t joy or excitement or a thrill—there was dread and then there was terror and then denial. Because it was a _stupid_ idea. Even if it might be possible, after everything I went through, no pregnancy could survive that but it was a glimpse…”

She licked her lips and then leaned toward him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Her system housed a beehive for all the buzzing, but she didn’t pull away. It was Clint for fuck’s sake. Clint would never hurt her.

“It was a glimpse as to what Natalia had to have felt when she realized. Then it was nothing but me… and the knowledge that I already lost one—walked away from one—what the hell made me think I would get another chance? Or even deserved one.”

“Goddammit, Nat.”

“You want to know who I’ll be if I remember?” She stared at him. “So do I. But whether I’m Natalia or Natasha or Chernya Vdova. You’re still going to be my best friend, Idiot.”

He pressed his lips to the side of her head.

“I can do this without you if I have to,” she told him. “You don’t have to go through this.”

“Please don’t tell me something stupid like I can walk away, because I will break your damn leg in two places and we can hobble around together.”

A smile escaped and she sighed. “I really don’t want to do this without you.”

“You don’t have to… but can we at least _slow_ down from warp speed?”

“Would you?” She tilted her head and met his gaze. The silence dragged out, and gradually the pleading in his gaze quieted. When he sighed, she had her answer.

“Fine, but on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“What’s Laura getting me for Christmas?”

“Never happening.”

“C’mon, Nat…if she gets me something romantic and I get her something practical, I look like an ass. If I get her something romantic and she gets me something practical, I look like a fool.”

“So what you’re saying is you’re going to look like an idiot no matter what you do.”

“Pretty much.”

“You want my advice?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t.”

“Embrace it,” she told him soberly. Then swiped away the tears when he groaned.

“You suck.”

“I know, but I’m your best friend.”

“Forever,” he reminded her. Then pulled her in for a hug. “You’re my best friend, Kid. So you gotta do this thing, I’ll be there. You just have to deal with me kicking your ass if I have to.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Then because she wanted, she turned and wrapped her arms around him. He didn’t quite crush her with the hug, but he didn’t let her go either. “Idiot,” she whispered.

“_Umnik_,” he answered.

Minutes later, she led the way back to the main training room where Strange waited along with Steve, Tony, and James. Clint was a silent presence at her side and though her eyes were sore, they were dry.

“Have you come to a decision?” Strange asked, before he turned away from the other three. “Or do you need to consult with the whole committee?”

“I actually have some more questions, if we’re not taking up too much of your time.” Not that she was sure what his time would require. “And in the interests of comfort, we can probably adjourn this to the administrative wing and coffee?” Because she could use a gallon, liberally laden with vodka.

The cloak flew to Strange’s hand as he held it out and then nodded. “I would appreciate some tea if you have it.”

“Well lucky you Doc, we actually have a tea collection.” Of course, her suite might offer more privacy but it was _not_ stocked. This whole thing might have been easier at the Tower. But they managed. Friday cleared the common room for them and while she would have preferred it if someone went to set up the conference room, the guys stuck close.

Tony stewed over something and James remained distinctly unhappy, but it was Steve who leaned against the counter next to her as she got the tea steeping.

“You sure about this?”

“Nope,” she told him. “But something has to give and I have far more questions than answers.”

“What he’s proposing…”

“I haven’t made a decision yet.” Then because he needed to hear it, she glanced over to James then to him. “I wont until we’ve all talked.” They didn’t get to make the call for her. None of them.

But she wouldn’t rush forward without at least hearing their input. The fact Steve nearly sagged in relief as he rubbed a hand over his face told her she’d made the right call. Once the coffee carafes were full and teapot along with an extra kettle of boiling water, Steve pulled a tray of sandwiches out of the fridge. They carried all of it to the conference room.

Natasha glanced at Steve’s office as she passed it and almost smiled. Later. Maybe a lot later, but later, she promised herself.

Once they were secured and privacy mode engaged Tony leaned back in a chair with a coffee mug in hand. “I’m going on the record right now, that anything invasive, I’m not a fan of. Any kind of experimenting is right out.”

“Not really enamored of those myself,” Steve admitted.

“Thank you,” Clint said then glared at her. “At least they seem to be getting it now.”

“It doesn’t matter what any of us are fans of or approve,” James said in an icy tone. “Natalia will make the call. In this—especially in this…” And as much as he hated the idea, he wouldn’t take this from her. If she was going to risk her mind, it had to be her call.

She mouthed ‘thank you’ and he nodded once. When he pulled out a chair for her, she sank into it and she didn’t argue when he slid a sandwich in front of her or poured the tea.

“Were the Avengers always this dramatic?” Strange asked from where he sat, waiting. His cloak just hovered there in the air. “Because I’m trying to figure out how you saved New York with all of this angst.”

“It’s really incredible how you solve people just by looking at them,” Natasha said drily and actually earned a faint smile. “It must really make you a hit at parties.”

“It’s a burden,” he retorted, then sobered. “You have questions.”

Yes, she did. A lot. “The issues you found with my brain. Are they going to get worse?”

Strange considered her. “By worse are you suggesting a deteriorating condition that will debilitate over time? Or that the traumatic brain injuries you seem to sustain regularly along with concussions will create a complication for you?”

“Let’s go with yes, all of the above.” Natasha took a bite of the sandwich. Ham and cheese, a little mustard, a little lettuce and tomato. It tasted—good. Really good. Suddenly starving, she kept her bites small and easily chewed.

“Without monitoring over a course of time—an even the scans you have taken several months apart are complicated by different injuries, I can’t say definitively if degeneration is something you’ll face. Declining memory faculties, aphasia, impaired cognitive abilities—these are all complications of TBIs, but in individuals without your—enhancements. As you are, you may remain exactly as you are providing you avoid head injuries.”

“Let’s assume that’s going to be a challenge.” Natasha was at heart a pragmatist. As long as she was in combat situations, she ran the risk of getting hurt. She’d nearly finished her first sandwich and made herself sip her tea and wait for the second, though James went ahead and added one to her plate. Shooting him a dry look, she selected a sandwich from the tray, took a bite, and then dropped it on the plate in front of him.

Steve bit back a smile and Tony even smirked at James’ bland look. When she looked back at Strange he frowned as he glanced from her to James and then back again. Finally, he said, “Again, I can’t give you specifics or accurate data, but experience tells me repeated head trauma is a bad thing, even in someone who can heal it largely because the architecture of your brain has been compromised and damaged. Now—that’s not to say you couldn’t literally suffer an injury that forces a formerly compromised area to heal. It’s entirely possible.”

“But really dangerous?” Clint suggested, a knife dancing in his hand as he flicked it back and forth. It was an old trick of theirs to unsettle a mark and soften them up for interrogation. It wasn’t working on Strange; he didn’t seem remotely interested in the action.

“There’s always danger when dealing with a brain injury, but I can’t imagine anyone at this table is unfamiliar with the potential threats.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“So if I do nothing, I may or may not get worse.” So not helpful.

“By get worse, are you referring to the episodes? Fugue states? Your PTSD? Specifics help.”

“Your bedside manner sucks,” Clint said. “You and Nat should get along great.”

Flipping Clint off, she studied Strange. “You need to trigger an episode, those tend to make me a little incapacitated, not to mention the pain and the bleeding.”

“Yeah, let’s not forget to mention those,” Tony commented. “Red...”

“Wait,” Steve said, lifting a hand and to her shock, Tony actually clenched his jaw. “We’re still just _talking_ about this, right Nat?”

“At the moment, yes. However—the fugues I’ve dealt with since I left the KGB… and I don’t really get them as often anymore.”

“And we have a pretty good idea of why you were getting them at SHIELD,” Clint supplied, his expression still harboring elements of disapproval.

“Probably…you probably need to see the memory machine if we can figure that thing out.”

“The what now?” Strange asked.

Picking up her sandwich, she said, “Friday, would you please bring the doc up to date and let him see that thing?”

“Of course, Natasha.”

While Friday threw the pictures up of the device and provided Strange with what they knew of it, he stared at the item in disbelief. Steve’s expression was far more foreboding and Clint’s had just gone flat. Neither of them had seen it yet and she didn’t look at it again. She didn’t have to. It was a thing of nightmares.

“And you’re saying they used this on you?”

“Yep,” she told him. “I got all the toys.”

“Humor is a good deflection, but I would ask that you address the next question with all seriousness. How much of that operation do you remember?”

“Bits and pieces—I didn’t remember it at all until recently.”

“What triggered that particular memory? I know that may be personal but it could be important.”

It meant talking about The Mandarin. “What is the chance you four will leave me and Friday to talk to the doc?”

“Natalia,” James said, the rebuke quiet.

“We can,” Steve said and that surprised her. Tony and Clint as well.

“Wait,” Tony said.

“Hey Cap…” Clint began.

“Stop.” The order in his voice unmistakable. “Nat—do you need the privacy?”

“I would prefer it,” she admitted. “Friday can monitor—if she keeps it locked to my voiceprint and doesn’t intervene unless it’s an emergency.”

“Agreed,” Friday said and Tony blew out a breath.

“Okay.” Steve rose and looked at the others. “Gentlemen?”

Clint’s glare was fierce and Tony looked less than thrilled but James didn’t move.

Pivoting in the chair, she looked at him. “I know you hate every part of this. I know you’ve seen so much worse,” she said, meeting his reticent gaze. “But you don’t need to hear this. Any of you.”

With a silent nod, he pushed the chair back and stood before crossing the room and following Steve out. Then the door closed behind them.

“You keep interesting company, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Doc, he who casts spells shouldn’t be the one throwing shade.”

A faint smile creased his lips. “Fair point.”

“Friday?”

“Yes, Natasha?”

“That not listening thing—voiceprint only and I want you to not focus on the rest of this for a bit.”

“I will do my best, I can monitor in visual mode.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Like I said,” Strange murmured before reaching for the teapot and refilling his mug. He moved with deliberate and precise gestures, his scarred hands trembling. Those injuries cost him a field he’d trained in, that he remained an expert of and yet—he continued. “Interesting company. Do I need to assure you of doctor-patient confidentiality?”

“No, I pretty much got that. This isn’t personal for you. It is for them.”

“Understood.”

Natasha refilled her tea. “Two weeks ago, I was taken by a man called The Mandarin…”

Keeping to mission debriefing standards, she outlined the torture she’d endured from the drowning to the suffocation to the electrocution, poisoning, and then blistering sound that she thought nearly punctured her eardrum. It actually might have. At that point, she’d lost track of days.

Strange listened to all of it without interruption, his expression though grew more and more foreboding. When she finished, he considered her for a long moment. “This man and his rings?”

“Dead.”

“Verified?”

“As far as I know.”

“The rings?”

“Destroyed.” She hoped.

“I would like to get confirmation of those,” he said slowly.

“Me too. Let’s get me fixed and we’ll do a field trip to the crazy land.”

A faint smile. “The deflection is probably quite necessary at the moment.”

“Especially when I don’t have any vodka.”

Sitting forward, he tapped one of his fingers to the table. “You were electrocuted over how many minutes? Do you know?”

“Ten? Maybe fifteen? It could have been longer it was hard to keep count at that point. Most of his… events lasted between twenty and forty minutes.”

“How much of a break between that and the sound pressure?” Strange kept his focus on the task.

“I don’t know. I lost consciousness between the first and second events—eventually I blacked out during the second or at least triggered. That was when I remember Secretary Pierce and his taking me to the vault where the memory machine was.”

“Can you go over each step of that you recall?” His gaze was on the machine still displayed on the screen.

So she did, including the cutting, the pain, the drilling and the sounds.

Strange frowned. “That’s a hateful device.”

“That’s a good word for it.”

“It programmed you---made you malleable to suggestion and then surgically altered the brain to make accessing those memories impossible. They would have had to use other methods as well perhaps a combination of drugs and vocal triggers and even then…”

“I apparently helped them calibrate the device…” So, she had to bring up that piece though she compartmentalized the information on the drug and the alien.

At this point, Strange leaned back in the chair. “I truly understand why you did not want them here for this. I barely know you and I feel the need to take action on your behalf.”

“Hey, you’re giving me your expert opinion, so I’m going to call that taking action.” Oddly enough, she kind of liked the doctor. He was harsh, arrogant, and a little high-handed, but he wasn’t a miserable bastard.

“Well let’s see if I can prove actually useful to you. Now for another difficult question, I’m afraid.”

“Because everything else we’ve talked about has been so light and fluffy.”

An actual smile and a hint of a laugh. “You do have your charms.”

“So I’ve been told. What do you want to ask?”

“Your PTSD—it’s linked to far more than the events we’ve discussed. It dates back…”

“Decades, Doc. My issues have issues. I manage. But I need my memories back—I need my mind whole. I’m willing to do a lot—but I don’t want to hurt those men out there so if we can find a way to do it that doesn’t shred me like swiss cheese, they would appreciate it.”

“Truth be told, Ms. Romanoff. So would I… I would caution you that once we begin any course of treatment, we may not recognize a bad direction until it is too late.”

“Awesome.” What else could she say?

“I would also caution you—that whatever we may find, what memories we can recover—based on what you’ve said they may very well add to your trauma.”

“I’m pretty much expecting that. If we can find the one piece I really want—” Though she wanted all of it, she wanted James and Mary back specifically. “It will be worth it.”

“May I attempt something? It will require a little magic.”

“By a little, you mean?” She made a circular motion.

“Something like that, but I do not require the sling ring—and now I understand about the rings, I will do my best to prevent that from being an issue for you.”

“Thank you.”

“While I can’t use magic to heal you, would that I could, I can perhaps—look a little closer without putting you through a machine.”

“Is it going to hurt?”

“I do not believe so, but I cannot guarantee it.”

Rolling her head from side to side, she glanced up. “Friday, please ask James to come in.”

Strange glanced at her. A minute later James was inside and he glanced from her to Strange as she stood. One by one, she removed her knives—four of them—her garrote, her gun, and a handful of taser discs.

Sliding them over toward James, she said. “He’s going to do something…to take a better look. Probably won’t hurt, but…” At his swift frown, she said, “This isn’t treatment.” She glanced at Strange once and he nodded. “This is more looking.”

Arms loose at his sides, easier to reach his weapons that way, James studied Strange. “Do you want the others in here?”

“Better or worse for them?”

James grimaced. “Better… it’s Hell standing out there not knowing.”

“Friday…”

It took a minute to get everyone settled and brought up to speed.

Finally, she looked at Strange and asked, “Where do I need to be?”

“Take a seat.” Only after she sat, did he stand.

“If you can do this look thing with magic,” Tony asked. “Not that I’m buying that it’s magic. Why can’t you just do the fixing with it?”

“Because that is not what the magic was intended for, Mr. Stark. Magic, when used against its will has a tendency to strike back and take a higher cost.”

“Of course it does,” Natasha murmured in the same breath as Tony.

“Let’s just do this, I’m actually tired.” And willing to admit it. “Then I have to think about this. If I want to start—tomorrow?” Preferably before the kids got there. “Would that be doable?”

“I will make time,” Strange assured her. “I will also answer my cell when you send the message.”

“Generous,” Clint said with a snort.

“Ms. Romanoff?”

Natasha spread her hands. “Wow me with your magic, Doc.”

Uncertain of what to expect, actually being knocked out of her own body and staring at the room where the guys all seemed frozen in a moment and Strange—or a translucent Strange approached her was not even in the wheelhouse.

“Why?”

“I will explain another time, I am going to touch you. You will both feel it and not at the same time. Do I have your permission?”

“Sure,” she said, still a little caught up in the fact she was hovering _outside_ her body. The guys were all staring and Tony was squinting at her, his glasses flickering. Then Strange placed his hands on her head and it was… what the hell? She looked up at him, his fingers were touching her head but were inside it and it didn’t hurt but the weird factor dialed up to a thousand.

He pulled back slowly and Natasha swore he held her brain in his hand.

“That’s really not possible,” she said.

“Not in the physical plane, certainly,” he told her. “But magic defies our preconceived notions of possible, of course.”

“Of course.”

More curious than anything, she moved closer as he expanded it and peered at her brain. “There,” he said, drifting his finger along a position. “Do you see it?” He had to make it larger, but the dark striation was there.

‘What is that? And I’m guessing it’s not normal.”

“No… but it is smaller. This segment, it’s shrinking and it’s doing it on its own.”

That was good.

“Then that means…?”

“Whatever caused it no longer does, your body and serum are dealing with it. That leaves the blocks, the altered architecture. It also tells me I don’t need to do an invasive surgery to get a sample.”

“Well yay you. Can I go back to my body now before they freak out?”

Because Tony had paled.

“Yes, of course.”

A jolt later and Natasha sucked in a deep breath. Oh the world felt weird. Really. Really weird.

Strange glanced over at her.

“What did you just do?” Tony demanded. “Everything was fine and then Red’s vitals just stopped for a second.”

A second?

Strange summoned his cloak and snapped it on. “I examined Ms. Romanoff’s astral form to make some determinations regarding the injuries we are dealing with. Do you know more now than you did before?”

“Be a little nicer,” Natasha told him as she rose. “Tony was a fan and he highly recommended you. I think he’s changing his mind.”

The room seemed a little unsteadier but she didn’t falter.

“You okay?” Steve asked quietly.

“That was really weird,” she told him. “But Doc says we don’t have to biopsy my brain. So I’ll call it a win.”

“Exactly. I will leave you to discuss this with your team, Ms. Romanoff.” He set a card down on the table. “My phone number. When you’re ready call me.”

“Thanks… and Doc?”

“I will call before I open a portal. You have my word.”

Tony and Clint saw him out and Natasha flattened her hands on the table. James slid her weapons back to her and studied her quietly.

“I don’t like any of this,” he told her.

“I know. But it wasn’t as bad as I thought.” Which wasn’t saying much. “The team is going to have questions.”

“They can wait,” James said. Maybe they could, but Wanda had been upset.

“I want to talk to Wanda and then I want to go back to the Tower,” she glanced from Steve to James.

“We can do that.” Steve’s sigh had her turning to face them both,

“You know what else I want?”

Steve raised his brows. “Vodka?”

“Well… yes and a lot of it. But I’d like a hug. I want…” She didn’t even get to finish it. Steve crushed her to him, it was the gentlest, all-encompassing hug and James hand was on her back. He hesitated until she reached for him and then she was folded into a super soldier sandwich and she closed her eyes.

Monsters and magic and all the things she’d never been trained for.

With reluctance, she eased away and they let her go. Leaning against the table, she said. “Tonight—just the three of us. We talk about this.”

“No Tony?” Steve asked.

Natasha shook her head slowly. “No Clint either.”

“You know their opinions,” James stated, no question in his tone.

“Clint made his clear earlier and Tony’s—Tony.” She valued his opinion but he was so violently opposed to the very idea of something harming her that it compromised the rest. She looked at James. “This is…this is ours.”

“You want me there?” Steve verified then raised his hands when she stared at him. “Look, I’d get it if you wanted it to just be the two of you, I would. So I’m making sure. No pressure.”

“Pressure is okay,” she told him. “I’m not going to break. But yes, I want you there.”

“So do I,” James added.

“Natasha,” Friday murmured. “Boss and Mr. Barton are almost back.”

“Thank you, Friday.”

“We’ll talk about it at the Tower,” Steve said, then leaned in and hesitated but Natasha closed the distance and brushed a kiss to his mouth and he smiled before pressing another kiss to her forehead.

They would figure it out.


	11. Ruthless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caring sometimes means you have to be ruthless...

**Chapter Eleven**

**Ruthless**

Wanda

Wanda pulled a sweater around her tighter as Natasha came to perch on the edge of her bed. “Are you sick?” The question had plagued her all the way back to her room. Natasha called the man _Doctor_. But he also arrived via a portal and the power rolling off him—he was _dangerous_. She also got the impression he saw Wanda the same way.

“Not exactly,” Natasha told her.

“Something The Mandarin did to you?” She leaned forward and covered Natasha’s hand on the bed with hers. A part of her wanted to read her, to slip in and learn what it was Natasha kept from her but she resisted the very real urge. It would be an absolute betrayal. While she had forgiven Wanda for the memories she’d erupted during their first meeting, she would not likely forgive a repeat performance no matter how well-intentioned Wanda might be.

“Again, not exactly.” When Wanda would have asked another question, Natasha raised her hand. Her calm expression and sober eyes were a more effective deterrent than her hand. “I’m not keeping this from you because I don’t trust you. At the moment, I have more questions than I do answers. The doctor is assisting in helping me find some answers. We have requested that he not just drop in again…”

Lips pursed, Wanda nodded. For a moment, between the sudden appearance of the portal and the incredible power surge Wanda worried The Mandarin had returned and she was not going to let him take Natasha again. Not while she had the power to stop him and she did.

“I…” She twisted the edge of her sweater. “I was ready to hurt him.”

“I know,” Natasha said, absolutely no judgment in her voice. “But there is a key difference in what you did than what you believe you did.”

“What?”

With a smile, Natasha held out her hand and Wanda clasped it. Every time Natasha did that, it told her she trusted Wanda, that Wanda wasn’t quite the dangerous freak she worried she’d become. Pietro had always been the affectionate one of the two of them, he’d offered her easy hugs and would tease her from her darker moods. With her cataclysmic string of failures stretching out behind her, she didn’t imagine she would ever be truly worthy of the trust Natasha gave her.

But she would damn well try.

“You were ready for a fight, in hindsight, you are now second-guessing every step you made from creating a shield around us to being prepared to throw the full weight of your power against an unknown, unidentified subject who just appeared in our training area.”

Well, that much was true.

“That’s exactly what you did—you were prepared for battle, armed yourself and sought to protect me—arguably someone not armed for a magical conflict.”

“I would never say that,” Wanda pointed out. “You’re armed even when I think you’re not.”

A quick grin and a gentle hand squeeze rewarded her comment. “Good call. Now—that is what you did and there is absolutely _nothing_ wrong with being prepared particularly when you don’t know the threat level of the person arriving and they are just blithely dropping into the center of a secure facility like an idiot savant with a death wish.”

The dry delivery made Wanda giggle and she covered her mouth with both of her hands. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“I do put it that way and I seem to have impressed upon him the need to call ahead of time and perhaps to portal into a previously established area rather than a private, secure one.”

Blowing out a breath, Wanda nodded. “He’s very powerful, Natasha.”

“I’ve gathered that and I won’t pretend to know what that means for either of us, but it’s always better to gather an assessment of potential threats so you are better equipped to defend against them. That said,” she told her, tapping her fingers against the bed. “You did all the right things and sitting in here tearing yourself up over what you _might _have done is not productive. You didn’t strike him. You didn’t attack without cause or provocation. You withdrew when an ally and trusted source gave you leave. You obeyed your instincts and worked with your team—in this case, me and Steve when he gave the word for everyone else to go.”

Hugging her knees to her chest, Wanda considered her words. “Why does it feel like I messed up then?”

“Because you’re still afraid of what you can do—of what will happen when the threat is so real and severe that you unleash your full power.”

“We know what I can do,” Wanda argued, looking down and picking at the thread on her pajama bottoms.

“We have an idea of what you can do, but we’ve never seen you truly open up and we won’t, at least not unless you’re pushed.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.” Canting her head, she studied Natasha.

Leaning onto her elbow, Natasha settled sideways on her bed then propped her head up on her hand. “I’m going to tell you a story. For now, I want you to only focus on the story itself and to ask me no questions about it. Can you do that?”

She opened her mouth to ask a question, then closed it. If she asked, that would utterly defeat the purpose. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Natasha told her. She didn’t begin immediately, seeming to contemplate something before she said, “In the Red Room, where I was trained—you began young, children. You trained to fight. To use weapons. To pick locks. To read people. To manipulate them. So many skills, always training—every day. Dancing was a part of that, too. That taught discipline. Ultimately, though, what was taught was survival. The rest were tools to be used to achieve survival. A couple of years into the training, a grouping of girls would be sent out into the wilderness. They would be left by a teacher or a handler. Eight girls. Enough supplies for four of them. The mission. Return by any means necessary.”

Horror crawled through Wanda.

“You don’t think you would kill the person next to you, you believe you would work with them. Divide the resources and work together. Eight girls can handle more than four. That makes sense. Yes? The handlers are aware of this potential flaw and they know what they have done. You have to survive more than just the other students but the terrain and the weather. Now had you been trained to trust the other students and to work with them, negotiation and team building might offer a solution. But you have never been taught to trust those around you. You know that the girl in the bed next to you might very well kill you in your sleep so that she can advance in the next day’s training or that the girl two beds down will try to trip you in the shower and strangle you because killing you there means you won’t be on the mats later that day. Even if you avoid those pitfalls, you will find yourself face to face with another student, you will fight. Sometimes to first fall, sometimes to first blood, and sometimes the handlers will not let the match end until one opponent is dead.”

Wanda wanted to throw up. The hand she covered her mouth with now kept a scream back. The Red Room—the place she had seen in Natasha’s mind. The dancing. All of this was real. It _had_ happened.

“So your handlers know you cannot trust any of the girls. You must make it back. The easiest solution, kill one, grab a pack of supplies and go. You are not the only one who has this idea.”

Closing her eyes, Wanda tries to keep the thoughts out.

“Now there are four, wounded, bitten, scratched, and sweaty. But what if it could just be two? You would have twice the supplies and it would guarantee your survival and it doesn’t matter if this thought occurs to you because it will occur to them. When it is two, then you both know that there really can only be one who returns—your handlers have never rewarded you for being sloppy. They sent you out here to cull the students to find who is the best. If two return, then you can’t both be the best—therefore you will have failed the mission and likely be executed. Survival is the only thing that matters. You were given a mission and you will do what you have to do.”

Tears burning in her eyes, Wanda swallowed and met Natasha’s quiet eyes. The horror she bled from her own soul tore at her.

“Only when you have killed this last girl will you understand the point of the exercise. It wasn’t just about survival or being the best—it was about unleashing your full potential. It was about knowing you can survive because you know what you _can_ and _will_ do.”

With a small smile, Natasha straightened. “Until you unleash yourself, you will always be a little afraid of what you _might_ do. It will eat at you—because you won’t trust yourself. That’s what we’re going to work on—in a far less painful fashion.”

She couldn’t help it, tears spilled out of her eyes and she scrambled over to hug Natasha. The older woman wrapped her tight.

“I’m so sorry.” Wanda whispered.

“It’s long past,” she whispered. “You’re going to be fine.”

The hug went on as Natasha rubbed her back soothingly and more tears spilled out of Wanda. It was like being in her room at the Tower all over again when all of her frustrations spilled out.

“I don’t want to hurt people—and I wanted to hurt him.”

“You wanted to stop him,” Natasha murmured. “You wanted to protect me.”

The words sank in slowly and Wanda leaned back. “When we—when we blasted The Mandarin, I had the opportunity to drop my arm to not let the repulsor fire. The programming was there, but it gave me a chance to say no. I didn’t—he took you and he hurt you.”

“You made a choice,” Natasha said, carefully pushing Wanda’s hair away from her face. “Do you think you were wrong?”

“I think…he was a hateful man, he did horrible things—what he tried to do to Steve. What he did to you.”

“Wanda,” the command in Natasha’s voice dragged at her. “Do you think making the choice to join the others and let your repulsor fire and eliminate him was wrong?”

“I think the world is better without him.” Then she licked her lips and added, “No, I wasn’t wrong. That scares me.”

“Good. Making a judgment call is tough. But you did what you believed was right, or maybe even just the lesser of two evils. You can keep beating yourself up about it or you can forgive yourself and accept that you made a choice to protect your team and you took out someone who did horrible things to them.” She tugged Wanda’s hair gently. “You are not a bad person. You feel things very deeply. That’s why this is troubling you.”

Natasha had once offered to take out the guards that had hurt her and suddenly Wanda understood why. “Do you feel safer knowing he’s gone?”

“Yes,” Natasha answered.

“Then that’s enough,” Wanda said before pushing her own fingers through her hair and shaking her head. “That’s enough.”

“You feel better now?”

“A little,” Wanda admitted. “How do we—unleash me to learn my full potential?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

Skeptical, Wanda squinted at her.

“Hey,” Natasha said. “It’ll be fun.”

“You have a weird definition of fun.”

“You know, I hear that a lot. Makes me think there’s something wrong with other people’s sense of humor.” The sly smile coupled with the amusement trickling into Natasha’s eyes made Wanda laugh.

“I have missed you. We really need to knock that off.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Natasha said, then rose. “I have to help Peter tomorrow—but maybe we can work out something on Friday?”

“I’d like that. The kids will be here.” Wanda couldn’t wait for them to arrive. She loved the whole Barton family. While they couldn’t replace her own, she liked how it felt to hang out with them.

“Looking forward to it.” While there was some truth to that, Natasha looked more thoughtful than excited. At the door, she paused. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

“What?” Wanda scooted to the edge of the bed. She needed to get changed and go find some food anyway. Maybe do some reading.

“What happened to your rings? The fun styles…crazy leggings and long socks?”

Wanda glanced at her bare fingers then spread her hands. “After—after the Raft, I didn’t know where my rings had gone. They took them off me when I was incarcerated. After Wakanda, I went back to Sokovia, I was working a lot with my hands and… I just never thought about it.”

“Do you miss them?” The question was innocuous enough but Wanda found herself uncertain of the answer. “Something to think about—let me know, and if you want to talk about it? You’re not alone.”

“Neither are you,” Wanda said, standing “If I can help you…”

“You already have,” Natasha told her. “You kept training, you kept it together, you worked with the team—you help me every day knowing you can survive.”

It was such an odd thing to say and yet, Wanda couldn’t escape the pride it filled her with. “Friday? I’ll start with brownies?”

“Oh,” Natasha said as she opened the door. Movement beyond showed Bucky straightening from where he leaned against the wall. “Chocolate bribes. That’s always a good start.”

“Hey Bucky,” Wanda said, laughing as she gripped the door and Natasha wandered toward him.

“How are you, Wanda?”

“I’m better,” she said, her gaze trailing to Natasha before meeting his again and he nodded.

“Me, too.” He winked. “We’ll see you Friday then?”

“Sounds like it.”

Natasha glanced over her shoulder. “You need me, you call me.”

“Only if you do the same,” Wanda called. Natasha laughed as she and Bucky made their way up the hall, but she didn’t reach for his hand and he didn’t touch her. As much as Natasha was back, there were still open wounds. Wounds Wanda didn’t quite understand…

She’d call Clint later or maybe talk to Sam. They both understood trauma. Closing the door, she headed for a closet and Vision stepped through the wall.

“Vis…”

“I know, I said I would try to refrain, but I could not reach your door without passing Natasha and Sergeant Barnes and they seem to be in some kind of silent disagreement.”

Wanda made a face. “Okay, turn around and give me a moment to change?”

Obediently, Vision faced the wall.

“Do you know anything about trauma, Vis?”

“I have access to a great many files on the subject.”

That might be helpful.

“Would you like me to access them so we can discuss it?”

“Yes,” she said tugging off the sweater and then looking at her bare fingers. “I would.”

**Bucky**

Natalia continued to hold her own counsel as they left the residential hall and headed for Steve’s office. He’d closeted himself with Sam to continue the earlier discussion on PTSD, a conversation Bucky found himself growing increasingly less comfortable with, and he hadn’t been alone. Tony hadn’t cared for it either. There was something—deceptive about discussing Natalia when she wasn’t there.

Steve meant well, he wanted to understand. They all did. When Steve wanted to learn, he studied, he read, and he dug in deep. Bucky did understand, but understanding didn’t give them a roadmap. Sometimes, a person just had to choose to survive. Natalia had…

“I can feel you worrying,” she murmured as they made their way across the compound.

“I’m not hiding it,” he admitted.

“Good,” she told him. “I don’t want you to think you have to.”

“How is Wanda?”

“Struggling,” Natasha said. “But she’s going to be fine. She doesn’t trust herself…”

“That can make her dangerous, Doll.”

“We’re all dangerous, James,” Natalia said, a slow familiar smile on her lips. “That’s what makes us so interesting.”

He snorted.

At the closed door to Steve’s office, she knocked.

Sam opened it and gave her a once over. “Girl… you don’t call. You don’t write. When are you going to dump these guys and run away with me?”

“I would Sam, but you have to be able to keep up.”

Bucky snorted.

“That’s cold.”

“No,” Natalia told him with a trace of amusement. “Cold would be admitting you’d probably need to outrun them.”

Steve, having moved to join them, stood just behind Sam. “On your left.”

The former airman shifted to allow Steve to pass him. “So that’s how it is?”

“Well, I could offer to arm wrestle you,” Steve told him as Natalia backed a couple of steps to let Steve leave his office. “But I don’t know how that would work out any different.”

Groaning, Sam waved them out. “Go away, all of you. Nat—you want to dump these bozos, give me a call—I’ll get the jet warmed up so we have a head start.”

She laughed. “Sorry, Sam. Just not feeling it.”

“I know, story of my life.” As irritating as the other man could be, he had his moments. Friday was right, he knew a lot about PTSD, but none of it seemed to match quite what Natalia seemed to experience.

Sharon appeared from an office farther down the hall. Natalia shifted at the movement. “You guys heading out?”

“If we can find Tony and Clint, yep.”

“Boss is on a call in his office, Natasha,” Friday told her. “Mr. Barton is hiding nerf guns in the vents.”

“Friday!” came the shout from somewhere down the hall. “Way to rat a guy out.”

“You didn’t indicate this was a secret, Mr. Barton. If you would please forget I mentioned that, Natasha. Mr. Barton is not currently hiding air-powered weapons with soft projectiles in easy reach of several different areas of the Compound.”

Bucky snorted and Steve shook his head. Friday’s absolute lack of contrition added to the widening smile on Natalia’s face. “I didn’t hear anything,” she told Friday. “Could you let them know we’re ready to head back to the Tower and we’re going out to the quinjet?”

“Absolutely. Boss said he will join you in about five minutes.”

“So fifteen to twenty?”

“Most likely, he is arguing with someone on the Committee.”

Sharon raised her eyebrows and Natalia glanced along the hall toward Tony’s office.

“Does he need intercept or does he have it?”

“I do believe Boss sounds like he’s enjoying himself.”

“Then let him have it,” she glanced at Bucky and the smile on her lips reflected in her eyes. For that, he was pleased.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Steve said to Sam. “Maybe. Definitely Friday.” He glanced down the hall at Sharon. “We’ll expect you there, too. Family dinner.”

She lifted a hand. “I’ll try, I want to get all of this tied up before I head out.”

“If there’s anything you need me to look after,” Natalia told her. “Just let me know.”

“Will do—you guys mind if I steal Sam? Since you’ve had him doing all the old reports review, he can help me write these summaries?”

“I don’t know, Sam,” Steve said, eyeing the other man. “Can Sharon steal you?”

“Get out of here,” he said. “I got this.” Though he paused to look at Natalia. “You good?”

“I’m getting there,” she told him almost serenely. “Now go away, Sam. You’re needed that way.” She pointed him down the hallway.

The pair vanished into the office and Bucky glanced at Steve. There was a speculative look on his face, but it was Natalia who asked, “How long has that been going on?”

Steve said, “Pretty sure from before the party.”

Chuckling, Bucky offered his hand to Natalia. “Pretty sure from before him setting you up for your date.”

“Really?” Steve stared at him.

Natalia slid her hand into his and Bucky resisted the urge to tug her in. She closed the distance but didn’t lean on him. The fact she asked for a hug earlier had been huge enough. Whatever she and Clint discussed when they’d left the training room had made her raw and the archer a little touchy. When Tony all but called him on it, Clint just told him to stuff it.

Steve retrieved their coats from his office, including Natalia’s and she released Bucky long enough to slip it on, then took his hand again.

“Pretty sure,” Bucky said. “I’m guessing the set up was as much about his attraction as it was about getting you laid.”

With a grimace, Steve glanced at Natalia but she just laughed. “Maybe. Sam means well.”

“He does,” Steve said, blowing out a breath and looking at Bucky like what the hell. “Unlike some jerks, I can name who used to set me up all the time.”

“Mine was definitely about getting us both laid,” Bucky assured him. “I’m just better at it.”

Outside, it had begun to snow and Natalia glanced up at the sky, letting the flakes catch on her eyelashes and her hair. “I still want to go skating at Rockefeller Center.”

“Sleigh ride?” Bucky asked.

“Yes… I want to do all the things we were planning.”

“We can,” Steve told her, shooting Bucky a look. Concern reflected in his eyes.

“You didn’t say when I was feeling up to it,” she sounded pleased.

“Angel, we’re trying,” he reminded her and she pulled away to walk ahead of them, but turned to face them as she walked backward.

Bucky’s heart filled, she trusted them to watch her back.

“I know—I’m not mad. I just—I want to do fun things again.”

“You want to _want_ to do fun things, to cut loose and not have to worry about anyone else,” Bucky said, understanding rippling through him.

“That too,” she said, making a face. “Do I want to know what you and Strange talked about when I stepped out with Clint?”

“We can talk about it,” Steve said. “But I think we should wait.”

Bucky whirled his finger so she would turn; they were close to where the ground grew uneven. Aboard the quinjet, she moved toward the pilot’s chair, then glanced out the front before turning to face them.

“Tired?” Bucky asked her; she’d been on the go most of the day—at least as far as he knew. She’d kept her distance, too.

“A little. Kind of hungry, too.”

“We could have eaten here,” Steve told her.

“I don’t want to stay here, I want to—I need to sit down and work through this.”

They all did. He and Steve needed to talk to her about Tony’s theory. She wasn’t sleeping well, or at least not staying asleep. But she was moving better. The fact she’d been in the training room with Wanda had been bad enough, but Strange just dropping in had set Tony’s hair on fire.

That part of the discussion when she left with Clint had actually been moderately entertaining. Bucky hadn’t decided what he thought about Strange particularly after whatever the hell it was he’d done in the conference room. Natalia _did_ seem to trust him, so he leaned on that judgment call.

For now.

“You want to fly?” Steve asked when she didn’t move away from the pilot’s seat.

“I want to take the ‘Vette out,” she admitted. “A part of me just wants to get in the car and drive.”

“We can do that,” Bucky told her evenly, aware of Steve’s sigh.

“We could,” he admitted. “But you won’t.” The last was directed at Natalia and he wasn’t wrong.

“No,” she said giving them a wry smile. “I can’t really. The kids are coming. I need to give Peter a hand tomorrow…”

That was news. Steve frowned and she raised a hand.

“We’ll talk about it…” She glanced past them toward the ramp as Clint strode up.

“What are we talking about?”

“That you’re still down to me three to two on the range,” Bucky answered easily and the archer snorted.

“You and me…”

“Clint,” Natasha said abruptly. “Your brace is gone.”

Steve straightened and Bucky swept a look over him. Natalia’s best friend moved steady, if a little slow, and he grinned. “Why yes, it is. Got the okay from doc to lose it. Time to start building muscle mass. Gotta watch the stress on it, but the bones are fused and I’m ready to start training again.”

Emotion swamped Natalia’s expression and she crossed the narrow jet to hug him. Clint chuckled as he held her.

“You didn’t say anything earlier you idiot.”

“Didn’t get the all-clear until after Strange left. Helen had to wait for my test results.”

Steve grinned and Bucky nodded. The relief in Natalia’s voice was palpable.

She pulled back. “But you’re clear? Shoulder and leg?”

“Yes, Tasha.” He tapped her nose. “Give me a couple of weeks and then you and me, sparring.”

Laughter welled out of her, rich and throaty. “I am so going to kick your ass.”

“I can’t wait—just don’t go for the leg.”

Her indelicate snort widened Steve’s grin even as Bucky leaned back, some of the tension in his back and shoulders easing.

“Oh, you’re going to milk it, aren’t you?”

“Making you spot me two points,” Clint said. “Damn straight.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Two points,” she countered as he slid around her to head for the pilot’s chair. “Why two?”

“Shoulder,” he said miming like he couldn’t use it. “Leg. Two points.”

“Want me to boot you in the ass right now and make it three?” Natalia raised her eyebrows.

He flipped her off and she smirked.

“Your retorts are weak.”

“Ha,” he laughed at that and settled in the chair. “I save all my good material for challenges.”

“And on that note,” Steve said, eyeing them both with amusement. “Congrats Clint. I’ll be sure to drop you back in full rotations as soon as Helen’s paperwork clears my desk.”

“Much obliged if you could lose it until after the holidays?”

“Can do,” Steve glanced at Natalia a beat and raised his eyebrows. Did she want to give Clint longer? She shook her head, her smile undiminished.

“I’m here,” Tony announced as he strode up the ramp. “We are free to head back to the Tower.”

“We were free to head back before,” Natalia told Tony. “You have a suit and can fly.”

“Nice, Red,” he gave her a narrow-eyed look. “Just for that, I’m not telling you about the amount ass-kissing Devereux is trying to do to get an appointment with you.”

Bucky’s good mood fled. That son of a bitch needed a lesson in manners.

“I’m good,” Natalia told him, dropping to sit on the bench next to Bucky as the ramp closed. She leaned her head back. “The longer he squirms the better.”

“You know,” Tony said, sprawling on the bench opposite theirs. “You’re not wrong.”

Steve snorted. “What does he want?”

“Time with our lovely red-haired assassin,” Tony almost smirked. “Private time.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m assuming you played a possessive if narcissistic card?”

“Oh, most assuredly. Besides, I’m the important one in the negotiations. So after I indicated I was feeling more than a little dismissed and underappreciated, I wasted another fifteen minutes of his time.”

Tony was exceptionally proud of himself.

“Bottom line?” Steve didn’t like the French delegate either. The way the guy kept trying to isolate Natalia would have made Bucky dislike him, but the fact he couldn’t keep his grabby hands off just made him want to break bones. Natalia didn’t, so Bucky restrained himself.

For now.

They could get their Accords sorted out.

“You have murder face on,” Tony said, eyeing him. “How many ways could you get rid of the delegate? Purely as an intellectual exercise?”

“He only needs one,” Clint called.

Bucky grinned. The archer was right. He only needed one.

“Yeah murder face with a smile is even scarier, just saying.” Tony turned his attention to Steve. “Bottom line, they’re scrambling. The delegate is an ass but the French president is a huge fan of Red’s and has a pair of nieces who are dying to meet her. Devereux needs to make nice or he’ll likely be replaced.”

“Now that’s tempting,” she said, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back.

“No guarantee his replacement will be any better, Angel.”

The quinjet lifted off and Natalia sighed. “Steve—don’t rain on my temptations with your pragmatism.”

Steve chuckled. “Anything you want.”

Natalia brightened. “Anything?”

“Well, short of tattooing your name on my ass…”

The comment earned a brilliant smile and Bucky nodded in satisfaction. Bit by bit, she was pulling herself back.

“Huh… what _would_ get you to tattoo my name on your ass? Inquiring minds want to know.”

Tony snorted and even Clint laughed. Steve actually flushed, not much, but it was there and Bucky shook his head.

“You’re going to have to work on that one,” Bucky warned her. “It might take several interrogations to get it out of him.”

“You do know that’s my specialty, right?” She eyed him.

“Ferreting out hidden info? Oh yes, I believe you told me once you enjoy getting it out of others yourself.”

“That I do,” she murmured, turning that gaze back on Steve and he gave them both an exasperated look.

“You two are not allowed to plot together.”

“Too late,” she said in the same breath he did and Tony let out another laugh.

“You are so screwed, Cap.”

With a dramatic sigh, but a pleased smile, Steve said, “Don’t I know it.”

**Steve**

It wasn’t that late when they arrived at the Tower. Clint headed to his floor to call his family, Tony declared he needed to get in some lab time, though he mentioned he and Bucky meeting to look at the memory machine—maybe the next day and Nat led the way to the elevator to return to their floor.

“Hey Red,” Tony said before they got onto the elevator. “You going to read me into that private tête-à-tête you had with Strange?”

“Nope,” she told him. “It’s not anything you need to know.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You sure?”

“Yep,” she told him. “It’s done Tony, Strange needed context to answer his questions.”

“And I don’t?”

“Tony,” Steve answered before she did. “It’s not your fault.”

The other man sighed. “Doesn’t feel that way.”

“Well, work on it,” Natasha told him. “Because it wasn’t. You don’t get to beat yourself up on this one—as far as that whole thing goes—it’s all about me. Not you.”

The corner of Tony’s mouth inched higher. “Rude.”

“Maybe,” she told him. “So go make something brilliant and stop brooding. Brooding isn’t sexy.”

He laughed. It was the right thing to say to him because it neutered some of his self-loathing. “I have it on good authority you’re wrong,” he yelled.

“Bambie, Lola, and Tina are terrible sources to cite,” she retaliated before the elevator snapped closed.

Bucky tucked his head down and laughed.

Amused, Steve glanced at her. “Bambie, Lola, and Tina?”

“Eh, it sounded good.”

“It worked,” Steve pointed out. “You handle him well.”

“Sometimes,” she said. “I’m going to grab a quick shower when we get in. Would one of you mind making me a cup of tea? Maybe blackberry?”

“I can do that,” Bucky said, studying her. Even though he wasn’t looking directly at her, his attention was on her as was Steve’s. His awareness of her only seemed to increase. A turn of phrase that pulled her mouth into a faint smile or the way her gaze would slip to the side, they tugged at him. He hadn’t been wrong when he told Tony they all wanted to fix it. The worst battles were the ones he wasn’t even allowed to fight in. But he could damn well support her…

“I’ll throw together some sandwiches if you want,” Steve said. “We’re going to end up going back up to the penthouse for dinner anyway.” It would be easy to lock themselves in and keep Natasha to themselves, but Tony and Clint needed to see her just as much and she needed all of them.

The way she sought out Wanda told him that if nothing else as did the way Wanda held on to her. Natasha belonged to all of them.

“Maybe…but I am hungry. So yeah that would be great.”

Once on their floor, Nat headed for her room and he and Bucky moved into the kitchen. “Is it me,” he began, glancing at Bucky. “Or is she showering a lot?”

“Her hair was wet earlier, in the training room.”

Steve had noticed that, too. He was half-tempted to verify his suspicions with Friday, but he didn’t want Nat to feel like he was checking up on her again.

“It could be a coping technique,” Bucky said quietly. “Something she can control.”

And she’d spent days in hellacious conditions. She’d been filthy, something she’d been keenly aware of. “Yeah, I get that.” Buck had snagged every shower he could for a while after Azzano, too. Cold or hot.

So yeah—maybe she just needed to control her own condition,

She didn’t take long, padding out of her room wearing one of Steve’s shirts with his dog tags resting between her breasts, a pair of Bucky’s boxers and mismatched fuzzy socks, her damp hair sticking to her cheeks and her face, arms and legs flushed pink from the shower. At least the visible bruising had decreased.

He set the platter of sandwiches on the table and then slowed when she wrapped her arms around him. Resting his chin on her hair, he kept his hold loose. When she backed off and unease flashed across her expression, he did his best not to let that get to him. Natasha wasn’t shutting them out and she’d been clear that touching bothered her even if she worked on it.

That she _asked_ him for a hug earlier had felt huge. This was a little different.

“I really hate this,” she admitted, her fists flexing.

“Easy, Doll,” Bucky told her as he carried her mug over and set it on the table. “You’ll get there.”

“But I want to…” The grit of her teeth as she sucked the words back in eased some of Steve’s discomfort. She wanted to be close to them, it would just take time. The one thing Sam kept stressing, there was no one size fits all foolproof therapy for PTSD. Everyone had different triggers, listening to what she said and didn’t say with her reactions were going to be their best guidepost.

Touching triggered her right now. It could set off her need to defend herself, autonomic reactions programmed from years of having to fight to survive or leave her feeling vulnerable, which might be worse in Steve’s opinion. That lost look in her eyes, though? That killed him and sent a wild rage through him like he’d never experienced. He'd rapidly developed a homicidal need to eradicate anyone involved in putting that expression there. But she wanted comfort or at least not to be trapped by what she saw as a weakness. The fact she’d hugged Clint earlier after realizing he no longer wore his leg brace and the wild warmth radiating off of her as they teased had been a good sign.

This after her discussion with Clint made her cry. She’d hidden it well when she came back, but her eyes hadn’t been red-rimmed when Clint pulled her out to talk.

“Hey… one step at a time,” he reminded her. “Whatever you want. You’re going to get it, okay?”

She made a face and settled in a chair. “I want to stomp my foot and pout.”

Bucky actually laughed. “Go ahead, Doll. That could be fun, too.”

They took their time getting their coffee before they joined her and she’d already started on her sandwich. The silence stretched out. “Angel…”

She and Bucky both looked at him.

“You wanted to talk to us about Strange—about his recommendations.” At least drilling into her brain was off the table. Steve would never have been able to get on board with that. Before—everything, she’d talked to T’Challa, but then she’d been taken and they’d never had those discussions or sent her medical files. Until earlier today, he’d half-forgotten that.

“I do… I’m just trying to figure out where to start.” It wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. That much had been clear from the beginning. “Not usually a problem I have.”

“Because you’ve already made up your mind,” Steve said, tipping his head and studying her. “You want to lay out the options for us so that we’re involved, but you know what you want to do.” They were damn lucky she was even talking to them. But like them, she was trying, too.

“You’re going to let him trigger you,” Bucky picked up the thread. “You want to force a reaction, see if it helps that area heal.”

“I want to find Mary,” she said. “At the end of the day, everything else is… noise.” There was almost an apology in her voice as she said it. “But I want us back,” she told Bucky and he sighed. “I want Mary. It’s here…” She tapped her skull. “Locked in there and I’ve got these two fragments. The rest of it—I could get to it. But Tony’s not going to unlock BARF. Not without the sign off from the doc and right now, Strange isn’t really winning friends and influencing people.”

“He’s winning you over,” Bucky said and he wasn’t wrong. Steve had seen the same thing. The doctor was a unique individual and the fact he’d seemed to moderate his heavy-handed bluntness with Natasha gave Steve a measure of hope.

“Or are you winning him over?” Steve raised his brows.

“I was honest with him, as honest as I can be at the moment because the prize at the end is worth it.” Hands wrapped around tea mug, she glanced from him to Bucky and then said, “I also saw Helen today.”

Steve frowned.

“I asked her to do blood work.”

He wasn’t the only one who sent still, Bucky had zeroed in on her face and Steve couldn’t figure out what she was going to say next. It was good news, right? But why… ?

“When you brought me back, my toxicology showed heavy metals and toxins.”

“That was why she kept you in medical for a few hours,” Steve said slowly. Had they missed something? The last time Natasha voluntarily went to a doctor it had been after Bucky told her about their daughter. Before then? Steve had never seen her go see one without a lot of arm-twisting. “Made sure most of it was out of your system.”

Natasha nodded. “But I’ve felt off—for days. Just off and I didn’t know if it was psychological or physiological and…I just needed to know. It came back mostly negative for the toxins, trace amounts of metal. She thinks it’s still working out of my system.”

The fist on his heart eased some. “So good news?”

Bucky sighed and clenched his fist before he removed it from the table. “It’s not enough to inhibit using BARF.”

“That’s part of it,” she admitted. “The other part was the nausea, the fact I threw up after I pulled that piece of memory out.” Then she stopped. “Fuck, I lied to Strange.”

Steve frowned. The day Strange had shown up, she’d had an episode in her closet.

“You aren’t alone in that, Angel,” he said. “There’s been a lot going on.”

Bucky laughed without any humor. “Natalia—we know you want to do everything possible. Strange seems to be working on options—there’s another one.” He glanced at Steve. Yeah, they couldn’t sit on this anymore.

“Wakanda?”

“Well, that is another, too,” Steve said, holding a hand up toward Bucky. “We can circle back but this is slightly different. It has more to do with me and Buck and your DNA.”

Not the most comfortable of topics, but he wasn’t going to open with Tony’s suggestion. He would have to bring him up, however.

“Tony has a theory, one he shared with me and Buck as it directly relates to all three of us,” Steve said, choosing his words with care. “Something, he noticed because of The Mandarin. The fact you seemed to be healing faster.”

“It’s his belief,” Bucky picked up the thread. “That because your DNA is adaptable, our DNA may be affecting yours, boosting it—because of the serums.”

This should not be so awkward. Steve frowned, keeping his focus on her as she raised her brows. “The theory is that because we have sex—or that you have sex with each of us—your DNA is repurposing ours to help you.”

“You healed faster on the island,” Bucky told her. “After that first night the three of us were together, the difference was almost night and day. You began to improve by leaps and bounds.”

“Physically.” It wasn’t a question.

“There’s a chance we’re changing you,” Bucky admitted and Steve released a breath.

“And a chance we could get you pregnant.” Steve wasn’t sure he’d wrapped his mind around that one. “But in the short term—your episodes. The pieces of your memory coming back?”

“Could be because of us as well,” Bucky finished. “It’s possible, given enough time—you could heal fully.”

She focused on them, her expression thoughtful and her gaze assessing. “How much time?”

“Angel, we don’t know, I doubt Tony knows.” They’d only been lovers for what? Scant months for she and Buck? Slightly less for him? Then what? Mere weeks since the island? A lot of this was still new to Steve, well new for all three of them even being a three of them.

She leaned back in the chair and looked at the ceiling. Her expression intent, almost searching.

“Doll, it’s possible you wouldn’t have to do anything invasive…”

“Just have lots of sex,” Natasha said, traces of humor lightening her tone. “Not like that’s the worst prescription I’ve ever received… but it doesn’t have any guaranteed results.”

“I object to that last description,” Steve said. “I’m of the opinion we’ve had some pretty awesome results.”

That earned him a genuine smile. “I talked to Helen about the possibility of pregnancy today, too. Yes, I kind of—guessed some of that. At least I’ve been putting it together. In the interests of honesty—I don’t know how I feel about that.”

The disappointment flickering across Bucky’s expression was gone so swiftly, Steve wasn’t sure he’d seen it but the way his own stomach bottomed out—he could certainly imagine it. He had no idea what he thought about it either. Kids hadn’t been something he dreamed of, not when he was younger and since the serum, the thought hadn’t really crossed his mind. Still, there was a twist of disappointment.

“I can’t really think about that, I mean I know we have to or we need to use condoms or something. Helen isn’t sure birth control would work on me anyway—not that it’s likely to be an issue for a while. I’m still pretty—wrecked.”

Anger ignited like phosphorous in his system. Wrecked because of the things the Red Room, Hydra and SHIELD and every other bastard along the way had done to her.

“If we use condoms,” Bucky pointed out. “Then our DNA can’t boost yours—you might not heal as quickly.”

“But we also wouldn’t be changing you.” Steve offered her his hand and he hoped like hell she would take it. When she settled her hand in his palm, he let out a breath. “This is a theory only, Angel.” And while he might not be able to wrap his mind around the idea of a pregnancy, he did want to boost her serum as long as it didn’t hurt her in the long run.

Just—never hurt her.

“Helen doesn’t disagree with it. She believes that it wouldn’t be a matter of if it happened, but when. Though, that’s not something that will happen next week, next month, or even next year. Still, I would need time to heal, probably to avoid other injuries, and I don’t exactly have a noncombatant’s job.”

And she wasn’t stepping down; she didn’t have to say that.

“Clint doesn’t want me to do this.”

“To get pregnant?” Bucky asked, his tone dry. “Because his issue with you dating boys is just too fucking bad.” Pretty much Steve’s opinion on that one. He liked Clint, admired him, and respected him. But he didn’t get to make this decision for Natasha.

She laughed and she squeezed Steve’s hand. “No, he doesn’t want me to fight so hard to remember. He’s worried if I do—if I do it I won’t be me anymore.” When her gaze shifted to Steve, he read the wariness there. She’d worried about the same thing. Sitting on the quinjet, trying to shake off the drugs while she fought a brutal concussion and it had been one of the first times they’d really discussed what they wanted or what they could have.

What she didn’t know and couldn’t remember had been an obstacle then.

“I’m going to tell you now what I told you then,” Steve said quietly. “You have to be you. If you want to keep digging, if you want those pieces back, I’m with you—‘til the end of the line, Angel.”

“So am I,” Bucky told her. “We can take it. And I knew Natalia—she wasn’t so bad, Doll.”

“She worries me, a little.”

That kind of surprised Steve.

“You are her,” Bucky said firmly. “I see her in you. Maybe you have forgotten details, but who she was is who you are. The will to protect what you love, the cleverness for solving puzzles, the sheer obstinate determination to do it your way—Natalia, you’re still you.”

“He doesn’t want to lose his best friend. I told him that was crazy, I would always be his best friend.” Another shuddering breath pushed out of her. “Am I being too self-involved in this? Too selfish? I don’t know what this will cost either of you. I’m all for doing this… I want Mary back, but—she’s not a baby anymore. That part of her life that I could have had is gone. What if she’s grown and has a family of her own? What if she has a life? Do I have the right to saddle her with me?”

“Okay, first?” Steve said firmly. “That’s enough of that shit right there. You have the right to know her and to know who she is. If you find her, and it turns out she’s safe and happy and has a good life—then you make the decision whether you meet her or not. But don’t mistake for an instant that you don’t have the right to know or that you aren’t a phenomenal mother who gave up everything for her. Just like her dad.” Steve swung his gaze from her to Bucky. “You both—you have the right to know. She’s your kid. No one is saying you have to do a damn thing with it, but you’ll sleep at night. You won’t be haunted by the wondering and Nat? I know that’s eating you up. It was before all of this.”

Before she remembered her and now? Steve couldn’t imagine. If it was his kid? No, he wouldn’t stop and she shouldn’t have to either.

“I want to know. I have to. I’m not ready to think about pregnancy or getting pregnant. I can’t even wrap my head around it. The idea is… terrifying.”

“I will never let anyone take your child again,” Bucky said quietly, his voice so solemn it broke Steve’s heart. “We have so many more people around us. You will not be alone.”

“He’s right, Angel. If it happens… it happens. We will protect both of you.”

“If it happens… But I can’t hope for that. I’m obsessing about the past right now…”

“Then we focus on getting your memories and finding Mary,” Steve said and he slanted a look at Bucky. Bucky nodded once. “We take care of you right now.”

“When do you want to start with Strange?”

As much as he hated to admit it, Bucky was right. That was the next step. They had to brace themselves to get her through this.

“I have to help Peter tomorrow…”

Steve didn’t sigh and he didn’t make a face. “Read us in?” He loved this woman—every stubborn, independent, and frustrating inch of her. He wouldn’t change a thing. And because he was a good boyfriend and fantastic team lead, he put another sandwich on a plate and nudged it to her. “And eat that.”

Bucky smirked and Natasha gave him a look, but she picked up the sandwich and took a bite. Then told them about Peter’s issue with the Vulture and going with him to revisit the previous scenes, going back to the beginning.

As plans went, it wasn’t bad.

“Did you assume you were doing this on your own?” He asked pinching the bridge of his nose. He would not yell at her.

“No, I assumed I’d be doing it with Peter.”

He dropped his hand and stared at her. Now? Now, he was going to yell.

**Natasha**

A vein in Steve’s forehead began to throb and he _glared_ at her. Genuinely, glared and everything in her system buoyed. No kid gloves, no tentative shifts like she was too fragile to handle it.

Since she was playing with fire, she stoked the flames. “Why? Think I’m not up to it?”

“Nope,” Steve said not missing a beat. “You’re always up for anything. Even when you shouldn’t even try. Me? Not so much.”

“You don’t have to go…” Yep, totally waving a red flag to a bull. The bland look on James’ face told her he knew exactly what she was doing. On the other hand, Steve had been white knuckling his way through this for her and he needed to let some of that steam out. While she wasn't quite up for sparring, yet. This would have to do.

“Romanoff,” Steve all but swore her name and she narrowed her eyes.

“Rogers.” There he went.

He tapped two fingers on the table, leaning forward. She could all but feel the anger rolling off him. “Let’s be clear. This isn’t the Black Widow show. You are not a lone operative who has to run a shadow op. You are the second in command—about to be demoted—member of the Avengers.” Better.

“Demoted?”

“What would you do with a member of the team who didn’t want to take advantage of their team and kept pulling solo ops without even running it past you?”

Smirking, she held up one finger. “I take advantage of the team when I need the team.” She added a second finger. “I ran it past me, I’m good with it.” His eyebrows twitched, gathering like a storm.

Yes. The frown. She’d scored the frown and her smile grew which just seemed to incite him more. He’d let her vent at him, he and James both.

“Three, if I were really running it solo I wouldn’t have brought it up to you in the first place.” Setting her chin in her hand, she propped her elbow on the table. “But keep yelling, it’s been a while…” She’d missed this. Arguing with Steve was a good way to fire up the day.

Steve stared at her, his expression clearing, lips compressing and then his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head. “You were winding me up.”

James sighed. “And you walked right into it, Stevie.”

“Maybe,” she teased, then reaching over to catch his fingers. “Still mad at me?”

“Debating how bad it would be if I actually spanked you right now.”

Her system did a little flip-flop, moderately intrigued and yet… “Raincheck?”

“Oh, I’ll keep a tally,” he promised and then lifted his hand toward her face, but hesitated until she nodded. Cupping her cheek, he stared at her. “Take backup? Even if nothing happens.”

“I think it should be a group field trip. We’ll all see different things, different perspectives and it’s a good lesson for Peter.” She glanced between them. “Good for all of us. Besides… it could be fun.”

Steve bowed his head. “You have a strange definition of fun… sometimes.”

“People keep telling me that.” She covered his hand on her cheek, then pressed a kiss to his palm before lowering it to the table. Much better. The lines of tension around his eyes had eased.

James’ phone rang and he shifted to pull it out of his pocket. He stared at it for a beat, then held the phone to her.

Logan’s name was on the screen.


	12. Dyadya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan comes bearing a gift--and answers

**Chapter Twelve**

**Dyadya**

**Natasha**

Some of the relief and lightness they’d mustered faded. Her stomach bottomed and she pressed the answer button on the phone and put it to her ear. “Malen'kiy dyadya?”

“Natty,” Logan said by way of greeting in his gruff voice. “Don’t tell me you’re already in a jam, we just got you out of one like ten minutes ago. What’s wrong with those idiots you’re hanging out with?”

“Not a damn thing.” There was something to be said for hearing his grumbling. Pushing away from the table, she paced over to the windows. She didn’t care if Steve and James listened, but she couldn’t sit still. “I was calling you for a more personal matter.”

“Yeah?” The sound of traffic in the background told her he was on the street.

“Let me say hi,” Remy muttered.

“Shut up,” Logan growled. “She wanted to talk to me, not you.”

Natasha grinned.

“But _I_ am her favorite.”

“You’re about to be her favorite memory.” He huffed out a long breath and she could half smell the cigar. “I figure you wanted to do this face to face, not like we had a lot of time to talk in China what with you playing damsel there at the end.”

“Bite me,” Natasha retorted. “And yes, I would like to do this face to face—where are you? We can come to you.”

“We?”

“Yes, we, don’t be cagey. You’re a we right now, too.”

“No, I’m me and a pain in the ass I can’t seem to shake. He’s bored.”

“Well, you could send him to New Orleans to clean his room.”

“Boo!” Remy objected. “You wound me.”

“Not as much as I can,” Logan groused.

“Dyadya, where are you?” The nickname took her back, he’d earned it a long time before—now she realized even longer than she’d known.

“I’m standing in front of this obscene Tower and it’s colder than a witch’s nipple down here.”

“You do not hang out with the right witches,” Remy commented. “You should let me introduce you to some people.”

“And there might be a homicide if you don’t let me in.”

Pivoting, she grinned. “Hang on. I’m coming down to get you.”

Steve and James were already standing. She muted the phone.

“Did you get that?”

Steve nodded. “Where do you want to talk to them?”

“Here…? Would that be all right? We can go up to the common room.” This was their space.

“Wherever you want, Doll.”

Frowning, Steve tapped his fingers against the table thoughtfully. “Common room. Then if you two need to break away to talk to Logan in private you can bring him here or your floor and I’ll deal with—what’s the other one’s name?”

“Remy,” she and James said at the same time.

“I’ll take care of Remy. Do you want me to tell Tony and Clint?”

“Clint can help with Remy,” Natasha said, but James snorted. At her raised eyebrows he shook his head.

“Later, Doll, it’s fine. You want to head down?”

“Yes,” she was already heading for the elevator, when James hooked her arm and pulled her back.

“Clothes, Natalia.”

She glanced down. Dammit. Unmuting the phone, she said, “Logan, I’m going to tell security to let you in. I’ll be down in the elevator in five. Try to not strangle Remy in the meanwhile?”

“No promises,” he said. “But I’ll be here.” The phone call ended.

“Friday? Logan and Remy Lebeau are out front, can you please authorize them into the building. Tell security I’ll be right down to pick them up.” After handing James his phone, she diverted into her room. After shimmying out of the boxers, she pulled out a pair of yoga pants, and an oversized sweater. She left Steve’s shirt on and pulled the sweater over it.

James was already in the open elevator when she came back out. “Stevie went up to the Common Room.”

“I shouldn’t have picked on him.” The prick of guilt needled her and James gave her a dry look.

“Stevie is fine. You picking on him was a good thing. Breathe Natalia.”

Blowing out a breath, she clenched her fists and then forced them to relax. “He might know.”

“I know,” James told her. “He’s here. We have time. Breathe.”

With each breath, she brought her heart rate down and quieted the sensation of her bones vibrating. It was the weirdest feeling—almost as disquieting as Strange knocking her astral form out of her body? Did that mean soul? Putting a pin back in that particular thought, she focused on the here—Avengers Tower and the now—Logan and Remy were coming to dinner.

“Better?” he asked as the elevator doors opened.

“Yes,” she murmured, throwing him a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Always, lyubov moya.”

A weary and put upon Logan stood in the middle of the lobby while Remy leaned against the security desk grinning like an idiot. They both glanced at her as she appeared and Remy swept across the open space before she got two steps out of the elevator and swept her up.

“Boo!” The hug was fierce and even as her skin went icy and the chill raced up her back and over her skull, she forced herself not to react. She returned his hug then extracted herself even as James was there. “Boo’s boy!”

With a roll of her eyes, she turned to Logan. He eyed her, giving her a hard visual once over. Instead of hugging her, he held out his hand and she took it and when he raised his brows, she narrowed the distance and hugged him.

“You’re wound up, Natty,” he murmured against her ear.

There was no point in lying, he could smell it. “It’s been a long few days,” she told him, leaning back. “Thank you for coming.”

He stared at her, his gaze searching. “You’re sure you’re fine?”

“No,” she admitted. “But I’m working on it.”

He nodded to her then glanced to where James and Remy waited. James studied him in return. “This is James Barnes?”

“Bucky,” James told him and offered him a hand. “We spoke briefly when you contacted Clint.”

Logan nodded once, then took his hand in a brief handshake. “Good to meetcha.”

“And you—thank you for helping Natalia.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Didn’t do it for you.”

“Didn’t say you did,” James retorted and Logan smirked.

“I like this one, Natty.”

“Right?” Remy threw an arm around James’ shoulders, seemingly unaware of the coolness in James’ gaze. “Didn’t I tell you I liked him better than the archer?”

Patiently, James said, “How have you managed to survive this long?”

Remy grinned. “I’m Boo’s favorite.” He squeezed his shoulders then looked right at Natasha. “Right?”

“Behave and you can keep telling people that.” She motioned him into the elevator, aware of the electronic surveillance and the security guards keeping an eye on them. Once inside, she said, “Common Room, please Friday.”

“Natasha,” Friday sounded almost apologetic. “Logan appears to be in possession of a great deal of heavy metal—weapons sweep cannot clear him.”

“Override, my authority. Trust me, we couldn’t remove the metal and he’s a friend.” She caught Logan’s faint snort.

“Boss wants me to verify that you’re sure, Natasha?” The elevator hadn’t moved an inch and she could appreciate Tony’s caution.

Remy snort laughed. “See, Cranky Pants, even the computer knows I’m the favorite. Thank you, Number One.” He saluted the cameras.

“Loverboy,” Natasha said with a sigh and he gave her a cheeky grin, then mimed zipping his lips. Twisting, she glanced at James. “Did you see Logan fight when you all came for me?”

“Not directly,” James answered. “I saw him cover you from the fire and that he was severely burned but protected you.” Which meant he would have seen how swiftly Logan healed or at least be aware of it now. He healed faster than any person she’d ever known and that included Steve and James.

“Logan—do you mind showing them?”

As he straightened, Natasha shifted so she was between James and Logan.

“James… he’s not a threat. Okay? The first time you see it can be startling.” Leaning back against James was more for both of them; she didn’t want him too startled. He slipped his arm around her waist.

Voice low, he said, “This good?”

She stroked the back of his hand and nodded once. Logan eyed her then James and smirked. “Natty’s been busy.”

“Just shut up and show them please.”

He held up his hands palm first, then the back of his hands demonstrating he had nothing. After stripping off his jacket, he threw it at Remy. The other man caught it with a smirk, then Logan said, “I’m not carrying metal, I am metal.”

His claws sliced out, three on each hand bursting from between his knuckles. Blood slid between his fingers, slowing almost immediately.

Leaning her head back, she glanced at the cameras. “Override authorization please?”

“Done,” came Tony’s direct response. “I didn’t realize those were literally attached.”

“No problem,” Logan said and he retracted the claws before wiping off his knuckles on his jeans. Remy tossed him the jacket back and Natasha glanced up at James. He looked at Logan thoughtfully and gave her a gentle squeeze. Threat assessment on Logan would be off the charts—she recognized that.

Tony and Clint were with Steve when they reached the common room level. Remy strolled out of the elevator, his head on a swivel as he scanned everything. Probably casing the room and security, it was second nature to him like it was to her.

“Hey, the B-Team,” Remy said, grinning. “Richie Rich. Archer man—see you got replaced. We like the upgrade.”

Natasha sighed and Logan rolled his eyes. “I blame you for him, Natty.”

“I blame me, too,” she murmured as she linked her fingers with James before following Logan out of the elevator.

“You’re Captain America,” Remy said, offering Steve his hand. “Big fan.”

Steve gave him a bemused look as he shook his hand. “Remy?”

“Hey,” Remy said, grinning as he shook Steve’s hand. “He knows me. Ha. Totally the favorite.”

Logan groaned. “Swamp Rat, you’re embarrassing yourself.” He glanced at Clint. “Barton.”

“Logan.”

“Remy, shush,” Natasha said when he opened his mouth to retort. “Officially, Remy ‘currently in danger of losing his favored status because he’s being irritating about it’ Lebeau and Logan—this is Steve Rogers and Tony Stark.”

“Captain,” Logan said. “We met. Briefly.”

“We did over the video call. Thank you again for the assist.”

Tony eyed him then extended his hand. “We met—briefly.”

“Yeah,” Logan shook his hand once. Remy immediately stepped forward and Tony gave him a bemused look.

“You and I met, remember?”

“Oh,” Remy said, snapping his fingers as he backed up. “Right, I’m the one that got you two out of that bitch of a cell. You’re welcome by the way.”

Chuckling, Natasha shook her head. Remy was incorrigible.

“Anyone want something to drink? Coffee? Sedative? Tranquilizer?” Clint said, muttering as he turned for the kitchen, “Not enough alcohol on the planet.”

“I’ll take a beer,” Logan said.

“No alcohol,” Natasha corrected. “We’re dry here.” They would be at any event Tony attended.

Both Remy and Logan stared at her like she’d sprouted a second head. “Now I know why you called me,” Logan stated. “I’ll get you out.”

James chuckled and Steve shook his head, a hand over his mouth as though trying to contain his amusement. Tony squinted at her. “I can handle it if the rest of you drink.”

“And still, you don’t have to.” Natasha was not going to torment Tony, he’d been doing great. Though she might take Logan to her floor and the vodka, later.

Tony shook his head, but he didn’t dispute it and then he suggested food. Steve corralled Remy and Tony toward the kitchen leaving she and James alone with Logan. They were just around the corner from the kitchen but the wall offered some sound insulation.

Logan pivoted to look at her. “What’s up, Natty?”

“Do you remember when we first met?”

“Sure, it was…”

“The first time, we met,” she added quietly, her gaze fixed on his. He didn’t look away or down but studied her in return. “In Canada.”

He exhaled slowly. “You remembered?”

Vertigo rippled through her. Confirmation. The memory was _real_. She was hot and cold at once. He flicked a look past her to James. Laughter came from the direction of the kitchen.

“You want to have this conversation here?”

“Let’s go to my floor…” She glanced at James.

“Go Doll, I’ll come down if you…”

“Yes.” It wasn’t a question at all. She squeezed his hand. “Yes, I want you there.”

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

Logan said nothing until they were in the elevator. “It safe to talk in here?”

“It is, but we can wait.” She still needed to get equilibrium back. It was one thing to believe the memory was real, but until Logan confirmed it—she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t wishful thinking, a desperate attempt of her mind to escape the agony and give her somewhere else to be.

The doors opened to her floor and she strode out ahead of him. Her skin buzzed and she had a faint tremble in her hands as she pulled open the freezer. There were three bottles of vodka.

A peek in the fridge said Friday had it restocked. Dragging a bottle out, she unscrewed the top and took a long pull straight from the neck before retrieving a couple of glasses.

Logan eyed her. “I take it we’re not dry down here.”

“No,” she told him and filled his glass before pushing it to him. “Like I said, Tony isn’t drinking, so we don’t drink in front of him.”

“Got it.” Logan tossed back the vodka and Natasha filled a glass for herself. “Natty?”

She held up a single finger and drained the glass before she filled it again and gave him another. The elevator opened and James arrived to rejoin them. Logan eyed her as she glanced at the last third in the bottle; she drained it before dropping the now empty bottle in the trash. It was a waste of very expensive vodka to slam it like shots, but the icy heat slid through her system and by the end of the bottle, helped steady her hands.

Some.

When she pulled a second bottle out, James took it without a word, opened it and set it next to her.

Finally, Natasha looked at Logan. “You met me in Canada… in 1973.”

“On the Trans-Canadian Highway… with your daughter.” Confirmation.

Confirmation hurt like hell.

Logan glanced at James. “The husband?”

She lifted her glass and nodded once.

“You survived whatever they did to you, too, then.” It wasn’t really a question.

“So far,” James told him.

A thousand questions burned on her tongue. But Natasha only had one… “What happened? To my daughter? Do you know?”

Logan frowned then lifted the glass and downed the full measure before sitting back on the counter. They surrounded her kitchen counter like it was a bar in some rundown dive. That seemed more appropriate for this conversation.

“Mary—you said her name was Mary.” Logan slid his hand into his pocket. “When you left the message—I wondered.” He pulled out his wallet and unfolded it and then took out a faded, bent in half photo and slid it across the counter to her. “I took that the last day we were together. Promised you I’d give it to you someday and you said only if you asked. You had to ask me. You had to be the one who brought it up.”

Natasha couldn’t move.

The photo had definitely faded but she sat at a picnic table, the sun highlighting her red hair. She’d braided it and the braid hung over one shoulder. But it was the little girl in her lap, gazing up at her with this smile as Natasha beamed down at her. The sun on her dark curls showed some red, but they were more deep brown—like her father.

Greedy, Natasha drank in the image.

Mary Elizabeth was real. The memories—this was her.

“Been wanting to give you that for about thirty years, Natty. Almost threw it away a couple of times. Forgot about it a couple of times, too.” The apology in Logan’s tone scraped over her. James picked up the photo slowly and stared at it. “I can tell you what I know… but after I took that photo, I don’t know what you did exactly. I know what you talked about. I know what you warned me about.”

Her throat hurt and she slammed back the next glass.

“Does Remy know?”

“Nope,” Logan assured her, “Didn’t tell anyone. Look… you were with me for about a week. First leg, I got you to Regina. You were gonna cut and run there. Said your goodbyes and took off. But… you were a lady and alone. Had the kid. I got to feeling bad about leaving you there so I doubled-back. You had a group on you—four or five fellas. You had two of them down when I got there, helped you with the other three. You told me I should get out of there; you only had Hell following you. I told you to get the kid in the truck. We drove the bodies out. Made them disappear and kept going.”

Nat swallowed. “They found me that fast?”

“No, turned out they had folks in most of the cities, on the lookout. Bounties, pretty pricy ones. I picked up trails in Calgary, too. I don’t like folks who hunt women. I got you and Mary to Toronto. Took us some doing—kept off main roads where I could. You were a suspicious little shit, didn’t trust me, not sure you ever truly did. Not then. You couldn’t figure out why I was helping and I told you I had to help. I’ve been on the run before and maybe you deserved whatever those folks was doing but not your kid. Pretty sure you stuck with me for the moppet.”

He cleared his throat and poured himself another glass of vodka as James pulled out a third glass and poured his own before he refilled Natasha’s. He hadn’t put down the photo and she’d barely been able to look away from it.

“You made a point of telling me a few things—not a lot. Nothing to compromise yourself—not even your real name. But you said you had to get your girl away. You had to find a place to hide her. I knew people, but no one who could do that. Didn’t think you’d trust me with that anyway. You insisted you knew someone who could. You just had to get there.”

“Took us a little over a week, we got to Toronto and I got a friend to run you and Mary across the lake toward Rochester. Paid him pretty good.” Logan barked out a little laugh. “Found out you left me money after—pissed me off at the time, but you were long gone.”

With a sigh, he stared at her. “Natty, you told me if I ever met you again—don’t trust you. Don’t ever turn my back on you. Whatever else I did, _never_ mention your daughter. Don’t bring it up unless you asked. When I did meet you again—you never asked. You didn’t know me. Belligerent, untrusting and dark as fuck—but without a stink of a lie when you looked at me like you’d never seen me before.”

Of course, she hadn’t. “You kept your word.”

“Yep,” he said and he lifted his glass in toast to her. “I know what it’s like not to remember—killed me that I couldn’t tell you. If someone knew that about me, I’d want them to tell me. But you… you were so sure and I didn’t want to screw things up for you.”

Natasha looked at the photo again as James swiped a hand across his face and her heart squeezed.

“You said I went to New York?”

“Yeah—that’s the thing,” he eyed her. “You called yourself Natalie Rogers. Got papers made for you and the kid, then headed to New York. You did some research before you went, in newspapers—had me bring you a lot of them.”

“Okay?” The second bottle was nearly empty and she could probably kill the third one in there, but nothing seemed to touch the rawness in her soul. James covered her hand and she gripped his. Needing that connection. Needing it to ground her. “James is from Brooklyn—he had a aversion to going there. Was that what I was doing?”

“You went to New York for a person…” Logan glanced from her to James then back. “I figured that was why you joined the team in the first place. You were looking for Howard Stark.”

Howard?

Part of the counter cracked as James gripped it with his left hand and Logan looked at him sharply.

“Yeah—I’m getting that you really didn’t remember that part and still don’t.”

“You’re sure she was going to find Howard?” Pain creased through James’ expression and it was her turn to cover his hand,

“Those were the articles she was clipping, reports on where he and his family were going. Something about Flushing for some big to do he wanted to build.”

“The Expo,” Natasha said slowly. “But that was in ’74.”

Logan shrugged. “I wish I had more for you, Natty. But after I put you on that boat, I went and made some noise to try and lead people away from you. I didn’t see you again for another eleven years.”

“You have a picture of her, malen'kiy dyadya,” she said, unable to express what that meant. She drained her glass then took the photo in her fingers carefully. James stilled her hand and turned it slightly.

On the back it read: Natalie and Mary Rogers, 1973.

A wet huff of a chuckle and James tilted his head back. She stared at the photo and traced her fingers over Mary’s face. The angle was perfect. The smile was so—free and bubbly. Her mouth was wide open like she’d been squealing with laughter. Natasha’s—well Natalia’s face was likewise animated, the shadows kind of hid her eyes but everything in her face said she loved that little girl and they were having so much fun together.

It was tangible, more than the memory she’d unearth and clung to. This photo was all she had—Mary had existed.

“This is why you made an effort to know me even when I was such a…”

“Charming, but deadly woman who could drink me under the table?” Logan smirked and she snorted.

“I think you mean the other way around.” They’d closed plenty of bars. He’d been a friend even when she had no idea what that meant. She teasingly called him little uncle because he would occasionally scold her and they were of similar height.

“You knew about me,” James said abruptly, staring at Logan. “You weren’t surprised about who I was.”

“Natty warned me about you, too. Told me about the Winter Soldier and to avoid him. She told me a lot without telling me much.” He eyed her. “For what it’s worth—I wanted to hide you both. But I didn’t have much back then. Still don’t most days…”

Natasha focused on Logan. “You helped me, you held onto me.” She lifted the photo. “You held on to this.”

The debt she owed him could never be paid.

The silence stretched out between them. Natasha wasn’t even sure how long they stood there. She had more questions. So many and she kept turning Howard’s name over in her head. Why would she have gone to Howard Stark? Had she remembered him?

Had she broken the compulsion then somehow? Why…

A chime sounded from overhead and Logan spared an upward glance.

“Yes, Friday?” James answered.

“Boss and Captain Rogers want you to know food has arrived.” Friday’s solemn voice reminded her she hadn’t put Friday in privacy mode. She’d been too focused on Logan. On what he’d said.

With a look at her, James said, “You need to eat.”

“I can go,” Logan said. “I’ll take Swamp Rat with me. Give you some time. But I’ll be in the city, stick around in case you need me.”

Natasha swallowed. “You don’t have to go.”

So many questions.

“Natty, Swamp Rat will pummel you with questions and you look like Hell. Your team should be taking better care of you.”

“They take fine care of me,” she said. “I’m just stubborn.”

He snorted. “Shocker.”

A grin worked its way across her face. Circling the island abruptly, she wrapped her arms around him and he hugged her. The war between not being touched and needing to thank him waged inside of her and she ignored both sides.

“Logan…”

“I know… Swamp Rat isn’t the favorite anymore.” The dry comment pulled a real laugh out of her. “Don’t tell him. He’s such a needy shit, he’ll drive you nuts trying to get the pole position back.”

Even James chuckled at that one. He held out his hand again and Logan shook it. “Thank you for looking after my family,” James told him.

“Wish I could have done more, bub.”

She finished the last bit of vodka and kept careful hold of the photo.

They took the elevator up and Logan strolled out onto the common room floor and practically carried Remy—and a half-dozen containers of take out Chinese—to the elevator. Natasha accepted Remy’s quick kiss to the cheek and the promise to talk soon and then they were gone.

The conversation had ground to a halt at their arrival.

James stood quietly, his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to join them by the sofas. Exhaustion vied with elation—she had proof, she had some answers, but not _the_ answers.

Why the hell had she…?

“Tasha?” Clint called, his voice quiet and she glanced over to find him, Tony, and Steve watching her and James with nearly universal concern on their faces. “He knew.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded slowly and moved to join them. She held out the photo in her hand to Steve. He wiped his hands on his pants after setting the container down and took it carefully. Then like someone cut her strings, she just sat on the sofa next to him. James eased down next to her and she shifted. He started to move away, but she curled next to him and he lifted his arm.

Staring at the photo, Steve said, “She’s beautiful.”

“Just like her mother,” James answered.

Steve’s eyes were wet when he met her gaze. “Logan?”

A little nod. “He’s had that for forty years… didn’t give it to me because I hadn’t asked. I told him not to tell me anything—the day he took that. Warned him I might not know him if I ever saw him again.”

How could she be so empty and so full at the same time?

James rubbed her arm gently as Clint wiped off his hands to accept the photo from Steve. Her best friend stared at the image and a faint smile touched his lips. She could almost see it in his eyes when he looked at her. “She really is pretty Nat—but holy hell, how long was your hair?”

A watery laugh broke out of her and James snorted. “Very long.” He combed his fingers through her hair. “She used to let me braid it.”

“Let you or insisted you help me?” Because she couldn’t imagine him begging her to do that.

“A little bit of both,” James murmured.

“Can I make you a plate?” Steve asked quietly. She shrugged. The vodka had filled her stomach, blunting some of the jagged pieces but not enough.

“Get her something, Stevie. Keep it light.” James pressed his lips to the top of her head, while she curled against him he still kept the contact gentle, easy movements.

With a sigh, Clint passed the photo to Tony who accepted it like it was a priceless object and when he stared at the photo, his frown deepened.

“I can—scan this and see if Friday can lift the colors, sharpen it for you.” Tony always wanted to fix things.

“Just don’t hurt the picture. I want to keep that.” She wanted to put it in a frame, keep it forever. If it helped Tony to do something, she couldn’t object.

“You don’t need to keep it for a while or anything do you?” James asked.

“No,” Tony said. “Friday and I can do it right now.” He had his phone out and scanned the image.

Steve filled a plate with a combination fried rice. Instead of chopsticks, he set a spoon on the side and when he held it out to her, she shifted to sit up a little and take it.

“What did he say?” Clint asked. “Does he know where you went?”

James glanced at her. Did she want him to tell them? She nodded and then took a bite of the rice. It was tasteless, despite the scent. Or maybe she just couldn’t bring herself to taste it. Steve sat sideways, close and she bumped his knee with hers. It was okay, she wanted him there and he ran his hand down her back lightly as James filled them in.

When they got to the part about Howard, Steve and Tony both went still.

“You went to see Dad?” Tony stared at her. “Seriously?”

“That’s what Logan said. He said I was looking at papers, tracking where he went. He was getting ready to break ground on a huge project in Flushing.”

“The Expo.” With care, Tony passed the photo back to James and she glanced at it as James stared down at it, too. “Did he remember you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Remember you?” Steve asked. “When did you meet Howard?”

Tony grimaced, his eyes holding an apology. It was fine. “I should have told you before,” she said quietly. Setting the food down, she scooted forward. “I need water.”

“I can…” Steve said, but she waved him back to the chair.

“I need to move, too.”

“When we were at Arkhangelsk—when Fenhoff or Smith, whatever his name was, imitated Ivan’s voice and used the trigger commands…” She raised her voice as she walked to the kitchen. There were water bottles stored in the fridge and she half-thought about the vodka still on her floor.

She needed one long binger and she might do that later. Just her and enough vodka to numb it all. After grabbing extras for everyone, she carried them back and set them on the table. Twisting hers open, she sat on the cushion between James and Steve, scooting back so she could see them both.

“He told me to remember…when I was strapped to that chair and you were all in your cells?”

Steve nodded once so did James.

“When he told me that—it broke through all the old compulsions Ivan left there the things he’d told me to forget. Including the one about if they ever took James from me, I was to leave.”

James retrieved her plate from the table and handed it back to her and then she nudged it toward him.

“You need to eat, too.”

“I’ll get some in a minute,” he argued, nudging it back .

“Anyway,” she continued, setting the plate on her knees. “One of the missions Ivan sent me on was to the Helsinki Olympics in 1952.”

Recognition settled into James’ eyes. “When they were looking for me.”

“Maybe—chasing rumors, chasing ghosts. I don’t know. Ivan never told me anything other than to observe them. Track where they went and who they talked to. I got close, but Helsinki isn’t that large and the Olympic pavilion and the athletes along with the spectators is a shallow pool—Howard noticed me at a café across the street.”

“And he came over to hit on you,” Steve said dryly and then he shook his head.

“More or less. He invited me to go dancing with them. Peggy and her husband came over…” Here she hesitated and Steve gave her a small smile.

“Not news to me, Angel. I know she got married. I’m still turning it over in my head that you met her…”

“I was undercover.” Not that it was an excuse. “It doesn’t really matter, I ended spending a few days with them. Now that they’d seen me, it was hard to follow them without them noticing and since they kept inviting me along, I played the part. It let me monitor them closely. I knew they were looking for something, but never the details. They were friendly and it was fun. Good conversations, dancing most evenings and… then it was over. They were going home and I returned to Ivan.”

She glanced at James.

“If they were looking for you, I didn’t find that out. As far as I can remember from that time, you weren’t there but—I don’t know.”

“I wasn’t,” James said slowly. “In ’52, you and I were mostly doing missions in Asia and the Baltics. Though there was a three week period you were recalled… but you never mentioned Helsinki when you came back.”

“Because she didn’t remember,” Clint said, and then scrubbed a hand over his face. “Have I ever mentioned how much I wish I could go back in time and just scratch a few people off?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said to James, then glanced at Steve. “I just—after I didn’t really think about it. Sometimes it feels like it happened to another person…but I liked Peggy. I liked her husband, too. They were… they were nice.”

Steve studied her. “And Howard?”

“Don’t ask if they fondue’d,” Tony threw out. “I’m begging you.”

The silence that met that had Natasha staring at Tony. “What?”

James broke the silence as he laughed. “I forgot about that…”

“Shut up,” Steve said, even as he chuckled.

Natasha glanced at Clint and he shook his head. What were they talking about?

“When Dad was…”

“Nope,” Steve said.

“Aww. Cap it’s…”

“Nope.”

Curiosity niggled at her particularly since James seemed to be having trouble not snickering.

“Pretty sure Bucky over there is going to tell her,” Tony pointed out. “Spoiler alert, she and Dad didn’t fondue.”

“Well technically we did…”

James swallowed his laughter and stared at her. “What?”

Even as Steve frowned.

“Woah…” Tony pointed a finger at her. “You went out and had fondue with Dad and Aunt Peggy, right?”

“Yes, it’s called eating a meal. If you are referring to fondue as a euphemism for sex…” She looked at Steve. “Then no.”

He made a relieved sound and James actually scrubbed a hand over his face then shook his head, “Yeah, no, Good. Just no.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Tony agreed.

“Explain how fondue became a euphemism for sex,” Clint said. “In the 40s. Cause…that’s weird.”

“Fine,” Steve said with a wave of his hand. “Go ahead, Tony I know you’re dying to tell it.”

Natasha only half-listened, her attention more on Steve than on the story. When she slid a hand to him, he took it and clasped it between both of his. By the time Tony finished, Clint and James were both laughing and Steve gave her a wry look. “I got better.”

“You did,” she murmured, squeezing his hand. “I’ll fondue with you anytime.”

Clint groaned and then made gagging noises. “TMI, Nat.”

“I happen to like fondue. Cheese and bread are amazing, but I like the chocolates and the fruit, too. You have a dirty mind, Barton.”

He smirked. “It’s a terrible thing to waste.”

When she reached for her spoon, Steve let go of her hand, but he focused on James for a minute. The humor bled away, the brief shower of laughter a respite in the quiet sadness.

“You don’t know if Dad remembered,” Tony said, bringing them back full circle.

“No, I don’t know if I found him. If he remembered me… and there’s no one left from then. Is there? Anyone who would have been around your dad then?”

“Me.” Tony shrugged. “No Red, I don’t know. That was a long time ago. But we can look. You get on that Friday?”

“Already checking, Boss. Not seeing much hope in the search, though.”

“Then we’re back to me…”

Back to her using BARF—SPARK, whatever Tony had renamed it to. That meant getting Strange to clear her, which required triggering an episode so he could get a look at it. See if he could offer other solutions, though it sounded more and more like BARF was the solution.

The conversation meandered around the elephant in the room and her gaze returned to the photo time and again. When she’d finished eating, James handed it to her and he got his own plate. Still, none of them left the common room. It was weird. Not festive at all, no tree. They barely used this floor. Not like they used to… and it seemed somehow fitting that they were here.

How things stayed the same even when they changed.

“Did you make a decision, Nat?” Clint asked finally. “About what you’re going to do?”

She glanced at James, holding his gaze for a beat and he nodded. Steve brushed his knuckles against her knee and she shifted her attention to him. They’d talked about this—before Logan called. She’d told them what she wanted to do. Why she had to do it.

“We do the test—we find a way to trigger an episode. Let Strange monitor it. Get his opinion…” She licked her lips, then added, “Then we ask T’Challa and speak to his sister, we get a second opinion.”

The relief in the room was so palpable it almost knocked her over. But she glanced down at the photo in her hand. _Malyshka._

“We’ll find her…”

“I’ll dig around and see if I can find anything about you seeing Dad,” Tony offered. “No idea where the hell to look but—there might be something. We used to have a ton of Dad’s old projects and notes out at the Compound before I converted it. Friday, where did we store all of that?”

“Some of it is here in the Tower, Boss. Most of it anyway. The rest you sent out to Stark Industries corporate in Los Angeles. You were planning to digitize the records. We didn’t get that far and you wanted to go through the items and inventions, see if anything there was worth salvaging.”

“Yay,” Tony moaned and stretched. “Guess I know what I’m doing.”

“I can help,” Clint offered. “If it’s just looking through boxes. That’s gonna take some time.”

“We can all help,” Steve said. “But not tonight.”

“No,” James said. “No more. Everyone is tired.”

And she didn’t have to check; by everyone they meant her, though Tony and Clint looked beat.

“Tomorrow,” Clint said. “I go get Laura and the kids, we’re still doing family dinner on Friday, and we’ve got a lot of Christmas things to do.”

“I won’t miss it,” Natasha said.

“Kid, you do what you gotta do, we’ll figure this out.”

It didn’t take long after that to clean up, they took the elevator up, dropping Clint at his floor and when they got to Steve’s, Tony glanced up from where he leaned against the back wall.

“Red?”

She was a half step out of the elevator and she glanced back.

“Get some sleep before you call Strange?”

“I’ll do my best. Thanks for tonight.”

“You’re welcome… we’ll figure this out.”

“Night, Tony.”

“Hey…” He straightened and she raised her eyebrows. “When you’re feeling better, you know more you—can we train some more?”

“You’re volunteering as tribute?” The faint smile at the idea couldn’t quite dislodge the stone weighing her down, but it shifted some.

“Sure—why not. The odds have to be in my favor sooner or later.” He winked then stepped back and the doors closed.

After staring at the closed elevator for a moment, she walked over to where James set the photo of Mary on the shelf next to the others; it was propped against the one of her with the Bartons at Thanksgiving. It looked so out of place and at the same time, exactly where it should be.

“I’m going to let you guys…”

“Stevie,” James said abruptly. “If you want to crash in your room, that’s fine. I’m not asking you to sleep elsewhere.”

Natasha glanced at him. “I’m not either. I feel a little hollow at the moment and I’d really rather you were close, but if you can’t after…”

“Angel, I’m not mad. Yeah—it was weird to hear Tony knew you’d met Howard and Peggy, but we didn’t, but—I’m not mad.”

“I told him when he was having a bad moment at the UN, he’d gotten pretty pissed at one of the delegates and he needed to calm down. Telling him the story did it.” She sighed.

“I know, I get it. I could have lived without the fondue story though.”

The corner of James’ mouth kicked up. “It’s a fun story Stevie.”

“It didn’t happen to you,” Steve pointed out.

“Nope, that’s why I enjoy it so much.”

“Be nice,” Natasha said, not that she minded them picking on each other. In some ways, it was really nice. Tonight had been a bit of a shock for James, too. They got ready for bed, Natasha stripped back down to Steve’s t-shirt and reclaimed James’ boxers. After she washed her face, she brushed her teeth and stared at herself in the mirror.

The woman in the photo with the soft eyes and wide smile, she seemed a million years away from where Natasha was now. Happiness came and went, like the fierce tropical storm. Sometimes it stuck around, flooding everything. But the storm always passed and happiness was like that, too. Fleeting. It was why it was so valuable.

The droughts in between—it made the memories of rain so much more precious. But looking at that photo, she had her first look at a snapshot of Natalia’s life, the life she’d made for herself even in the midst of it falling down. In her mind there was a rotary index of photos—the album James and Tony found in Moscow—she’d been an empty-eyed child, nothing like her own daughter.

Nothing like she was now.

Natalia had been ground to dust then reassembled how many times?

Yet she could smile like that, effortless, warm, and filled with hope when there couldn’t possibly be any?

“Angel?” Steve’s voice tugged her from the mirror. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Buck went to take a shower.” He’d stripped down to a tank top and sweatpants. They were loose, but did little to hide his physique. “You want to tell me what’s going on in there?”

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Why do you call Logan malinky jaha?”

Natasha laughed. “Malen'kiy dyadya—Little uncle.”

“Why little uncle?”

“Because he’s little—like me. Because…because when I first knew him again, he would look after me. Give me jobs. Point me in the right direction. He was trying to be my friend when I wasn’t really sure what friends were. But he was bossy, grumpy, he would yell about things, grouse more…I used to think it was funny. He was a grumpy old uncle. More—he never wanted in my pants. I could count on him… didn’t always go the way I thought, but, if I needed help, he’d come.”

“He did. When Clint sent him word, he got back to us fast and he went looking for you right away.”

“He kept my secret. He kept Mary safe from me all these years.”

“I’m glad,” Steve told her. “I’m glad he had a photo for you—I’m glad I got to see her.”

Natasha smiled. “Me too.” The tears burned at the back of her throat. “It makes it real…I didn’t make it up in my head or…”

“Angel…”

Swiping away the tears. “Sometimes it’s hard to know what’s real and what isn’t.”

“I know. What can I do? What do you need?”

“Be you,” she said, pushing away from the door. “Be Steve.”

“Well, I have some experience at that.” Rising, he pulled the duvet and the covers back, and then let her crawl onto the bed to get in the middle. “How’s the rest of you doing? You got a lot of touching in today—Wanda, Clint… Buck.”

“You,” she reminded him, then patted the bed next to her. He sat and swung his legs up before leaned against the headboard and she wiggled under his arm and then curled against him, pressing her cheek to his chest. “I’m a little numb right now.”

“Numb bad? Or numb good?”

“Numb I have no idea.” Tilting her head back, she looked up at him. “Can I ask you a hard question?”

“Go for it.”

“Do you want kids?” Maybe plural was optimistic but the whole conversation was.

“Never thought it was going to be an option for me,” he told her after a long moment. “I was so sickly when I was a kid, breathing was hard on good days. Didn’t think I’d find a girl for one or live long enough to make it happen. Then the serum and… I think for a little while I thought maybe I’d have this chance, but later. You know after the war.”

Natasha ran her finger against his chest, just lightly drawing a pattern. Testing how much contact she could take. The vodka had helped. Maybe she could kill a couple three bottles a night.

“Then the ice and I woke up here,” Steve admitted. “Told Tony once that—the guy who went into the ice, the guy who wanted that stuff wasn’t here anymore. A different guy came out. I think I did come out different.” Then he focused on her. “When you told me about what they’d done to you—I hated them. Hated them for hurting you and thought—you and me? Long as we’re together I’m good. I don’t need anything else.”

“And now?”

“You and me?” Steve said slowly. “Long as we’re together. I’m good, I don’t need anything else.”

A little smile turned up her lips.

“Nat, I want you. I want—what we have. I want you to be happy. I love you. If you get pregnant, I’m going to love the hell out of that kid just like I love his or her mother. If you don’t? Well, you’re stuck with me regardless. I want the life we can have and I just want to see where we go and how we get there.”

“I second that,” James said quietly from the door. “I won’t ever say no to the idea of seeing you pregnant again. You—you have no idea how beautiful you were. But I’m not hanging my hat on it either, Doll. You—us—this family we’re building? That’s what I want.”

Steve squeezed her shoulders gently, then pressed his lips to her hair. “I’m not going to ask you what you want. Not yet. You told us you weren’t ready to think about it.”

After closing the door, James crossed over and settled on his side of the bed. “You have enough to think about. We’ll deal with the future when it gets here.”

“Do you guys really think we have one?” The question slipped out, but based on her history? “Can we?”

“Yes,” James said, conviction deepening his voice in the same breath as Steve’s quieter, but emphatic, “I do.”

“How? We—we fight aliens, ancient Nazi death cults, mad scientists, robots…apparently magic men and wizards and let’s not get started with aliens who also double as old Earth gods or at least play the part on TV…how do we make a future like that?”

Shifting on the bed, James rolled onto his side and patted the middle closer to him since she was sitting curled next to Steve. “C’mon, share her.”

Steve chuckled, and then they were all sorting themselves out and she was lying in the middle with one on either side lying on their sides. “Better?”

“Much,” James said. “Thank you.”

“Quite welcome.”

She rolled her eyes but she couldn’t suppress the laughter that popped up.

“Natalia,” James said. “When we were at the chalet and you didn’t want to have the conversation about what you wanted—about wanting both of us? Do you remember what you said about the past and the future?”

“You can’t change the past and you can’t count on the future, you only have today, so make the most of it.” Yes, she very much remembered what she said. It was what she believed. What she’d believed for a long time.

“You’re worried because you can’t count on what is coming tomorrow,” he continued. “Can’t say I’m a fan of some of the challenges we might face, but I can’t wait for the rest. For the sleigh rides, for taking you out like I should have for years, for going shopping, for going exploring –for being with you. You had a future—a potential one before—one I almost had with you. One I know you made plans for and you lost it. That would make anyone want to go the other way.”

“We all did,” Steve told her quietly. “All three of us had futures we wanted, maybe even ached for and we couldn’t hold onto them. I get it. You can’t count on the future. You’re right. You can count on us.”

“That’s really sappy,” Natasha said after a long moment. “I mean—really sappy.”

Steve tweaked her knee and laughter trilled out of her. “Sappy, Romanoff? Sappy is…” She rolled over and put her hand against his mouth. His eyes danced a little.

“I said it sounded sappy. Not bad.” Letting him go slowly, she rolled back to her spot. “I’m kind of getting used to sappy.”

“Oh, Doll,” James sighed. “Now you’ve done it.”

At her arched brow, he merely grinned.

“Buck’s right. Now we have to see which of us is the sappiest.”

She groaned and closed her eyes. “I love you,” she whispered. “Saps.”

They leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheeks, one on either side and when they would have pulled away, she tugged them back.

“You sure?” James said, forehead against her hair.

“I want to try. Just—stay close and don’t get mad if…”

“Not going to get mad, Angel,” Steve tugged his pillow over and they settled, each resting a hand on her, close a warm cage but not quite boxing her in.

Her eyes were so heavy.

“Sleep mode please, Friday,” Steve said.

“Goodnight,” Friday responded as the lights darkened and the floor secured. Natasha knew every process Friday would go through. She covered one of Steve’s hands with hers, then caught James’ hand as well.

No matter how tired her eyes, sleep wouldn’t come. But she drifted, holding onto them half-aware of their breathing.

Neither of them was asleep either.

“Movie?” she said abruptly.

“I’ll get the popcorn,” Steve said.

“I’ll set up the blankets and pillows in the living room,” James offered.

“I’ll get the cocoa.”

Fifteen minutes later, curled up between them with popcorn and hot cocoa, the opening bars of Harry Potter began and Steve cracked up at her choice. James hadn’t seen it yet, but she figured Steve would appreciate it.

There were eight movies to fill in the hours.

She was asleep before Harry boarded the train.


	13. Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange makes a house call and Nat breaks another memory open

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Wizard**

**Natasha**

“Follow the yellow brick road,” Natasha chanted as she led the run through the park. She’d been dressed before either of them; ready to go running after she let them both test her ribs. Bruised here and there, but no more fractures. Most of her bruises were fading, ugly yellow or greenish-yellow footprints of previous damage. Another couple of days and the evidence of the previous week would no longer be visible.

Even the one on her ankle, the mark of the shackle she’d covered with a sock had diminished. The least damaging and yet—she shoved the thought out of her head.

“Follow, follow, follow,” she continued. “Follow the yellow brick road.” If she could sing a little and run, it was good for testing her oxygen consumption. “Follow the rainbow over the stream. Follow the fellow who follows a dream.” Her feet pounded against the cold pavement, crunching against the snow as it tried to shroud their route and her breath came out in sharp, cloudy bursts. Ice kissed the top of the snow, along the walls, against benches and trees. The park paths were slick and shiny, but she stretched herself. Pushing.

The steady snowfall had begun before dawn and it added a fresh coat to the world, a hushed blanket. It clung to her eyelashes and settled on her cap. She could taste it in every breath. The wind and the storm promised to pile more snow across what little green was visible even as it cloaked the ice. Beautiful and deceptive.

The solid thumps of Steve’s and James’ feet were right behind her. When they narrowed the distance, she pushed herself to go faster. Then jerked her attention off the double thud.

“Follow, follow, follow, follow the yellow brick road.” If she focused too much on that sound, her mind slipped to being chased. Sweat pooled along her back, but she kept going pushing herself.

“If Natalia is Dorothy does that make me the Tin Man?” James’ question almost made her lose her footing.

“And I’m the Cowardly Lion,” Steve retorted.

“Scarecrow?” James asked, then they both said in tandem, “Tony.”

Natasha laughed and flipped them off as she hummed the next line.

“Poor Clint,” Steve said.

“Yeah—he’s the dog.”

Slipping, she pivoted to let her feet slide as she stopped and turned around. “Really?”

A pair of unrepentant grins met her. “You keep singing about the Yellow Brick Road,” James pointed out with a wave at himself and then Steve. “We’re definitely not munchkins.”

She snorted. “Fine…” Sticking out her tongue, she turned and started walking, warming herself back up to run and shaking her arms. “Good for making me work on my respiratory system. Harder to keep breath regulated and sing while you run. Chest hurt like a bitch for days—gotta make sure I didn’t lose any capacity.”

“But the Wizard?”

“Well,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “I’m off to see one in a couple of hours, aren’t I?”

“No,” Steve said with a teasing roll of his eyes. “The Wizard is coming to see you!”

“Fine,” she called back picking up the pace with a little burst of speed to get up to a run. Not like she could outdistance them. Still, she didn’t want to focus on the feeling of them racing up on her. It was Steve and James. It would be fine. She lasted a quarter of a mile before the slap of their feet had her heart amping faster.

Humming under her breath, she tried to focus on a song instead. “When are you gonna come down? When are you going to land?”

The cold air washed against her face.

“I should have stayed on the farm, I should have listened to my old man.” She almost laughed at that. A car horn honked in the distance.

“You know you can’t hold me forever. I didn’t sign up with you. I’m not a present for your friends to open… this boy’s too young to be singing…” She trailed out the note as her lungs began to burn then grinned as she continued, “…the blues.”

Pushing her legs harder, she fought against the complaints in her quads and calves. “So goodbye yellow brick road, where the dogs of society howl…”

Steve barked out a laugh, but she just kept up the song as she followed the loop. The guys never got that much of a workout with her, even less when she was fighting back into shape. Though neither complained. As long as she pushed, both legs and her lungs, she could focus on the running and not on the fact that in a couple of hours Doctor Strange would arrive at the Tower and they’d try to trigger an episode while she was in a damn MRI machine.

The image of Mary in the photo branded itself on her mind’s eye.

Worth it.

She ran faster.

Totally worth it.

~~~

At the Tower, Natasha wanted to head down to the gym and spend an hour on a speed bag, but they had about forty-five minutes until the doctor arrived. James blew her a kiss and promised French toast and coffee after he showered. Natasha hit the switch on their coffee maker to get their first brew going and pivoted to find Steve standing between her room and his.

They were nowhere near as sweaty as she was, still… “Wash my hair?” The invitation rolled right out of her. That first morning, James had showered with her, but neither one had joined her since and she got it. She really did. As much as she needed their thoughtfulness, she wanted the intimacy back.

“You sure?” His brows gathered together and Natasha shrugged as she backed toward her room, stripping her hoodie open.

“Sure… it’ll be fun.”

Following her, he tugged off his sweatshirt and studied her. “Nat…”

“I know. We have time. There’s no rush. One step a time. I know all the different platitudes. But right now—even if I can’t take the touching, I want to take a shower with you, I want to be close—I just want you to be there.”

“Okay.” End of debate. He followed her in toeing off his shoes and she pivoted to head into the bathroom, her tank top and leggings came off easily enough. Still in her socks and panties, she cranked the shower up. Steve stood near the door but not quite in it. Not boxing her in.

Tipping her head back, she stared at the ceiling. “I’m not going to break Steve.”

“I don’t care, you deserve to be treated with care and I’m going to do that. You had your back to me.”

When she met his gaze he filled the doorway and headed toward her. Letting her gaze trail over him, she sighed. “It really is a good thing you’re pretty.” The flex of his muscles as he moved, everything taut from his glorious Adonis belt to his thighs and pecs.

“Nice,” he murmured, shaking his head despite the fact his lips curved into a smile. He checked his appearance in the mirror and tested his beard though his gaze kept tracking to her. “You enjoying the view?”

She tugged off one sock as she tilted her head. The firm line of muscle on his back extended over his glutes was downright mouthwatering.

“You know,” she answered as she tossed her socks toward her pile of dirty clothes and hooked her thumbs into her panties. “Your ass is not your best feature.”

Not once did she shift her gaze from his reflection in the mirror. A hit of red touched his cheeks and that beautiful flush spread up his neck. “No?” he asked in a seemingly blasé tone.

“Nope,” she said. Panties on the dirty laundry stack, she stepped into the steamy shower.

“Door open or closed, Angel?”

Closed would keep the bathroom warmer.

It would also make escape…

“Close it.” She didn’t need to escape.

Taking her at her word, he pushed the door to and then he was at the far end of the shower, studying her. After soaking her hair under the spray, she smiled at him and crooked a finger.

“You know—all I want is to wrap you up and keep you safe. You know that right?”

“I do,” she assured him. “That you don’t try to lock me away or lock me down—it just makes me adore you more.”

His expression softened. “Nat…” Then with a sigh, he let go of whatever he’d been going to say and finally stepped into the shower with her. Turning her back to him, she held out her hand. The care he took closing the distance would have rocked her once upon a time, but he and James were both like that. So careful.

When he was close enough to touch, she leaned back and he dropped his hands to her hips and let them rest there and she pressed against him.

The water beat on her chest and legs and the heat was delicious after the cold. Even better was Steve held her, until he finally murmured, “You wanted me to wash your hair, ma’am?”

“Is that what you call all the dames you shower with, soldier?”

A snort. “No ma’am, there’s only one dame I report to in the shower.”

A laugh worked through her. “She must be a lucky gal.”

“Nah, I’m the lucky one.” He steadied her before stepping away and she traded with him so he could get under the water.

“I don’t know,” she told him. “From where I’m standing, I feel pretty lucky.”

His quick smile reached his blue eyes. “Good. Now… park it here Romanoff. I’m going to wash your hair, and then we’re going to move it so you can eat. Don’t think I don’t recognize a delaying tactic when I see one.”

“No, I’d never accuse you of that.” Still, she’d rather keep staring at him and maybe working her way up to playing with him even if the itch under skin grew worse and worse. She hated that feeling and it was beginning to aggravate her.

With care, Steve massaged the shampoo into her hair and even as the pins and needles radiated out, she forced herself to relax. After rinsing out the shampoo, he added the conditioner. “Do you still hate your hair?” The quiet question nudged her out of the zone she’d been trying to keep herself in to contain any negative reactions.

The stroke of his fingers along her nape sent a wave of apprehension down her spine. “I don’t…hate it so much as I hated having to do it. Which is…” The need to vocalize why it bothered her proved more difficult than she cared to admit. “I’ve always been flexible,” she said finally.

“That I noticed,” he murmured and it was just enough of a jolt to turn her around. Leaning against the cooler tile, she stared up at him.

“Captain Rogers, was that sexual innuendo?”

He planted a hand on the tile next to her. “It’s better than fondue.”

Laughter welled up and she actually put a hand on his chest to brace herself as she chuckled. His smile grew. Blowing out a breath, she skated her fingers up to his beard and scratched him gently. “I’ve always had to mold myself into a role. Cut my hair, color it, switch out for wigs, become whatever… but this time… I had to cut it because he cut off part of my hair—and I hate that part. He got to change some aspect of me.”

The bitterness on her tongue tasted like truth.

“But you chose the final style—you still can.” He tugged one damp end. “Your hair is beautiful, Nat. Short. Long. Curly. Straight. As long as I can get a fistful…”

She raised her eyebrows. He was _playing_ with her. Rising on her tiptoes, she slid her hand to his nape and it took no urging to pull him down. The first brush of his lips was tentative and gentle, the second more firm, and with the third he claimed her mouth, tongue sweeping in to do gentle battle.

Digging her fingers into his neck, she clung to him as he skated his hands down her sides and then he slid his hands under her ass, lifting her up. Locked against the wall, trapped, not moving, she flinched and Steve set her down almost immediately and then he was out of the shower and backing away.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Clenching her fingers, she banged her head against the tile wall.

“Natasha.” The snap in his voice dragged her eyes open. “It’s okay.”

That damn phrase.

“You want me to stay? Or go?” The care in his eyes stung.

“You can—I can do it.” She stepped under the spray to rinse off her hair and didn’t look up until the bathroom door closed.

Choking the scream clawing in her throat, she slammed her fist against the wall twice in rapid succession.

That pain went all the way up her arm. The blood smear washed away and she stared at the split she’d torn in two of her knuckles.

That was what pain felt like.

Wrenching the water off, she dragged a towel against her skin and rubbed it down as briskly and roughly as possible. The rasp of it could burn if she did it too hard.

_That_ was pain.

In the mirror, she stared at herself. This was not who she wanted to be.

“Natasha?” Friday’s voice came tentative and quiet.

“I’m fine,” she told her. “I got a little frustrated. But I’m fine.”

“Very well. Doctor Strange called to confirm his appointment with you in thirty minutes.”

“Is he still on the line?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to eat breakfast, then we’ll meet him in medical. Ask him to text or ping you before he opens one of those portal things.”

“I will take care of it.”

Hands braced against the counter, she glared at herself. She had to fix this. There was just—too much to keep letting this happen.

~~~

James set the tea in front of her along with a plate of French toast and fried potatoes. Her shower had definitely taken longer than his. She’d dressed in loose clothing, t-shirt and leggings. Steve was just pouring his own coffee as she slid into the chair.

“Steve…”

“Angel, it’s fine.” He turned to look at her. “Are you all right?”

“Not really.” But if he didn’t want to talk about it…

“Natalia,” James tapped the table. “Don’t. If you want him to listen, tell him that. And you…” he rounded on Steve. “What the hell did I tell you before she came out here?”

“It’s not her fault.”

“I don’t give a damn.” The snap in James’ tone had her sitting up straighter. “You don’t absolve people like that, it shuts down the conversation. If you feel bad because you think you pushed you say that.”

“He didn’t push,” Natasha said sharply. “Back off, James.”

The anger that pulsed between them was a sullen thing and James eased back a step before glancing at her.

“I did it—I pushed because that’s what I do. It didn’t work out so well and he stopped before I even realized something was wrong.”

She pressed her fingers to her temple. Her head throbbed at the moment.

“This is a mess…”

“It could be worse,” Steve said and she glanced up at the same time as James. Though she hoped her expression wasn’t that hostile. “I’d rather you yelled at me or poked at me to yell at you than shut me out. Same goes for you,” he said, switching from her to James. “We’re talking. Maybe it’s not pretty…I don’t care. Nothing about this has been easy and if I wanted easy well…”

“You wouldn’t take easy if it walked up and offered to suck your cock,” James said flatly. “Now if it hit you upside the head with a bat, you might take notice.”

Lips pursed, Steve narrowed his eyes. “You want a fight.”

“We could both use one.”

“If either of you go spar without me or while I’m stuck in that machine, you will both sorely regret it later.” As threats went, it didn’t have a lot of weight, but James actually grinned.

“I believe you—doesn’t mean we won’t do it…”

“Yes it does, we’re not leaving her to do that on her own.” Steve ground his teeth before saying. “Unless you don’t want us there.”

Cutting into her French toast, she shrugged. “Honestly? I have no idea what we’re going to trigger or tear loose—maybe some I’d want you both to hear. Maybe something I’d rather not think about.”

All at once her appetite fled. Mary. She just had to keep thinking about Mary.

Two chairs scraped as they pulled them out and then they were sitting, plates of their own and cups of coffee. Lifting her tea, she glanced across the room to where Mary’s picture waited then looked at the tree.

“We’re going to find her,” Steve said firmly.

“You don’t know that…”

“I kind of do.” Certainty etched every word and she glanced at him as he started working his way systematically through a stack of pancakes. “Nat, when have you ever failed a mission?”

“I didn’t save Tony.”

They both stopped eating and James studied her. “If they hadn’t messed with your head and dropped you in there last second?”

“That shouldn’t have mattered,” Natasha said with a shrug. “It’s still a mission failure.” She didn’t bring up the Iranian engineer. Or going to get James back in the first place. Both failures. The tension threading around them was like so much static electricity, just waiting for one of them to set it off. “Wasn’t running supposed to up our endorphins? You know exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don’t shoot their husbands.”

That earned her a bland look from Steve. “That’s a movie quote.”

James frowned. “From what?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, scratching at his beard. “But I do know it’s a movie quote.”

Biting back a smile, Natasha cut into the French toast. It tasted fine and James had made it for her, even it was like a lead weight going down. She made herself eat it anyway. It, the potatoes and she washed it all down with tea.

“It’s a movie quote, right?” Steve studied her and she raised her eyebrows.

“Is it?”

“It’s definitely a movie quote,” James stated, pointing a fork at her. “To keep it fair, is it one we’ve seen?”

“I doubt it,” she commented, willing to concede the point that far. “Though you did watch _Bring It On_ with Clint. So maybe.”

That still amused her.

“We can ask Friday,” Steve said.

“That would be cheating,” James retorted, but he slowed his eating and slipped out his phone.

“By those terms so would Googling it,” Natasha commented, biting back another grin.

“Smart intelligence gathering is not cheating,” Steve told him, almost triumphantly. “Friday?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers? Also, Boss is on his way down.”

“Is he coming for food?” James asked.

“I could eat,” Tony answered via Friday. “But I can also wait.”

“We’ve got pancakes,” Steve said. “Clint at PT?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers,” Friday responded. “As soon as Doctor Strange arrives, however, he will join you all in medical.”

“Got it.” Steve rose to head for the stove. “Okay, Friday—quote search, Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make people happy. Happy people don’t shoot their husbands. What movie is that from?”

The elevator chimed open. “Every bad self-help magazine on the planet,” Tony answered. “And _Legally Blonde_.”

Natasha snorted.

Steve looked pleased as he twisted to meet her gaze. “Good enough intelligence gathering?”

“You pass, Rogers, top marks.” But what she really wanted to ask was were they okay?

He winked, and then lifted his chin toward her food and she reclaimed her fork.

“Coffee in the pot there,” Steve pointed to the one on the right. “Pancakes in a couple. There’s still some bacon and potatoes. Not much.”

“You going to want more, Red?”

“Go ahead,” she told him, then caught James’ eye and mouthed _sorry_. He shook his head. They were all wound too tight. She’d crashed on the sofa but woke—a lot. The guys had slept some, but ended up watching movies in and around trying to get her to sleep.

At least they’d made it all the way through the fourth one. James had been intrigued. He’d finished it just before they’d elected to go running. Steve added the pancakes to Tony’s plate before adding a couple to his and the rest of the bacon. Natasha pushed away her plate, French toast gone and a third of the potatoes left. If she ate anymore she’d make herself sick.

“You three doing all right?” Tony asked as he sat, his gaze going to each of them in turn.

“Tired,” Steve said. James shrugged and when they all looked at her, she lifted her brows.

“Nope. Definitely not.” It was the truth. She was _not_ doing all right. But that was kind of self-explanatory. She glanced at the clock. Another six minutes until their appointment. Strange struck her as a prompt kind of guy. “But I’m a step closer, so I’m going to call that a win.”

“Speaking of trying to call wins…” Tony set his fork down. “Friday and I did some research last night… Dad and 1973.”

She’d been making a concerted effort to not focus on the Howard Stark of it all. Lately, whenever she had a knotted thread to pull, she triggered an episode particularly if she focused on details around Mary. Like she’d booby-trapped herself—somehow.

James shifted to give his attention to Tony. “What did you find?”

“They relocated to Manhattan in ’73, after a year in California for some projects, but Dad primarily rotated between the house in Manhattan and a place in D.C. We don’t have the D.C. property.” Tony looked at her. “But I still have the house.”

Both hands on her tea, she kept her breathing steady and studied Tony. “The mansion on 5th?”

“Yep, historical society is really fond of the place and Mom loved it, so I never sold it even though I don’t live there and it’s a little too big for one person anyway.”

Natasha gave him a dry look. “And a ninety story Tower isn’t?”

“I don’t live here alone,” he said with a smirk. “And there are some labs here for Stark Industries.”

She left that be.

“You think if Natalia found your father or made contact with him, it could be at that house.”

“Possibly,” Tony glanced at her. “Field trip later?”

“Maybe.” She looked at the clock.

One minute ‘til.

Friday chimed. “Doctor Strange has texted and said he will be sending his portal to Natasha, so you should go to where you want to meet him.”

Sending his portal to her. That was a cheery thought.

“Ask him for two minutes please, Friday,” Natasha said pushing her chair back. They were all rising and James motioned to the plates.

“Leave them.”

With a nod, she crossed the room and picked up the photo of Mary, she stared at it for a long moment then set it back carefully.

As ready as she would ever be, she turned. Steve and Tony were at the elevator but James waited just three steps away, patient.

“Fair warning,” she said as she looked at each of them. “This might not be pretty—you guys don’t have to put yourselves through it, too.”

James just held out his hand. Yeah, she didn’t think they’d back down.

~~~

She’d stuck with socks for the trip and she’d left her weapons upstairs because she was going in the pipe. The gold circle flared to life as they exited the elevator and Strange strolled through with his cloak hurrying behind him. Natasha tipped her head to the side as the cloak hustled. Strange didn’t slow down for it or even seem aware of it.

“Good morning,” Strange said, he had a file under his arm and a phone in his hand. While he was still dressed like a cosplayer on his way to a Ren faire, he had a far more professional air around him. All of his attention was on her, probably why he glanced at the cloak. With a faint, roll of his eyes, he set his file and phone down then snapped the portal closed before removing his sling ring.

She still wasn’t overly fond of the thing, but exposure therapy seemed to have neutered some of its effect on her. Some. They all answered his greeting with various ones of their own.

The cloak shifted to stay in Strange’s blind spot, and the doctor had to be consciously ignoring it though the more time she spent around it, the more normal it seemed. James still held her hand and she leaned against one of the walls, aware the MRI was in the other room. Clint arrived, a large thermos in his hand and dressed for PT. Sweating like he’d been doing it, too.

“You’re going to be running the equipment?” Strange said to Tony. At Tony’s nod, Strange flipped the file open. “We’re going to need to run this with a contrast.” The doctor turned his attention to her. “I’m aware you are less than fond of all medications…”

“It’s fine,” Natasha told him, releasing James’ hand. “I know we have to give you all the tools to look at it.”

“You seem very calm for someone who has a medical history steeped in your staunch refusal to cooperate.”

“Never really had a compelling reason before…”

Strange narrowed his eyes. “Ms. Romanoff…”

“You know Doc, we’re about to get personal, seeing as you’re planning to play with my brain. You can call me Natasha.”

“Very well, Natasha… I believe now is the difficult time. In order to trigger an episode, we need some ideas of what will do that.”

“I’m pretty sure I have one.”

Tony shot her a look.

“Before—they wanted to guide it get to me to talk while I was in it, are you planning to try that while I’m in that thing?” The MRI was abysmally loud.

“If it worked before, then it would be a reasonable to attempt again. Though my attention is going to be on the scans… I’m assuming one of you gentlemen…”

“I’ll do it, Tash,” Clint said quietly. “We were all there with Tony, but I’ll talk you through it.”

She nodded. “Friday—you can record this in case Doc needs it for his files.”

“Go ahead and call me, Stephen, Natasha,” the doc said. “If we’re being personal.”

“Understood, Natasha.”

“Do we have a way to end this if it gets to be too much?” Steve asked.

Natasha glanced at him. “Probably not. This isn’t like a program, it just does what it does.”

“You also had a seizure the last time we deliberately provoked one,” James added. Concern radiated off their every tense muscle, but they had it so locked down.

“Well if that happens and you two need to spar, go ahead—no hard feelings.” The teasing didn’t elicit much of a reaction, though Tony sighed.

“There is something else we can do... I considered it for a future attempt at this, because I want to see the primary reactions this time.” Stephen gestured to the medicine cabinet.

“Such as? And keep in mind—the dosages I require tend to be higher than most doctors are comfortable administering.”

“I’m not most doctors and there have been some very positive studies in using MDMA for PTSD patients, it allows you to step aside from your own emotional reaction to the memories and can be effective in getting to the root of triggers. This—your episodes are different. But from what you’ve said, many of them include trauma, which you are then experiencing for a second time in addition to the trauma of the recall.”

“Psychotropic. My favorite thing.”

“In a controlled environment—”

Ice slithered over her and she raised a hand and he paused. “Right now, let’s just keep it to the basics without the speculation. Controlled environments and I have a much longer and more colorful history that I do _not_ want to repeat here.”

“Accepted. If you are ready to trigger the episode, let’s get you in there and set up. Be aware, however, if we need to repeat this, we can at least provide you with some therapeutic assistance.”

Yay.

After slipping the dog tags off her neck and the bracelet off her wrist, she held them out to Steve who took both and slid them into his pocket. “You want this to stop at any point,” he told her. “Say the word. We’ll stop it.”

She really wished she hadn’t freaked in the shower earlier. She squeezed his hand. At least she didn’t have to switch into the ugly gown for this. Her clothing was loose enough.

James and Clint were right behind her. She’d spent so much damn time in the machine, she sighed at the table. The head cage would have to go on, too.

She could do this.

Seated on the table, she gave James a small smile. “I can do this.”

“I know you can. I also know why.” He held out both his hands and she took them. “You are more important to me than the memories, Natalia.” With care, he squeezed her hands then glanced at Clint. “You have her?”

“Yep, not letting her go either.”

“Remember what Steve said, you want this to stop. Say the word.” James raised his eyebrows and she nodded. Then he pressed a kiss to her forehead before striding out of the room.

Finally, Stephen stood in the doorway as Tony approached with the contrast. “You want Clint to do the shot, Red?”

“It’s fine,” she told him. “Either of you can do it.” Blowing out a breath, she laid on the table. Being prone meant being vulnerable. A camera stared at her from two different angles, three if she counted the one just outside the window. Clint was right there, staying where she could see him and then Tony was there.

“No platitudes, just—make it a quick one if you can, Red. He just needs to see the activity.”

“I’ll get right on that.”

He gave her a faint smile. “Now you’re going to be all stubborn and do something complicated, aren’t you?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy my obstinate side. It’s been giving Clint thrills for years.”

“Thrills,” Clint murmured. “That’s what I call it. Enough dramatics. Let’s get this done.”

With a nod, she kept her breathing as disciplined and slow as she could. There was a goal. Identify the areas of activity, test whether they might heal if encouraged—get enough data to make a comprehensive decision on the next step. Which may or may not include access to BARF.

Refusing to get her hopes up, she kept her expression neutral as Tony handled the injection. Rock steady hands, he barely pinched her as he got the needle in. The slow pump of the gadolinium hitting her system began the crawl through her veins.

_Blue liquid. IV strung down and around her wrist. Liquid ice pumping into her veins._

Her pulse jumped.

_“Quinuclidinyl benzilate, produces akathisia, an intense desire to move. You might know it as Soviet code substance 78.” It pumped into her arm like ice being injected into her veins._

_ “_ _It also amplifies pain receptors, so that even pinprick will feel like you're being stabbed. It also causes hallucinations and a loss of mental and physical control.” Curiosity populated his voice. “I am told it’s very potent. We have tripled the dose for you. To make sure you experience…”_

Natasha jerked her gaze to Tony and focused on him. Tony. Not The Mandarin. Then the needle was out. “You still with us?” Worry coated every word.

Not quite trusting her voice at the moment, she nodded once.

He frowned, still studying her. “Going to third what they said. Say the word. Friday shuts it off.”

“I’ll be fine, Tony. We’ve done this before,” she reminded him. “We’ve even got medical supervision this time.”

He gave her a faint smile. Then tapped the edge of the table once, and she caught his fingers.

“I’ll be fine. Breathe.”

She almost had hers back under control.

He returned the squeeze to her hand and then withdrew.

Clint glanced over at the doc and then down at her before he held up the cage. She nodded and closed her eyes, even as vulnerable as she was right here. The door closed leaving her and Clint alone.

“Friday, a minute of privacy.”

“Done, Mr. Barton.”

She glanced up at him. “Couldn’t wait to get me alone and all pumped up while I’m trapped on a table?”

“Yeah,” he said, tilting his head to stare down at her. “That’s it. You good?”

“Not even a little,” she told him, forcing a grin. “Pretty badass last I checked.”

“Ha, there was a rumor.”

“Maybe doing this so often is making it easier for me.” Absolute bullshit. But why not?

“Really?” His tone said he did not believe her.

“Nope.”

He gave her a small smile. “Okay—before we start this, what are we going to try and trigger?”

“Howard Stark. I mean if I’m going to break a memory block or try to push through one…”

His expression firmed and she almost heard the sigh he didn’t release, though his eyes told her it wasn’t unexpected.

“Okay. Do you want me to guide it or do you want to do it yourself?”

“No idea… figure I would just try to put the pieces together, usually if I focus too long on a broken part it—gets something going.”

“Kid—you’re the bravest person I know.”

“Nah.” She smiled faintly. “I’m just really stubborn.”

“That, too. If you’re ready, I’ll tell them to begin. I’m right here, Tash. I got you.”

The cage locked into place over her head and she relaxed her breathing. Just focused on keeping it even.

“Clint?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He held out his hand and she clasped it for a long moment.

Exhaling, she gave a little nod. Then he released her hand and stepped back.

“Friday, resume recording, we’re ready.”

“We’re beginning now, Natasha,” Stephen said. “Mr. Stark is initiating the scan. It will run for approximately twenty-five minutes, if you require more time, we will continue it and if you need it to stop—I believe they have all indicated you need to just say the word.”

She lifted her hand with a thumb up to acknowledge him and then the table slid into the pipe and she lost sight of Clint. Closing her eyes, she curled her fingers into her palms.

The first clank of the machine echoed in the room…

In 1971, she fled the KGB and Russia with James. They traveled to Canada, made their way to Montana. In 1972, Mary Elizabeth was born. She turned that newly recovered and now-treasured memory over in her head. In 1973, they were discovered and James led the teams away in an effort to buy her and Mary time.

She went overland to Canada, taking days to cross the rugged terrain and along the side of the road there, she met Logan. Logan who ended up giving her a ride and in those few short days became an ally she would need decades to truly appreciate.

Toronto.

He helped turn away the bounty hunters looking for her, the wide net they’d set out to try and capture her. Then got her across the lake to Rochester, New York.

She’d been looking for Howard Stark.

Why the hell would she have been looking for him? He was in Manhattan. The mansion on 5th. Working on getting the Expo built in Flushing. Somewhere Clint asked her a question. She murmured an answer, maybe.

Over and over, she replayed it… weird, had she actually been to the Expo before it was done? Tony’s Expo was loud and bright in her mind…

_So for ten days, she followed them, ate good food, and drank hot tea while roaming Helsinki and the Olympic events. Mr. Stark put in an appearance on day four, disheveled and clearly hung over. He spotted Natalia almost immediately, but she knew men like him. All he saw was a pretty face if his gaze even got that high._

_Like Carter and Sousa, he attended events when he wasn’t inebriated. There was a new girl on his arm each evening. Sometimes the three and his random plus one would go dancing. Sometimes to a quiet supper. More often than not, Stark peeled away from Carter and Sousa._

_Occasionally, such as the night she sat ostensibly reading a book at a sidewalk café across from the open-air restaurant where they dined she wondered if she should have been shadowing him rather than Carter._

_But Ivan had specifically focused on her and Sousa, so that was where she stayed._

_Movement in her periphery had her reaching for her teacup as a reason to glance up and she found the man in question approaching her with a broad smile. Training had her smiling in return, but only slightly. A pleasant, oh our gazes met, polite smile then returned her attention to her book as she sipped her tea._

_“Is this seat taken?” Stark hadn’t been deterred._

_“No,” she told him, thickening her accent out of habit. They were in Finland after all, and she could sound Finnish and spoke the language with enough familiarity to pass._

_“Wonderful,” he said with a flourish, and pulled the chair out. “Please tell me you speak English.”_

_Had she not just responded to a question in English? Men like Stark preferred to have their egos catered to, and to be admired and playful. He seemed reasonably intelligent but that did not seem to be what he looked for in his companions._

_And apparently tonight, he’d decided she would be the companion._

_Interesting._

_“Some,” she told him, giving him a slightly brighter smile, then closing her book and setting it in her lap as though shy._

_“Wonderful,” he said with a wide smile and extended his hand to her. “Howard Stark.”_

_“Natalie,” she answered, and then shook his hand._

_“Just Natalie?”_

_She smiled, and gave him a politely chiding look. He was a stranger, approaching her at a café. He should be quite satisfied she’d even spoken to his brash American self._

_“Just Natalie it is,” he agreed, holding her hand a beat longer than necessary then brushing his lips to the back of it before he released it. “You’re stunning.”_

_Oh. This was just…really? “I not understand…”_

_“Beautiful,” he threw on quickly. “Beautiful.”_

_“Howard,” Peggy Carter’s very clear, British tones carried equal parts exasperation and amusement. “Leave the poor girl to her book. All she’s done is work this week, and now we’re interrupting her quiet time.”_

Dammit. She turned the memory over and the machine just kept hammering above her. She had that one already. She needed a different one. From much later. Of all the times to find her mind not cooperating—she’d just had an episode the other day. Why Howard Stark? Why had she gone looking for him? Why would the man have even spoken to her?

Nothing.

Nothing.

Frustrated, she focused on the photo of Mary. The beautiful photo of her daughter, her laughter. One, perfectly captured moment of the past… The pain blossomed right behind her eye and she winced.

No, her mind didn’t get to keep a hold of Mary. She locked on to Mary. Logan said that photo was taken the last day before she got on the boat. The machine clanged, it was so loud and the splitting sound in her ear, it ramped higher and higher.

“Nat?” Clint sounded a million miles away.

Mary.

“Nat—can you hear me?”

~~~

_A bell clanged as the boat sliced through the water. She sat in the prow, Mary resting against her chest. Sunglasses protected her eyes as the wind stung her and the sails snapped with the wind. A bell clanged in the distance. They were close to the marina on the U.S. side of the lake. _

_All the arrangements had been made; Logan had even gotten his friend to agree to get her a car. She would vanish as soon as they were out of the marina. She couldn’t risk anyone knowing where they were. This had to be another dead end. Trusting Logan had been a gamble, but the man had seemed genuine in his desire to help them. The fact he’d slaughtered those who’d come for her also helped earn a little trust and faith._

_After they docked, the older man who captained the boat led her through the warren of the marina to the gates carrying her single suitcase. No security appeared. No border agents. No one demanded to see her papers. They would hold up, she’d taken the time to find the right forger. Still, she wanted to no records. If they took her and Mary’s names here, they would have to lose the IDs and start over._

_Startled by the lack of security, Natalie Rogers adopted a confident expression. Looking like you belonged was often the best cover. Logan had said the man wouldn’t ask questions and so far that had proven true. They hadn’t exchanged names or much in the way of pleasantries. He guided her to the far side of a lot, where a small dark sedan waited. It was a couple of years old and looked to be a little on the beaten side. Nondescript was good._

_“It’s not much,” her escort told her as he handed her the keys. “But she’ll get you where she’s going. Registration in the glove box is for a Steve Rogers, your husband.” _

_She nodded. The papers she had all said the same thing. Steve Rogers, deceased. Natalie Rogers, his wife, Mary Rogers, his daughter, It would do. _

_The car would be history in a hundred miles. _

_“Safety seat in the back,” he motioned. “Logan mentioned your daughter was young. You know how to use it?”_

_Natalie smiled, even if she didn’t, she wasn’t an idiot. She’d figure it out. “I can, thank you.”_

_“Good luck then.” He tipped his hat, then turned and walked away. _

_Well, so far, Logan’s advice had been perfect. Mary was still dozing, so she got her in the seat and fixed the belts across her to keep in place. Natalie wedged the case into the floor between the front and back seats._

_Another perk of traveling by boat, she was still armed. _

_Purse on the passenger seat, she got the car started and then checked the map. Rochester to Manhattan was roughly a six-hour drive. It was just early afternoon. The crossing had taken a little over three hours._

_Mary would need to eat and Natalie needed food. Natalie Rogers had enough cash even after she’d left a few thousand for Logan in thanks for his aid. After glancing back at her daughter then down at the map, she backed the car out of its spot and headed out._

_The newspapers indicated Howard and Maria Stark had arrived in New York in the last month. They were returning to living in the Big Apple. That was close to Brooklyn where James grew up. Tears burned in the back of her eyes and she forced them away as she kept her gaze on the road and looked for the sign for the interstate she needed. _

_No more tears. James—was gone. Her Soldat… She shoved that aside._

_Find Howard Stark. The man was wealthy and connected. James indicated he’d also been something of a friend. Or at least a possible ally. She’d have to assess and make a final decision on that front alone._

_ Less than an hour on the road and Mary woke, fussy and thoroughly displeased with being stuck in the seat. Natalie looked for an exit. Pulling into a lot for a small diner off the road where it looked like it served other road travelers; she parked away from the main building. Once free of the seat, she got Mary’s diaper changed and then let her nurse, covering with a blanket inside the locked car, her gaze tracking any movement._

_Plenty of vehicles came and went, but none came near her. Only when she’d drunk her fill did Mary fuss again, more from warmth than anything. After fixing her blouse, Natalie got rid of the blanket and then purse over her shoulder and Mary tucked to her side, she headed inside._

_A mother and daughter traveling. _

_Nothing to see._

_The table she’d picked was close to an exit and had a good line of sight on the door. The waitress played with Mary and her little one was happy with sharing some of the mushed peas and mashed potatoes she’d ordered while Natalie ate one large cheeseburger, then ordered a second to take with her._

_It was a ridiculous meal. But James had ordered one in Chicago when they’d stopped and he’d loved it. It was also heavy protein. She had to keep her strength up for Mary._

_She didn’t stay longer than thirty minutes. _

_Mary disliked the car seat intensely, but Natalie coaxed her back in. It took a little fiddling but she found a radio station and when she sang along with the radio, Mary quieted. Her sweet Malyshka was not used to the loud and dirty world. Their cabin had been an oasis, safe, tranquil, and perfect. Ideal to raise Malyshka away from the ugliness that gave birth her mother. _

_With every mile she drove, she drew closer to the city. She needed a cover to approach Howard Stark. A cover to get in and get a feel for the man, but to do that she would need to put Mary somewhere safe. She discarded every idea that meant separating from Mary._

_She couldn’t risk her. Not that way._

_The Starks had a child; perhaps she could approach the wife. Though the woman was wealthy, it was unlikely she took the child to a park._

_What if they had a nanny? Or an au pair?_

_That might work. _

_Manhattan was in sight and she still didn’t have a plan even after having ditched the car and lifted another one. The car she bought from an old woman who had asked no questions would have to go, but that was fine._

_The city had transport._

_She’d make it work._

_Two days in the city and she’d found a small place in Brooklyn. It wasn’t much, a single room at the top of a five-story walk-up, but she had roof access and it was a short jump to the buildings on either side. She had a good exit strategy. A go bag for both of them was secured, one on a neighboring roof and another at the train station._

_Mary seemed to enjoy the small space and the landlady kept dropping by with little gifts for Mary, a blanket, some toys, and clothes. Mary was a little smaller than her own grandchild. The woman liked to fuss. She was kind widow with children who didn’t spend much time with her._

_She could be a good place to leave Mary _if_ Natalie absolutely had to. She refused to think of herself as Natalia, not here. Though more than once, she’d woken in the night certain James called her only to find he wasn’t there._

_Currently, Mary toddled around with a doll the landlady had given her, dancing and Natalie kept finding herself distracted from her scouring of the paper. Twice she’d considered looking up James’ family. Three sisters. She had all of their names and rough ages. It might take some doing, but she could track them down. _

_Every time the idea occurred, she discarded it immediately not only for the stupidity of embracing sentimentality but also because their handlers had a file on James_

_They _knew_ his names. No, she had to stay as far away from any Barnes as possible for their sake and Mary’s. They were all damn lucky Karpov or Ivan or Madame B hadn’t sent one of them to eliminate his sisters. They’d survived this long, she wouldn’t endanger them now._

_It took her two weeks, but patience and persistence paid off when the society pages announced a charity ball would be hosted at the 5th Avenue home of Howard and Maria Stark, a huge affair where the Starks were expected to announce more charitable projects as well as give a sneak peek at the project that brought them back to New York._

_That was her way in._

_Big parties meant additional staff…_

_She already had the name of those who took care of the domestics._

_Edwin and Ana Jarvis._

_And she knew exactly how to approach them._

_This would work; she could get in, make contact and then have the resources to…_

_~~~_

“She stopped talking about a minute into it,” Clint said, his voice rough. “Did we at least get what we needed?”

Her head ached. More her throat did.

“Possibly.” Who was—oh, Strange. “A great deal of data was recorded and there was definite activity in the regions we’ve identified.”

“How she’s doing, Friday?” Tony.

“Pulse normalizing, respiration also normal. Blood pressure normal. All vitals in the green, Boss.”

She tried to open her eyes but the brightness had her squeezing them shut again.

“Lights to thirty percent,” James stated. They were all in here. Where was…

“Hey Angel, take it easy.” There he was. “There wasn’t a seizure this time, right?”

“No, but she did become unresponsive and, toward the end, there was a spike. Until we can work out what was happening when, we’re still a little in the dark here.”

Too many people. They were all…

Natasha sat up and the world swayed around her.

“Easy,” Clint said. “Not so fast.”

She squinted at them and then touched a hand to her nose as dampness trickled down. Then she focused on the doctor. “Did it work?”

“From what we could see you activated a blocked region,” Stephen told her, his gaze thoughtful and assessing.

They were all around the table and she shifted. Steve and Clint both eased back a step and Steve nudged Tony, but James kept a wary eye on her. She gripped the edge of the table as she kept herself upright.

“Did you remember something new?”

She nodded once and that was a mistake the world swayed. “Edwin Jarvis…” Then pain stabbed right through her eye and the room kaleidescoped. The loud tone in her ears drowned out their voices. Drowned out everything.

Then it all went dark.

~~~

“And you’re really a wizard?” The low, familiar voice wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Technically, the term is sorcerer.” Strange.

“That’s cool, too.”

Natasha peeled her eyes open and tilted her head to the side. The door was open and Peter bounced back and forth from his toes to his heels. “So you’re a doctor and a wizard—and you’re here for Natasha.”

It wasn’t really a question. “Pete, why don’t we go and work…”

“No,” Peter said. “I’m not going to go work on a project or grab something to eat or anything else. Natasha was fine and I show up and she’s having some kind of seizure so I’m staying _right_ here.”

“Pal,” James said. “She’s going to be fine.”

“It wasn’t a seizure,” Stephen commented and he entered her field of view. “Not in the manner you’re thinking.”

“She was bleeding and she passed out…”

When had Peter gotten there? Pressing a hand to her face, she shifted on the bed and the door pushed inward, letting in more dim lighting and Steve… she met his gaze and all but felt his relief as he blew out a breath. James was there a second later.

“Hey…” She managed the greeting and put her hands down to shove herself up.

“Nope.” James was across the room with a hand on her shoulder. “Not yet.”

“Natasha!” Peter was inside like a streak right behind him. “Are you okay? You have a wizard treating you. You said you were okay and now the doc is a wizard? A brain doc?”

“Peter, c’mon…” Tony chided him. “Give her a minute.”

Clint said nothing but she caught the movement and when she tilted her head she found him leaning against the wall. Steve stayed at the foot of the bed with Tony while Stephen circled the bed to study her.

“I’m not mad at her…” Peter lied and then glanced at her. “Well I am, but I’m Aunt May mad not Natasha mad. So that’s a good thing.”

“Red doesn’t get angry, Pete. Keep that in mind.”

She almost smiled.

He opened his mouth and Stephen held up a hand. “Stop.”

Disgruntled, Peter folded his arms. She blew out a breath.

“Now, Natasha,” Stephen pulled her attention. They were all around her, the number of escape routes had considerably narrowed considering how many people blocked her path to the door. “Your blood pressure dipped, heart rate accelerated and you shut down.”

“I had a panic attack?” That was humiliating.

“Not precisely…” he cut a glance to the others in the room then her. “Actually—can we have a moment?”

“Let me sit up and then yeah,” she agreed and James nodded before clamping a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“C’mon, Pal, we’ll be right outside.”

Stephen handed her the bed control and she pushed the head to a nearly sitting position. Tony gave her a long look before he and Steve were the last two out the door.

“Would you care to give us some actual privacy?” Stephen said. “Since they can probably hear?”

Natasha almost laughed, but then she raised her hand and tugged off the pulse monitor before running her fingers against her skull. The whole thing was tender as hell. “Friday?”

“Privacy mode engaged, Natasha. Boss put the bracelet back on so I will continue to monitor vitals, but no recordings.”

“Thanks, Friday.”

“Of course… and I am relieved that you are awake again. I do not care for these episodes.”

The doctor folded his arms and almost smirked.

“Me neither.” Then she focused on him again. “You misplaced your cloak.”

“It’s fine,” Stephen motioned to the bed. “May I?”

She shifted her feet and he took a seat near the foot, his expression grave.

“It’s that bad?” Because that face didn’t promise anything good.

“It’s—concerning. The incident you just experienced is typically referred to as an NES—a non-epileptic seizure. It looks like an epileptic seizure, stiffened muscles, sometimes loss of motor control, visual hallucinations, kaleidoscoping for example, and loss of consciousness. Epileptic seizures are caused by a surge of electricity in the brain.”

“Okay…but you just said this wasn’t that.”

“Correct. There was no corresponding surge when you passed out. You stiffened, your muscles contracted, you did lose some motor control, your eyes rolled back and then you collapsed. You were out for roughly… thirty-two minutes.” He glanced at the wall clock. “Now before I continued, tell me how you’re feeling—right now? Be as specific as possible.”

“Like shit.” Natasha admitted. “I have a headache—it’s not bad, but I feel bruised. Felt that way before. Exhausted. I could probably sleep for a week if I could stay asleep that long.”

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping?”

“Doc—Stephen, I spent eight days nearly dying over and over and when I wasn’t dying, I was in pain and when I wasn’t in pain I was cold, alone, and starving. To be honest—while it’s not exactly the worst thing that ever happened to me, it isn’t terrifically conducive to sleep.”

“Understood. You won’t take anything.”

“Vodka works sometimes, but I don’t drink as much as I used to. I might have to consider a relapse.”

His ironic smile barely touched his eyes. “Just before you passed out, you mentioned a name.”

“Edwin Jarvis,” she tested the sound of it on her tongue, but the world didn’t tip sideways. Some improvement.

“I gather this is part of the memory you unlocked?”

Another nod. “What does that have to do with what happened?”

“An NES—is a seizure, mimics all the effects of one, but it is not a surge of electricity in the brain. It can affect those with a heart condition and prone to fainting—you have no heart condition. If anything, you are ridiculously healthy physically.”

“With a few exceptions.”

“Those are injuries.” He tapped two of his scarred fingers against his arm as he continued to study her. “The most common causes of an NES are emotional and mental pain, including physical or sexual abuse, bullying, shock—or conditioning.”

“Conditioning?”

“Conditioning. You can condition a person to respond to key triggers, to elicit a Pavlovian response if necessary.” She knew all about conditioned triggers.

“You think me having a seizure when I tear open those blocks is akin to a dog drooling when you put food in front of it?”

“It’s one possibility. The other is that your emotional and mental trauma are so severe, you physically shut yourself down to avoid it. Based on what I know of you, I don’t have to ask about physical or sexual abuse. You have the history, it’s there.”

“Great. So it’s not just my brain it’s the rest of me.”

“This is not a bad thing,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

“You and I have very different definitions of bad.”

“Maybe,” Stephen shrugged. “But this isn’t just about medical intervention. The blocks, the scarring, the damage that’s physical and we can work on that. You did have a minor hemorrhage during the episode; your body has already begun to work on it—hence the headache. The exhaustion? More likely linked to the emotional and mental pain.”

“So if not medical intervention? I just muscle through it?” Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Or you could try something innovative,” Stephen suggested. “Cognitive behavioral therapy.”

She laughed, head back against the bed, she laughed.

Therapy.

Yeah.

She’d get right on that.

“There are not enough hours in the day or people I am willing to talk to…”

“You talked to me,” Stephen told her. “After all, I have no personal involvement.”

“Are you saying that even if we find a way around the blocks? I still won’t remember?”

“I’m saying we need to explore _all_ our options.”

_“Compartmentalizing,” Natalia whispered in her ear. “We hide it even from ourselves. It is how we keep our secrets.”_

Pressing a finger to her lips, she turned that thought over. “I had to hide her—even from myself.”

“Excuse me?” Stephen said.

“Cognitive therapy—I had to hide…”

Stephen frowned. “You’re suggesting you did this to yourself.”

“I’m saying I have some experience with conditioning the preferred response under dire circumstances.”

“You’ve been through a great deal of trauma, kidnapped, injected with high doses of dangerous drugs, tortured, barely made it out alive…”

“It’s just another week on the job,” she told him and held her hands out. They weren’t trembling. “I can handle it.” Clasping her hands together, she said, “What I need is to access those memories…I have to know.”

“No matter the personal cost?” He nodded to the door. “To you or to them?”

“Can you help me?”

With a sigh, he considered her. “Natasha… I spent more than a year of my life and a considerable fortune trying to undo the damage done to my hands…”

“…and now you can work magic,” she countered. “Some things are worth fighting for. Would you be who you are if you gave up?”

“No.”

“Neither would I. So can you help me? Or should I say, will you?”


	14. Inertia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys struggle with the conflict between holding steady and Natasha's need to keep pushing

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Inertia**

**Clint**

It was barely ten in the morning and the day had gone from bad to worse. When Natasha first opened her eyes, he’d been relieved. No sign of blood, no tremors, nothing to indicate a problem. Other than she’d stopped talking during the MRI and either she couldn’t hear him over the machine or she was too deep in whatever. Friday reported her vitals were holding and they let it play.

Clint couldn’t follow what was going on outside the room, he couldn’t see the screens or hear their discussions. All he could do was stare at Nat inside that thing as it clanged and clanked. The time was up and the tray slid out. She was so still, her expression—blank, absent.

No bloody nose, no bleeding ears and yes, she was pale but—the doctor and the others entered. Nat was still out of it as sat up and then he spotted the blood on her nose and her eyes rolled back and she’d convulsed.

If Clint lived to see a hundred, he never wanted to see that again. Bucky caught her before she flung off the table. They got her on her side while the seizure held her in its grip. It seemed to go on forever, long past the one she’d had in the penthouse.

Only after the seizure ended did they move her to one of the beds in the treatment room. Steve got her bracelet back on her and Friday started running her vitals. Strange had them set up an EKG and she was out. Definitely unconscious, not quite sleeping. So they just had to wait for her to rouse.

Then just to add a dash of pure misery to their Hell, Peter Parker had shown up in the middle of it. He’d stayed out of the way until the worst was over, but the kid got an eyeful.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me something was wrong with her?” The kid looked from one adult to the next. Amusingly, Doctor Wizard just shook his head and went back to reviewing the MRI, he’d found something—he just wasn’t sharing it.

“Pete, this is some follow-up to old issues. Red’s just getting checked out.”

Bucky snorted, his attention fixed on the room where she was lying. They’d turned all the lights down. Light sensitivity was a real thing for her after these incidences. “We didn’t tell you, Peter, because this wasn’t something you needed to know.”

Blunt. But Clint could work with that. “And because Natasha doesn’t have answers for herself,” he added. “So dial it down, kiddo. You’re here as a guest.”

Liking him was fine. Nat seemed damn fond of him. Though he’d handled her disappearance better than this—course he hadn’t looked so hot _after_ they’d seen images from the fight and the later torture.

“Peter,” Steve said. “Natasha will explain to you or not as she chooses.”

“I just want to know what’s wrong with her and why—” The kid paused when Strange’s cloak had drifted over to the doctor and flipped a page on one of medical book he had open. “What’s that?”

“That’s a magical cloak of some kind,” Tony answered, his absent tone a cover because the majority of his attention remained riveted on Nat. His glasses were on; likely tracking her vitals though Friday also had them up on the wall.

“The guy in the costume—he’s new?”

“Stephen Strange, more Gandalf the Gray than Harry Potter,” Tony added. “He’s also a board-certified neurosurgeon and specialist. Doctor Strange, this is Peter Parker.”

For his part, the doctor glanced up with a faint frown as Peter took two steps to him and held out his hand. “Peter Parker.”

“So I gathered,” Strange shook his hand briefly. “And you’re—Natasha’s son? Brother?”

Peter made a face. “Um, no. She’s my teacher—well, mentor—I’m a Junior Avenger sort of. It’s kind of complicated. Not that she wouldn’t be a great mom or sister, probably the best.”

“Good to know you have that nailed down.” Strange resumed his survey of the screen and Clint had to bite back a smile. He wasn’t the only one. Tony’s smirk eased the dark frown he wore and Steve covered his smile with a hand over his mouth. But Steve and Bucky didn’t move away from where they stood guard next to her room. Any sound in there and they’d be inside.

Hell, Clint kind of wished he were inside now.

Natasha needed to cut this crap out—stuff like this was why he’d wanted to her to ease back but after that photo? She wouldn’t. Not ever. Clint couldn’t fault her. They needed to help her or get the hell out of her way.

“And you’re really a wizard?” The kid was crossing his arms, his hands tucked into his armpits like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. Stress radiated off of him. But they weren’t doing a great job of offering him comfort.

“Technically, the more accurate term is sorcerer.” Strange answered without looking up from the screen.

“That’s cool, too.”

Bouncing from foot to foot, Peter glanced from them to the doctor. “So you’re a doctor and a wizard—and you’re here for Natasha.”

Tony told him he was a neurosurgeon and the scans on the screen were obviously a brain. The kid wasn’t stupid.

Maybe thinking the same thing, Tony straightened and said, “Pete, why don’t we go and work…”

“No,” Peter said. “I’m not going to go work on a project or grab something to eat or anything else. Natasha was fine and I show up and she’s had some kind of seizure so I’m staying _right_ here.”

“Pal,” Bucky said, his tone getting Peter to still him enough and turn him around to face Bucky. “She’s going to be fine.”

“It wasn’t a seizure,” the doctor commented as he rose and headed for the room. “Not in the manner you’re thinking.”

“She was bleeding and she passed out…” He trailed off as Steve suddenly turned to the room and opened the door wider. Bucky was a half-step behind him.

“Hey…” Never had Clint been so glad to hear her voice.

“Nope.” Bucky was across the room with a hand on her shoulder. “Not yet.” Of course, she tried to get right up.

“Natasha!” Peter was inside like a streak. “Are you okay? You have a wizard treating you. You said you were okay and now the doc is a wizard? A brain doc?”

“Peter, c’mon…” Tony chided him. “Give her a minute.”

Clint said nothing but he eased into the room and leaned against the wall. Pale, but alert. A tiny frown tightened her brows. She was still in some pain, enough she was letting it show. Tony and the doc were the last ones in the room.

“I’m not mad at her…” Peter lied and then glanced at her. “Well I am, but I’m Aunt May mad not Natasha mad. So that’s a good thing.”

“Red doesn’t get angry, Pete. Keep that in mind.”

She almost smiled. Yeah, she was damn fond of the kid.

Peter opened his mouth as if to continue, but the doctor held up a hand and said, “Stop,” in a firm voice demanding cooperation.

Disgruntled, Peter folded his arms

“Now, Natasha,” the doctor pulled her attention.

Their positioning was a problem, so Clint kept himself at the wall. Too many people in the small room and her gaze swept over them. She’d mark the exits, the least challenging path of resistance and the methods to make it happen. Steve and Tony stayed at the foot of the bed and Bucky moved, clearing an opening that Peter just slid right into.

“Your blood pressure dipped, heart rate accelerated and you shut down.”

“I had a panic attack?” She grimaced.

“Not precisely…” he cut a glance to the others in the room then her. “Actually—can I have a moment?”

So far Doctor Wizard had seemed decent enough, if a bit overbearing, but Clint wasn’t budging if she didn’t want to be left there.

“Let me sit up and then yeah,” she agreed. Bucky clamped a hand on the kid and tugged him straight out of the room.

“C’mon, Pal, we’ll be right outside.”

Clint followed, ready to run interference if necessary. Steve and Tony were the last two out, the latter appearing unhappier than the former on being cut out of the loop.

The quiet blanketing the room as the door closed popped with all the things not being said. Freed, Peter paced back and forth.

“Why aren’t you in school?” Clint asked abruptly. “You guys aren’t on break yet, are you?”

“Snow day,” Peter answered. “City’s getting something like four feet over the next 24 to 48 hours so they called it. I was like great; I could come over early and surprise Natasha. Maybe take her out to lunch or something, and then do some planning for tonight. But—this.”

The last word held so much frustration Clint had to smile.

“You get used to this,” he told him and Peter wheeled to stare at him. “You need to get used to this kid. People get hurt in this business. We get banged up and bruised.” He nodded over to Tony. “Broken collarbone.” Then tapped his own chest. “Broken leg. Gunshot.” When he got to Bucky and Steve, he shrugged, “Hardheads.”

Steve chuckled, though there was very little humor in his laughter. “Clint’s right, Peter. Nat gets hurt. Then she gets better. We fight a lot of battles…”

“But we just got her back and I thought she was healing. She’s…” He hesitated, and then glanced at the four of them.

“She’s enhanced,” Bucky finished for him. “I know she told you.”

The tension in the kid’s shoulders bled out. Yeah, he’d almost stepped into that reveal, though arguably he had stopped himself. No filter. Damn, Nat could call them. “I asked, because she was so hurt and stabbed and… I know Tony said she was tough to kill. But I don’t—if she’s so tough why did she have a seizure?”

There was a split second of silence, and then Tony said, “Pete, that’s a complicated answer and it involves Red’s privacy. What I’ll tell you is that she’s in good hands, we’ve got her back, the doctor in there is the best and she knows you care. That has to be good enough for now.”

“Can you tell me if she’s sick?”

“Wounded,” Bucky said. “Old injuries.”

“But she’s enhanced.” Peter frowned.

“So am I,” Bucky told him then tapped his left arm. “Healing doesn’t mean indestructible.”

Raking a hand through his hair, Peter nodded and his gaze darted back to the room. “What’s taking so long?”

“Good question,” Tony said and leaned back against a wall. “Real good question. Friday?”

“I’m in privacy mode, Boss. I can’t help you. Natasha’s vitals are in the green though.”

Well, Clint rubbed the back of his neck and then checked the time. He hadn’t told Laura about the last twenty-four hours, but that was going to be a doozy of a conversation.

“When do you have to go?” Steve asked.

“Was planning to head out early, see if Laura needed anything fixed and then be there when the kids got home. I don’t have to leave until two.”

“Natalia would tell you to just go, she’d rather see your wife anyway.”

Clint smiled and flipped him off. “Then she can tell me and you can shut your pie hole.”

Peter snickered and Bucky grinned. A brief moment of levity and then the atmosphere dimmed again.

She and Strange were having a long talk.

Just what the hell had the doctor found?

**Steve**

In some ways, Steve envied Peter his age and for more than his endless optimism. A lot could be forgiven at his age, including angry outbursts and rebellious demands. At the same time, this fifteen-year-old demonstrated remarkable character and loyalty. Natasha loved this kid. She may never say the words aloud, but she’d gotten attached pretty quickly and the kid to her.

He caught Bucky’s eye. A single shake of his head was his only answer on the subject. No, he was not all right. Nat dropping like that and having a seizure left both of them in the position of being utterly useless. Or at least Steve felt useless. He’d managed to brace her to keep her from falling though Bucky had been the one to catch her in the first place.

“We’re going to get food,” Bucky announced and he took Peter by the shoulders and directed him toward the elevator. He pinned Steve with a look that said stay here as clearly as if he’d bellowed it. Steve nodded. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“But…” Peter opened his argument.

“Natalia will need to eat something, too, as soon as she’s finished talking to the doctor she’ll want to eat.”

“Oh.”

Yep, Bucky had his number. He could redirect all that stubborn temper. As the elevator closed on them Steve blew out a breath. As worried as Steve was, the driving factor in Natasha’s quest was her daughter. Their daughter. Bucky’d had the memories for months. Memories. Questions. No answers. Somehow, somehow he didn’t let it get to him.

When Steve would ask him, he would simply shrug. _“I had nothing. Then I had her. They kept taking her away from me. Maybe I never see my daughter again, but I have Natalia. I’m not wasting a minute of this time if I can help it.”_

How could Steve argue with it?

All Steve wanted was Natasha. The life they could have. Every single word he’d said to her the night before was true. As long as he had her and the chance at a life with her—the life they were building with Buck. He was happy.

That photo.

Steve couldn’t erase the image from his mind. Not just their little girl. She was beautiful, beautiful and happy. It was the openness in her smile in that photo that told Steve everything he needed to know about the two of them as parents. Confirmed his every suspicion. They’d loved their daughter to distraction. They’d given up everything for her.

It had been Natasha’s face that arrested him. Natasha who’d looked—not much younger than she was right now, but still so terribly vulnerable with that captivating and open smile, the wealth of love shining in her expression though the shadows in her eyes betrayed her loss.

When Nat said she wanted Mary back, the moment Logan had captured in that single image was what she meant. Steve would give anything to be able to do that for both of them. To turn back the clock and pull them out with their daughter before the Red Room or Hydra got there.

Clint checked the time again. The man was Natasha’s best friend and strongest supporter. He didn’t want to budge from being there for her even when a part of him wanted to go to his family.

“Why don’t you check in with Laura?” Steve suggested. “You’ll feel better.”

“Calling her means telling her,” Clint said, glancing at the room where Natasha remained closeted with the doctor.

“Better to tell her now,” Tony suggested, rubbing at his shoulder with a grimace. “Give her the lay of the land before she gets here.”

“Yeah,” Clint sighed and glanced toward the closed door again.

“We’ll call you as soon as she’s done,” Steve told him.

“Use one of the offices,” Tony suggested, motioning to the rooms down the hall. “We’ve got plenty and none are in use at the moment.”

He hesitated then pulled out his phone. “Thanks, guys.”

Then there were two. When Tony rubbed his shoulder again, Steve eyed him. “Where’s your sling?”

“It’s irritating,” Tony said. “And I don’t know. Somewhere.”

“It’s under the coffee cup in your private lab, Boss.”

With a smirk, Tony pointed to the ceiling. “It’s there.”

“Well, lucky we happen to have an entire medical floor.” Steve nodded toward the treatment rooms. “Pretty sure they’re going to have slings here somewhere.”

“I’ll get it in a minute.”

The quiet stretched. Then Steve shifted his stance, maybe Buck had the right idea. Get moving, do something with his hands and keep Peter distracted. “Edwin Jarvis,” Steve said slowly. “You named the AI at Peggy’s house Edwin.”

Tony nodded. “They were friends, my Jarvis and her. The first Jarvis.”

“I though JARVIS was always an acronym.”

“It was, I just made it fit. Just A Rather Very Intelligent System.”

Tony shrugged then grimaced.

With a sigh, Steve headed for the supply room. They’d pulled bandages and other gear out of there for Nat before and after her surgery.

“Edwin Jarvis worked for my father, he was his—majordomo, butler, driver, and best friend in some ways. He also pretty much raised me when I let him.”

The room was actually organized alphabetically. It took him a minute to locate a sling and return with it. After passing Tony the sling, Steve took his place back at the wall directly across from Nat’s treatment room. “So it makes sense Natasha would have had some interaction with him.”

“Well, I would have been about three years old at the time, but yeah—if you wanted to get to my dad and you weren’t someone who worked in one of his labs or I guess at SHIELD, then Jarvis or Ana would have been the way to go.”

“Not your mother?” Asking the question was a risk. Bringing up Tony’s parents was a risk in general, but particularly his mother. This whole situation had the potential to open a lot of bad wounds that were barely closed and likely still sporting scabs.

“Well, since she didn’t say Mom’s name I’m going to guess that no, she wasn’t her best access point. Then again, I was three, I spent most of my time with Ana then, I think. Mom always had a lot of charities, but she would be home every night to tuck me in—sometimes dressed up for a party, sometimes not.” Tony’s expression grew distant. “She always made time for me. But I don’t know the dynamic then, I don’t know if she would have been as involved in Dad’s side of things and when he got involved in something, he could virtually disappear. She never did.”

Howard could be obsessive; Steve had noticed that during the war. But those traits were valuable when you needed what he could make even when they weren’t good for the person. Tony was much the same way. Part of why Natasha would nudge him to do other things, she’d always noticed those quirks in her teammates.

She noticed when Steve trained too much, when he just threw himself into his work and needed a break. Or when Tony couldn’t sleep or had been in his lab for two days, she’d cajole him out. She teased Clint into playing games with her when his moods darkened. Steve hadn’t really paid as much attention back then, but Clint had been isolated from SHIELD and struggling at home with a family no one but Natasha knew about.

Sometimes when Thor seemed lonely or lost in thought, she would ask him questions, get him to tell her stories or spar with her. Watching Nat spar with Thor had always been entertaining, their Asgardian friend truly never wanted to harm her and the strength differential, which was astronomical, never stopped Nat. Bruce would vanish into his books or lab, barely lifting his head and she’d trick him out for dinner with the group and then feed them lines to get them all talking.

In a thousand ways, she’d looked after them and continued whether looking after Steve at SHIELD or the new team. Now she was doing it for Wanda and Peter.

“I’m sorry if this is opening a lot of things up for you, Tony,” Steve said quietly.

The other man shot him a small smile. “Not really sure what it’s opening up. Weirdly, I’m just hoping Dad helped her and that somewhere I have some clue that can put another puzzle piece in place.”

“And maybe hoping that Nat didn’t cuddle three-year-old you.” The thought had occurred.

Tony snorted. “Would explain why I like redheads so much.”

It was Steve’s turn to chuckle. “Very true.”

“Disturbing,” Tony stated. “Kind of.” He frowned. “Jarvis was loyal to a fault. He and Aunt Peggy were good friends, but he and Dad—they connected on this whole other level. Even when I couldn’t figure out what the hell Dad wanted, Jarvis always knew what to say. He came to every stupid school event, graduation, and function. He and Ana both—and after my parents’ died…they were there for me then, too.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

“So—anyway, what I’m saying is if Red wanted to get face time with Dad, then Jarvis could have done that. Connecting through him would have added a layer of security to it, the only person besides Ana that he answered to was Dad.”

“I hate to ask, but is it possible he kept any kind of journal? Or something to record appointments or daily thoughts? Something?”

“Maybe, but I respected him too much to go through his private things when he passed away.” The sharpness in his tone suggested Steve back off. Heeding the advice, he went quiet.

After several long moments, Tony sighed. “The truth is, I don’t know if he did. At the time…I got blind drunk after he passed away. Ana had died a couple of years earlier, but he just kept going. Always punctual. Always on time.” Regret tinged his words. “Then one day he just wasn’t there. I knew before I checked on him—he went in his sleep. I pretty much spent the next month alternately blitzed or finding someone to get blitzed with. He’s buried next to Ana. I managed to sober up enough to go to the funeral. Then I promptly lost myself to a bottle. At some point in there, his things would have been packed up. JARVIS probably took care of it. He and Jarvis were close, but—I don’t have JARVIS anymore either.”

“I’m sorry, Tony.” In the face of his grief, the last thing Steve wanted to do was poke at that wound.

“Me, too. And not just about that… Every time we turn up a piece of this, it just seems to strengthen her argument about using BARF.”

“SPARK,” Steve said quietly, earning a laugh.

“She’s never going to call it that.”

“Probably not,” Steve agreed. “But you won’t mind. It gives you two something to pick on each other about.”

“You almost sound like you know me.” Tony had his arm in the sling, but he’d finally slid into one of the chairs and put his feet up as they waited.

“I pay attention.” To a lot of things.

Tony met his gaze, then held it. “Not going to apologize for them.” Them. His feelings.

“Didn’t ask for one.” And wouldn’t.

The silence protracted and Tony scowled. “Friday, would you be so kind as to ask them exactly how much longer they’re going to keep us in suspense?” Then before Steve could interrupt, Tony continued, “Never mind, don’t. Just—maybe Bucky had the right idea.”

Steve glanced toward the offices where Clint had gone. “Maybe. Can we make coffee down here?” They’d had some when Nat was in surgery, but Steve frankly hadn’t been paying attention.

“You know…” Tony stood. “We can. But it’s not the good stuff. Friday—get some coffee sent up here. Triple strength for Cap.”

“I’ll take care of it, Boss.”

“One perk to owning the building with employees,” Tony said. “I can get us coffee.”

“Oh, just one perk,” Steve said drily and Tony chuckled.

“Sure, why not?” Pacing with his hands in his pockets, Tony knocked aside imaginary dust on the floor. “There are other perks—color copies, people who wear too much cologne—who are only slightly more obnoxious than those with no taste whatsoever, takeout from anywhere in the city, extensive liquor cabinet—well, not so extensive anymore, but at least there are always corporate spies.”

The quirk of Tony’s eyebrow made Steve chuckle.

“Real spies, too, even if I do eventually like at least one of them.” The other man shrugged. “But hot coffee on demand? Tops the list.”

Despite his droll manner, the distraction wasn’t working. For either of them, really. All he could think about was taking the door off and making sure she was okay. But whatever was taking so long, they needed to respect it.

“Hang in there, Steve.” The quiet phrase offered a surprising amount of comfort. “She’s going to be fine.”

One way or the other—but fine was relative, he wanted her whole.

**Peter**

“Cut these.” Bucky set a sack of potatoes in front of them. “Cubed.”

Peter stared at the bag, then at him. “Cubed?”

He nodded once. “Cubed.”

“Is this supposed to be distracting me?”

“Nope,” Bucky told him as he pulled out other fresh vegetables out and began washing them.

Stripping off his hoodie, Peter bounced back and forth from his toes to his heels waiting for Bucky to finish. When the other man transferred the huge colander of fresh veggies to the island, Peter carried over the potatoes. “So why are we doing this?”

He whipped through rinsing them off, more interested in being done than anything else. All the way across to Midtown he’d been excited. He’d packed a duffle—May had already said she’d be at the hospital for the next couple of days as they braced for the blizzard conditions. While telling her Tony invited him to stay over was a little lie, it was only a little one. They’d all pretty much said he could stay whenever.

A couple of days at the Tower, hanging out with Natasha, training, running locations where the Vulture had previously been spotted—might not happen with the weather—and just being here. Maybe some lab time. The closer he got to the Tower, the more uneasy he’d become. The last time this happened, Natasha had been kidnapped. So when Friday said they were in medical and didn’t stop the elevator there, he’d gone down via the stairwell.

The locked door hadn’t kept him out.

“We’re doing it because we need to eat,” Bucky told him. “This will take some time to cook, but it will be hearty and filling and we don’t have to stand over it. Cube the potatoes.”

“I’m cubing…you want them peeled or unpeeled?” Irritation flared through him. “You know I’m not five.”

“Then stop acting like a child throwing a temper tantrum because you weren’t consulted about something that’s none of your business.” The flat tone landed with a slap. “And peeled if you don’t mind taking the time. There’s a peeler in the second drawer to the right.”

Mutiny rolled through him and his jaw locked. “I wasn’t throwing a temper tantrum.”

“No?” Bucky regarded him coolly and Peter’s chin lifted.

“No. Natasha is my _friend_. She’s been through a lot, if something is wrong with her, I want to help.”

“Do you think yelling at everyone and being argumentative is going to help her?” The whole time he looked at him, Bucky started chopping his way through the vegetables. The rapid strike of the knife not slowing.

Done with rinsing off the potatoes, he washed his hands before pulling out the peeler. Turning the question over in his head, he forced himself to think about it rather than yell.

He really wanted to yell.

Because it wasn’t fair.

Not that life ever seemed fair. But hadn’t Natasha been hurt enough?

“I don’t know,” he admitted finally as he started peeling. One good thing about his speed and his reactions, this job took way less time than it used to. As he stripped the potatoes of their jackets one at a time, some of the agitation in his blood cleared. “But all of you were there to support her and I wasn’t.”

“You were supposed to be in school,” Bucky pointed out. “You’re also fifteen.”

“So? I can’t be supportive? It didn’t stop me in Germany—where I took you down if you’ll remember. And I took on Steve. Didn’t stop me helping with The Mandarin, either. I was in that fight—I caught Natasha—twice and…” His breath came out in pants.

“You want to stomp your foot while you’re doing that, it will add to the whole, you’re not throwing a tantrum piece.” All of his vegetables were chopped and Peter still had two more potatoes to peel. He dumped all the vegetables into a pot, and then wiped it off before setting it down near Peter.

“I _want_ to matter.” The words burst out of him.

Bucky paused and eyed him. “What makes you think you don’t matter, Pauk pank?”

“No one told me anything was wrong.” Was Bucky just not listening to him? He shoved the peels into the green trash bin with the other food and organic scraps, then rinsed off the peeled potatoes before moving them to the cutting board to chop.

“It’s not that _we_ didn’t tell you,” Bucky told him as he moved to stand across from him and picked up the knife to begin sectioning the meat. “It’s because Natalia didn’t tell you.”

“How am I supposed to help her if she keeps me in the dark?” God, he just… “I just asked her to help me with the Vulture, I’d never tell her that if she was hurting or…”

Bucky stared at him, never missing a cut despite not looking at what he was doing. Peter frowned concentrating on cubing the potatoes as swiftly and neatly as possible.

“I asked her for help. I’d have been dragging her out into something she could have gotten hurt worse. Someone should have told me.” The words came out far calmer than he felt, but he’d had a dozen or more—frankly, he’d lost count—potatoes to cut while he tried to cool off.

“Put those in the pot,” Bucky said, gesturing with his knife toward it before he resumed. They were huge steaks that he cut up, dicing them into cubes of meat. “And you wouldn’t have dragged Natalia anywhere, Peter. She would have gone because you asked for her help, yes. But she would also have gone because she wanted to help more—she also read Steve and me in to what the plan was, and we’re coming.”

_We’re coming?_ “As in, we’re still doing it?” He gave the man a dubious look. “She just had a seizure.”

“She’s had them before,” Bucky said. “We don’t know what the doctor will say. You also don’t make the decisions for what she can and can’t do.”

“Does anyone?” Peter was askance. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Then you’re in the wrong business.” The statement caught him flat-footed. He dumped the potatoes into the pot then rinsed off the cutting board and knife before staring at Bucky.

“Don’t you even care what happens to her? What kind of boyfriend are you?”

Tony would make her stay out of it, right? He’d at least try?

The frost in Bucky’s eyes was colder than the storm outside. “First, don’t ever question my feelings about Natalia. I allowed you to warn me against hurting her—I would never, not willingly, harm a hair on her head. But you don’t know us anywhere near well enough to challenge my feelings.”

Pinned in place, all Peter could do was nod. “I’m sorry.”

“Accepted,” Bucky said, staring at him a beat longer and then his expression relaxed, something verging on amusement bled back into his gaze. “And forgiven. As to the second part of that—it is not up to me to allow Natalia to do anything. I can advise, I can ask, and I can follow her to do my damnedest to keep her safe. But she isn’t a possession or a tool to be wielded at discretion.”

Blowing out a breath, Peter sagged. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Bucky said waving him away from the stove. He pulled out a large skillet and started it heating with some oil before he dusted the sectioned meat with some flour. “You want more than anything to keep her safe, to be able to tell her no, don’t do that. You’ll get hurt. Her safety and her well-being are important to you because you care.”

All true. “I’m selfish, too.” He crossed his arms. “I mean I got a good life and I have friends…some really good ones. I’ve been lucky. But before Tony showed up at our place in Queens and asked me to help in Germany—no one else knew what I could do. No one else knew what I did. Aunt May? She’s the greatest. The best. No question. You’d like her. I know Natasha would.”

He really wanted to introduce them if he could figure out how without revealing his other activities. May would worry.

A lot.

May didn’t need to worry about him.

“But she doesn’t know what you do.”

“No,” Peter said. “I don’t want her to know. Natasha told me I’m going to have to tell her at some point, but—May would just worry. After Uncle Ben, I don’t want to scare her.”

“Because you’re going to throw yourself into dangerous situations even when you’re hurt,” Bucky said as he flash-fried the meat. The sizzle of it filled the air and the scent was mouthwatering. It had been a long time since his pop tarts for breakfast. “So not telling her means she doesn’t worry. Sounds like she doesn’t matter.”

Peter blinked. “What?”

“Well, isn’t that what you said earlier? You want to matter?” As he spoke, he transferred the quickly-browned meat into the pot then got more going on the stove.

“I meant about telling me something is wrong with Natasha,” he admitted. He wanted Natasha to trust him. “I want her to know I can handle it.”

“But your aunt, can’t?”

The comparison stymied him. He opened his mouth to argue and then snapped it shut again. When his stomach gurgled, Bucky nodded to the fridge. “Stuff for sandwiches in there. Bread for subs in the pantry. Make some clubs? Then we can take those down if they’re going to be longer.”

Grateful for something to do, he went to work. Six subs was a lot to build and they were all a foot long each, though he didn’t know if Tony or Clint would eat whole ones—Peter could probably eat two of them. If Aunt May knew what he could do, she’d be scared. She might tell him…

“I don’t want Aunt May to worry,” he admitted as Bucky added water and seasoning to the giant pot before setting it in the heated crock and turning it on. “I know that’s selfish, but if she knew what I was doing she’d be scared and it would be really hard on her. Especially because…”

“You’re going to do it anyway.” Bucky faced him as he wiped off his hands. “You don’t want to deal with the guilt of disappointing her.”

“No.” Peter sighed.

“Pal,” the older man said as he helped add cheese to the last layer of the subs. “If any of this were easy, they wouldn’t need us to do it. With all your responsibility, particularly the responsibility you put on yourself, you forget that you’re also still a kid. Which means the adults around you _can’t_ forget. It’s on us to make sure you grow up. To make sure you get to become the man you can be someday. That also means not worrying you about something you can’t do anything about.”

He still didn’t know what was wrong with Natasha. “You’re not going to tell me are you?”

“Nope, if Natalia decides to tell you, she will. Never doubt that you matter to her. She wants to protect you, yes. Sometimes she needs protecting. But protecting doesn’t mean control. Sometimes, it means letting the person you care about meet their own challenges even if you have to be a step behind to catch them if they fall.”

“I just want her to be okay.”

“Me, too.”

“And I’m sorry about what I said…” He knew Bucky cared. Steve and Bucky had both been pillars during Natasha’s kidnapping. Peter had leaned on them, Tony, too. They’d all been rock solid. Even though going to school that week had sucked. All he’d done was worry about Natasha and try to get through the days.

“Already forgiven.” Bucky clapped him on the shoulder. “You got it together, now?”

“I think so,” he said, exhaling.

“Good.” Bucky slanted a look toward the ceiling. “Status, Friday?”

“Natasha has asked for a few more minutes, but she is hungry and would like some tea…”

“Can do. Does she want me to bring it down or is she coming up?”

“I will let you know directly.”

Peter exhaled and met Bucky’s gaze. “That’s good, right?”

“Yep. Go ahead and eat, then wrap those other sandwiches. I’ll start the tea…”

He wrapped the sandwiches first before he carried his to the table. The nerves jangling in his system quieted.

“Bucky, what does pawk pank mean?”

Bucky chuckled. “Spider-Punk.”

**Tony**

The coffee arrived in ten minutes via a cart set in the elevator with a couple of carafes and mugs. Natasha and Strange had been talking for almost thirty-five minutes. Not for the first time in his life, it was killing Tony to not be a fly—or in this case a spider—on the wall. To know just what the hell was going on. No, it wasn’t his business.

Except it was. It was Natasha.

She needed the privacy to discuss whatever the hell it was—but it also involved them. It involved Bucky because it was his kid, too. Clint because she was his best friend. Steve because like Bucky, Cap was gone on her.

Tony? He had a stake in this, too. He wanted her safe and happy and fine. Everything else was just noise. Those three things were vital and being on this side of the door meant he had no idea what they were facing.

Fuck, when she’d said Edwin Jarvis, his heart threatened to stop. The last couple of days had been a roller coaster for him. Whatever the hell it was Strange did when they were in the conference room at the Compound, then Logan showing up not only with a picture of her kid—she was a gorgeous little girl, Tony couldn’t get over how Natasha and the little girl had been looking at each other. The force of love in that made him miss his own mother. No, Logan had also brought information on where Natasha had likely been heading.

Then they dropped the bomb she’d been looking for Howard. Why the hell did it always come back to Dad? Had she met him? Again? Had he recognized her? Had he helped her? If he’d helped her, why had she gone back? Why hadn’t Dad gotten her all the way out? A thousand questions rolled through him and the answers were locked inside Natasha’s brain or some storage box amidst hundreds of them.

His father had left a lot of crap lying around.

Staring at his coffee cup, Tony shook his head. It was times like this when Natasha’s actual age struck him. It was hard to reconcile the fact she was eighty-six years old. She had a daughter who was roughly Tony’s age. That was reality. The other reality was she looked about twenty years younger than Tony, but that was just—numbers.

Her vitals ticked away in the corner of his glasses. The green light soothed him on a level he didn’t pretend to understand. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to figure this out. The house on 5th Avenue, they could be there in thirty minutes with traffic. A lot less if he just flew her there with the suit. The apartment he kept in the city, the one he kept off the books wasn’t that far from the mansion.

At the time, he’d enjoyed the irony. A way to thumb his nose at his dad even if his dad hadn’t given a damn. Had Natasha actually gone to that house? Tony had a love/hate relationship with the mansion. He’d grown up there, he’d had tremendous memories about time spent with his mom, playing piano, singing in Italian—teaching him Italian. Teasing him and getting him to engage with her when he’d been too sullen to speak to his father.

Jarvis and Ana had always been there, too. Fixtures who kept him grounded and lifted him when his parents—particularly his father—disappointed him. Though, the truth was, Tony had been the disappointment most of the time. He’d rebelled, pushed back, and done whatever he wanted. Still, it had never been enough.

The door to her room opened and Doctor Strange exited, his cloak—which Tony hadn’t realized had been hanging out with them hurried over. A step behind him, Natasha exited the room. She looked—so damn young but her eyes were bruised and her face pale.

“Hey,” she murmured as Steve reached her. He hesitated, but Tony got that. They were all so damn careful around her right now. Arms folded, she leaned against the doorframe. “Thanks for waiting.”

“Always,” Tony answered easily enough even as he forced his attention to where Strange stood, staring at the screens. “Did you two figure anything out? Because inquiring minds want to know.”

“Well, I found out Stephen is a font of useless musical knowledge and dates.”

The doctor snorted.

“And… he wants to finish reviewing the MRI. There are physical, structural issues—damaged tissue and heavy scarring that needs to heal.” She glanced at Steve. “I told him we have access to a second opinion and he agreed to give us notes on his recommendations so we can take those with us.”

She was going to Wakanda. Rebellion swelled in Tony. Maybe they could help her. Maybe they couldn’t. But it put her far out of reach and away from anything he could control.

“The seizures?” Steve asked, his gaze going from her to the doctor.

“We discussed those,” Strange answered, deliberately vague. “Whether Natasha takes my advice or not, remains to be seen.”

The dry look she gave the doctor actually earned a faint smile. “Well, we didn’t just have that chat because I like the look of your face, Doc.”

Strange chuckled. “I didn’t think so. Do you want to go over this with them now? We seem to be missing two of your entourage, no make that three. Or did we send the kid to take a nap?”

“Peter’s not a child,” Natasha corrected. “A teen, yes. But not a child. He was worried.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Bucky’s taking care of it,” Steve told her and she unfolded her arms, to slide her hand into his.

No, Tony wasn’t remotely jealous. Envious. Maybe. Still, he dragged his attention to her face. “Bucky took Peter to make some food and to keep him busy. Clint’s making a private call.”

“I need time to compile my recommendations for the therapeutic rehabilitation of your brain tissue…” Strange paused. “I never thought I’d have the option of saying that to someone. Thank you for being a unique case, Natasha.”

“You’re welcome?”

“Precisely. In the meanwhile, hydrate. Rest. Do not try to trigger another episode. I’m aware that you will likely continue to push yourself in the absence of Mr. Stark’s device. And…” He raised a scarred hand. “Before you ask, no, I’m not recommending you go ahead and use it immediately for two reasons. I don’t know specifically what it does and you need medical supervision in the event you trigger an actual cascade event.” With that, he focused on Tony. “This, of course, would require your cooperation, Mr. Stark.”

“Oh, that.” Tony shrugged. “I’m still not sold this isn’t going to hurt her worse.” No matter how much he wanted to help her and yes, he did. Telling her no sucked. But he’d rather have her alive and pissed at him than drooling with her mind gone. Even if she could load up on the three-way-super-soldier serum, it would still be dicey.

“Agreed,” Strange said, surprising him. Steve glanced at Natasha, but his own relief was palpable. The coma had scared the shit out of all three of them. It hadn’t been ideal circumstances and Tony was more than willing to push the envelope and risk himself, but not her.

Risking Pepper had been bad enough, but she’d fortunately had no signs of brain trauma.

“Twenty-four hours,” Strange continued facing Natasha. “Twenty-four hours before you try again, though I’d prefer if you could refrain until we’ve worked out a treatment plan and you can get your second opinion.”

“So you’ve said,” Natasha told him. “Repeatedly.”

“Well, it can take the human mind hearing something five to seven times to leave an impression. As I believe you’re exceptionally strong-willed, I wanted to accommodate you accordingly.”

“So kind.”

“I try.”

Natasha snorted, then glanced at Tony, before looking up at Steve. Finally, she faced the doctor. “So that’s it for today, then?”

“I believe so. I’m going to take the results with me. I’ll review them, compare them to the previous results and work on the treatment plan. I will have it here by the weekend. You know how to reach me.”

“We’re probably going to have some lunch if you’d like to stick around,” Steve offered but Strange declined.

“I believe Natasha wishes to speak to all of you in private and the sooner I put together the treatment plan, the better.”

Natasha didn’t deny it. In short order, the doc threw open a portal and left. Amusingly enough, Tony wasn’t the only one leaning sideways to see where he went. Clint had rejoined them and when the portal snapped out of existence he said, “We’ve officially topped out our weird meter.”

“We did that when Thor and his brother showed up,” Natasha said bluntly. “At least Strange is human.”

“-ish,” Clint retorted. “He’s a surgeon. Which means he thinks he’s a god. Kind of like Loki—only classier and with way better manners.”

She snorted then pulled away from Steve’s hand gently. Crossing to the coffee cart, she glanced at the carafes.

“Leaded,” Tony told her, tapping the first carafe, then pointed to the second one. “Hyperspace fuel.”

Her laugh warmed the room up. “Thank you. Okay—Friday, does James have a comm he can put on? I don’t want to try and explain everything to Peter at the moment.”

“One moment, Natasha. I’ll text Sergeant Barnes—also, your package from Ms. Potts has arrived.”

“Yay, phone is back.”

“Your new phone is also ready for you to crack the proprietary software, I’ve had both sent to your floor.”

“Gee, thanks, Baby Girl.” Tony snorted. “We’re not supposed to support the hacking of software I created.”

Natasha patted his right arm as she lifted her coffee to sip. “It’s very nice software, Tony.”

“You just don’t want to use it,” he challenged.

She shrugged. “I tend to be a bit proprietary myself besides—make it less crackable, and maybe I’ll adapt.”

Less crackable? He glared at her. “You’re not funny.”

She smirked. “I wasn’t joking.”

“My self-driving car going to be hack proof.”

“Now that’s a challenge.”

Oh. He planned on that. “Yep, if you can crack it though—you have to help me fix it.”

She grinned. “I can do that.”

“Natasha, Sergeant Barnes has his comm in, he texted that Mr. Parker is still a bit worried and his vitals do show some agitation. No signs of a panic attack at this point, but he recommends that Mr. Parker will do better if he sees you sooner rather than later.”

“Okay,” she said, then ran her hand through her hair. “Why isn’t he in school anyway?”

“Snow day,” Tony, Steve, Clint, and Friday answered in unison.

“Oh,” she gave a little mystified smile. “Never had those in Russia.”

Clint chortled. “You’d have to shut the country down for nine months of the year.”

“True.”

Pacing away from them, she seemed to calm more and more. The self-possession he was so used to settling over her like a cloak. But it was just another mask. One she wore to face the world. It wasn’t that it was brittle or chipped, but she didn’t always feel the need to wear it with them.

“Then in summary…” she began as she turned. “Stephen believes there is a couple of treatments that can help stimulate my healing to those regions. But cracking the memory blocks isn’t just about healing those regions—it’s getting around myself.”

“Yourself?” Steve asked.

“Myself,” she confirmed. “The seizures are non-epileptic…”

Tony didn’t miss a word, his mind already turning the information over. It wasn’t just about the damage to her mind it was about how she’d compartmentalized the information even as they scrambled her neurons.

“Ultimately, I have to get past the trauma—he already suggested MDMA, but I don’t know how much of that I’d have to shoot up to even make it effective. I’m not a fan of psychotropics.”

The cold realization was that SPARK might be the only way settled deeper into his bones along with the fact she’d go to Wakanda next.

How the hell could he fix this for her? 

“And what you remembered?” Clint asked.

She glanced at Tony. “After we settle Peter?”

The fact she was asking, not telling, wasn’t lost on him. ‘Whatever you need, Red.”

Whatever.

**Bucky**

He’d pointed Peter toward the movies once he’d finished his sandwich, and then slipped the comm in on Friday’s request. Natalia’s voice was steady. Strong. Confident. Herself. Without meaning to, his gaze went to the photo of Mary on the shelf. The fact Logan had saved that photo for decades left Bucky immeasurably in his debt. Not only had the man helped protect his family, he’d found a way to preserve a piece of Natalia’s heart. A piece, Bucky hadn’t been able to do more than give her tales about.

When they finished, they were on their way up so they could eat and Natalia needed to rest. She’d still want to go out with Peter that night—depending on the weather. Bucky glanced out the windows where the snow continued to fall steadily. For once, he’d never been happier to see it. Natalia wouldn’t be buttoned down but maybe—just maybe—she would see the wisdom in putting it off.

The kid wasn’t likely to be pushing her, if anything, he’d want her to take it easy, too.

The day had been a long one and it wasn’t noon.

Montana seemed so far away, but Natalia hadn’t kept Mary in Montana. She’d brought her to New York. She’d gone looking for Howard.

He’d told her about Howard. Not a lot, but he’d mentioned him. Since his name came up the night before, Bucky had been trying to remember how much he’d told her, exactly. The one thing he kept coming back to—Howard Stark helped turn Steve into Captain America.

When the elevator opened, he tracked her arrival. Despite the faint color in her cheeks, she was still pale. There was weariness around her eyes. More shadows. Secrets hovered around her, a pale cloak trailing back decades. The Red Room, no matter how far they went, the Red Room seemed to always be there. She smiled at him. The guys were talking even as Peter bounced to his feet.

Spider-Punk was a lot calmer and Natalia disarmed him gently, even allowing him to hug her as she returned it. Every time she forced herself to make contact, it cost her a little. Bucky understood it. She refused to let the pain or the trauma to control her and yet, it was as though they all participated in extending her torture as she worked through this.

Steve made his way over to the coffee while Clint helped himself to a soda. He didn’t waste time tucking into a sandwich. Tony lingered with Natalia and Peter. His gaze more on her though he was teasing the kid.

Plans.

Everyone was making plans.

They needed to move. Inertia is what got them caught before. Maybe that fed into Natalia’s drive to force every issue. The water boiled again—for the second time—and he moved to brew her tea. He’d just poured it in the cup when she sidled up to him, her gaze searching.

He was being too quiet. It worried her. Lifting his arm, he smiled as she tucked herself under it and leaned into him. Wrapping his left around her, he held far more gently than he wanted. Steve asked her if she wanted to eat and Peter volunteered that he’d made the sandwiches. That earned more laughter and Bucky caught Tony studying him.

Natalia had gone to Howard Stark because of what Bucky had told her. His Natalia would have recognized him as an asset, a resource to be cultivated, a man with power she could manipulate to protect their daughter. If Howard did—Howard had been a good man, he would have helped most likely—then had Bucky had to kill someone who’d saved his family?

“Hey,” Natalia murmured pulling his attention from Tony. “You all right?”

“I am now,” he told her. He hadn’t lied, she was all he needed. He loved Mary; he would always love his daughter. He wanted to know where she’d gone and what happened to her. But he wouldn’t lose Natalia to do it.

Nudging her toward her tea, he let her go and then retreated a step to give her space. His gaze collided with Steve’s. But Bucky shook his head. No, he wasn’t ready to talk about this. He’d gotten Peter settled and food made. He could be there for Natalia, but he had to brace.

He had to brace himself to find out what happened and he avoided looking at Tony again. Not after he recognized the rough sympathy in the other man’s eyes. He didn’t deserve that, not from Tony.

“Hey,” Clint said as Natalia carried her tea over to the table. Peter had begun talking a mile a minute about the snow, the holidays, and hanging out for the weekend. Natalia’s smile told Bucky all he needed on that front. “You holding it together?”

“Yep,” Bucky lied, meeting his gaze. Clint wasn’t buying even if Bucky wasn’t really trying to sell. “I’d kill for a beer and a smoke though.” Maybe a talk. Clint had some distance on all of this.

Clint nodded, then shot a look over his shoulder then back at him. “Let me go pick up Laura and the kids. Then we’ll make time for that.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“You got it.” Then he turned to say his goodbyes and Steve replaced him in the kitchen. Not that Bucky had moved far. He wanted to keep an eye on Natalia.

“You’re not okay,” Steve told him quietly.

“Neither are you,” Bucky retorted.

“Point.”

They both focused on Natalia and she caught them staring. The exasperation in her eyes got them moving. “You know,” Steve said into the quiet. “We were getting Buck caught up on the Harry Potter movies. Made it all the way to the fourth one. There are what? Four more?”

Tony grunted. “The last two…”

“No spoilers,” Natalia said firmly and Tony mimed zipping his lips.

“I’ve watched those, been a while though,” Peter admitted. “I don’t mind watching them again.”

Steve glanced at him. “Harry Potter?”

“Sure, we already saw one wizard today, what’s a few more?”

“You guys have _got_ to tell me how you met a wizard!” Peter said.

“Later malen’kiy pauk. The sandwiches were good but we need…”

“Popcorn,” Bucky said, turning to get it started.

“Blanket fort,” Steve announced and Bucky had to hide a smile.

“What are we five?” Peter asked then… “What?”

Bucky glanced to find Natalia, Steve, and Tony eyeing him.

“Pete,” Tony said, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Let us instruct you in the fine art of fort making.”

Natalia chuckled. “I guess that leaves me with the hot cocoa.”

And there was great rejoicing.

Bucky met her gaze as she closed the distance between them. “I’ll take it easy,” she promised him and some of the tension fisting his heart eased. “Later—after Peter goes to bed?”

He nodded. “You’re all right? The memory? It wasn’t…”

“Not bad,” she promised. “I was missing you—but not bad. I promise.”

Okay.

He could relax and enjoy their “snow” day.

For now.


	15. Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking, touching, and trusting, recovery is hard on everyone but they're inching forward.

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Therapy**

**Natasha**

The hot cocoa, popcorn, blanket fort, and Harry Potter allowed her to relax, despite the fact she wasn’t very focused on the movie. Of all of them, Peter seemed to the most engaged though Steve and James tried. Tony didn’t quite manage it, tinkering away on his phone.

They’d moved the coffee table and spread out the couch cushions and blankets. It was warm and cozy, particularly with the tree filling one corner of the room and the lights making patterns on the ceiling.

From where she sat, she could see quite a few ornaments. Cataloguing them mentally, she made lists—taking mental snapshots. The photos on the shelves, all gifts from Steve, illustrating little moments in their lives, fun ones, were also clear proof that she’d been there. That they had been there. Evidence of a life they were building.

When the movie ended, Peter glanced at her. All the questions he hadn’t asked filled his eyes. Truthfully, she didn’t want to share those broken pieces of her past with him. He had already had to grow up too fast. Someone should try to protect what was left of his childhood.

Then again, if she coddled him too much she risked putting him in even greater danger. A soft heart was more easily bruised and crushed. He was tougher than he looked, but he was also a lot more fragile than he realized.

“Are we going to watch the next one?” Peter glanced around at them.

“If you want,” Natasha told him. “Though I think James and Steve wanted to spar.” Needed it.

The warning in James’ glance promised a real fight if she included herself.

“I might come down and watch—if you three want to give it a go.” Burn off some steam would help.

The fact Peter didn’t even try to hide his relief almost amused her.

Steve raised his brows. Did she really want them to spar when she couldn’t? “It’ll be fun,” she teased him and he shook his head.

Eventually, their restlessness and caged energy won out. James checked in his stew, which smelled fantastic and would likely be ready to eat after they got back. Tony headed to the penthouse for a minute and said he’d meet them in the gym. Steve and James changed into workout clothes, while she went with Peter to her floor so he could change into his and she could pick up her phone.

Inside the package was her dead phone—at least it wasn’t cracked or broken—the golden clutch purse all that she had left from her outfit from that night and the envelope with Tony’s gift. Turning the small purse over, she opened it and checked the sleeve inside. The gun was gone.

A bit of melancholy crept through her. It had all been so lovely and this was all she had left of it. Peter slowed as he came up the hallway. In a white t-shirt and navy sweatpants, he looked so painfully young.

“Are you really going to be all right?”

“I’m working on it,” she told him. After leaving the purse on the bar with the letter, she retrieved the extra charging cable from her room. She hadn’t really used the room since it had been fixed though she’d…

The bed was rumpled and the pillows mussed.

Someone had been sleeping in her bed. More amused than annoyed, she wandered back out to where Peter waited for her. “I feel like I should apologize,” Peter told her.

“Okay, but I don’t need one.” Surprise flickered in his eyes. With a small shrug, she wrapped the power cord around her hand. “Peter… You were worried and caught off guard. You reacted. I don’t know what was said with the others, but you didn’t do or say anything to me that I feel warrants an apology.”

Head cocked, he studied her. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Considering you just did? Sure.”

Impatience dimmed his smile for a split-second. “Are you really—healthy? Doctor Strange is a neurosurgeon. That means something is wrong with your brain or your nervous system.” Worry draped him. “And you were having some kind of seizure when I got there.”

So he’d seen far more than she gathered. Contemplating him, she debated how much to tell him. “I took a lot of damage from The Mandarin while he held me.”

True enough. Peter blanched. “He electrocuted you.”

“Yes.”

“Did it—did it hurt you? I mean, I know it hurt, but did it leave lingering damage? Electricity can do crazy things to your system and your brain. You know they use electroconvulsive therapy to treat things like depression and anxiety, severe cases. It used to be they just sent a few thousand volts through you and scrambled you up, but now they can do precision targeting it’s really amazing. And I’m talking super-fast. Sorry.”

Natasha chuckled, leaning against the arm of her sofa. “Something like that. Yes, I think I did know that about electroconvulsive therapy.” Precision targeting. “As for Doctor Strange, I have a couple of issues and he is going to help me with them. To do that I had to have an MRI today…” Brooklyn. Five-story-walkup. President Street. Cobble Hill. “We had to trigger the issue so he could see it.”

“You’re not going to tell me what the issue is?”

“No.” One block to the subway. F and G trains.

Folding his arms, Peter shot a look toward the elevator. She wasn’t surprised the guys hadn’t stopped to get them. They knew Peter wanted to talk to her. “Can I ask why not?”

“Because anything I tell you will only make you want to ask more questions.”

“That’s not really a good reason,” he said, frowning. “If I have questions—I mean, I don’t mean it’s a terrible reason. I want to help if I can. I don’t want to ask you to do things you shouldn’t be doing like it might get you hurt. But—you can trust me.”

“Peter, this isn’t about trust.”

“Then what is it about?” He sounded so plaintive.

“It’s about me. It’s about the life I’ve had to lead. It’s about being enhanced and what it means. It’s—about injuries I’ve sustained in my life. That sometimes… you have to get worse before you get better. I want to get better.”

“You’re already the best,” he said. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Me neither, it’s why I’m seeing the doctor.” She could tell him they’d been looking for Strange since the incident with the formless, but that would only make Peter blame himself and she didn’t want that. She could tell him the injuries had been inflicted through years of torture, but she didn’t want that in his mind either.

“Are you dying?” Genuine fear inhabited that question.

“No.” Physically? She’d survive. Strange found nothing long-term or debilitating in the mental blocks, even in the scarring on her brain. Amazingly enough, she’d forged new pathways for her neurons, enough to keep her functioning. If she could accept the memory loss and move on, everything would be fine.

Relief had him sagging. “Really?”

“Peter, I promise. I’m not dying. I’ve…had a really long life and that’s a lot of scars. A lot of old injuries.”

“How old are you?” His eyes rounded for a split-second. “And please don’t get mad, May says never ever ask a woman her age or try to tell her she looks good for her age or really—anything to do with age.”

“I was born in 1930.”

Peter sat in the chair abruptly.

“1930?”

Tipping her head to the side, she nodded slowly.

“But that would make you 86 years old.”

“I know.”

“You’re _86_?” The words squeaked out of him. “I always thought you were like twenty-five or twenty-six. I mean Tony is old but you’re…you’re really old.” He clapped his hand over his mouth even as his eyes rounded farther.

Laughter rolled out of her. “Yes, I am. No, I’m not offended. I call Steve a fossil.”

“Well he’s—older than you, right?”

“Hmm-hmm. 1918.”

“And Bucky?”

“1917.”

“Wait, Bucky is a year older than Steve?”

“Hmm-hmm. About 16 months older.”

“Wow—you’re dating old men.” He groaned. “I’m so sorry I don’t know why that keeps coming out of my mouth.”

Natasha laughed. “I’m an old woman. It’s fine.”

“Wait—they’re thirteen and twelve years older than you.”

“Yes, they are and trust me everything after twenty-one is just a number.”

The absolute lack of artifice in his reactions entertained her. “Well, I wouldn’t know that.”

“In six years you will.”

“Wow…just…the enhancement. You have the serum, like they do?”

“A different one, but yes. I actually received variants of it before they did… but that is another story for _another_ day.”

Straightening, Peter bit his lip and then shook his head. He opened his mouth twice, and then snapped it shut again. Maybe he had no filter, but he was struggling to put one into place.

“Go ahead, ask.”

“I…how?” He spread his hands. “How—is it the serum? Were you trapped in ice?”

Ice slithering over the floor, sheathing her, locking her in until her bones trembled from the cold.

“No. I’ve pretty much lived through all the decades. Quite a few of them in Russia, but…also around the world in later decades.”

“So you’ve really seen… everything?”

“Sometimes, I think I have. But there’s always something new.” Mary’s smile as her eyes lit up. Her musical giggle when Natasha blew raspberries against her cheek. “Something magical to be discovered. I’ve—been alone.” Sitting in that room when Clint came through the window ready to execute his kill order. She was weaponless, ready to let the SHIELD agent end it all. “I’ve been around people.” Finding Tony sitting at the bar in the dark of the common room, a bottle already open and having him slide a glass over to her. Neither of them had to drink alone. “There’s something to say when you’ve heard music legends perform when they were just aspiring singers working a club circuit. I’ve seen regimes come and regimes go.” SHIELD falling turning the life she'd tried to create into rubble. “I try to live in the present as much as I can. We have what we have when we have it.”

“I hate the idea you might have been alone for all those years.”

“Not all of them. I knew James—I’ve known James on and off for more than sixty-eight years.” Granted, they spent more than three decades apart, but they were together again. “I’ve known Clint for fifteen.” Logan for forty apparently and Remy since the 80s, so what? Thirtyish years? “Don’t feel bad for me, Peter. Living this long has given me the chance to meet you.”

“And the other Avengers.”

“Yes and the other Avengers.”

“I still… do you think you could tell me stories sometimes?”

Heavily redacted and sanitized? “I can. Can I trust you to keep this to yourself? Not very many people know how I old I am. I don’t advertise it.”

“Well, you wouldn’t—any more than I want people to know what I can do. They’d want to find out how and they’d… oh.” He frowned. “No, I won’t tell anyone. Steve and Bucky know. Tony and Clint?”

“Yes. Laura knows about the serum and she knows about my age, to a point. Some of it. But none of the others. Not really. They might suspect, but we’ve never discussed it.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

“I know you can.”

“Is it ever weird? You know—you’ve been around for all the leaps forward in technology. Does it ever feel weird at what you can do now?”

“It’s not the shock you might think it would be. Steve had to adjust from the 1940s to 2011. It was a huge change for him. Me not so much. Being there for the changes? I adapted along the way. Now, ask me could I go back? I don’t know.” What could she have done with a cell phone in 1973? Or high-speed Internet? Or faster anything?

So much.

“Before we go down, do you still want to run the route with me to the locations where I’ve seen the Vulture?”

“Yes, but if the storm continues as it has, tonight might not be the best for it.” She’d been considering it all afternoon, but they’d already had a foot and a half of snow and more continued to fall. The subways would likely shutdown this evening and it was questionable if they’d open them the following day. “Now, are you all right to go down and spar with the guys?”

“You’re really just going to watch?”

“For now, I may give you some pointers. But I need to rest tonight.” Though she was going to dance in the morning. She needed to get out of her head and her ribs had been healed enough to run. She could dance.

“Cool. Then more movies?”

“Let me guess, more hot cocoa?”

His eyes lit up and she waved him toward the elevator.

“Yes, malen’kiy pauk, I will make you more hot cocoa after dinner.”

The elevator carried them swiftly down to the gym and training room. Steve and James were already on the mats, moving at speed. Tony sprawled on a bench, a StarkPad in one hand a tall thermos in his other.

“Warm up first, Peter,” Natasha told him as she diverted to where Tony sat. There was an outlet close enough for her to plug her phone in and let it charge. Sinking to the floor she stretched her legs out and watched as Peter began to move at a light jog around the room. Steve and James struck, blocked, kicked, and rolled into and away from each other. They weren’t trying to hurt each other, but they weren’t holding back either.

“Pete okay, Red?”

“Confused,” she said. “Worried. But I think he’s fine.”

“He’s gotten pretty attached to you.”

She’d noticed. “He’s gotten pretty attached to all of us.” As they watched, Peter completed a third circuit and then bounced into the spar with James and Steve. Unfortunately, both had been ready for him and he didn’t land with quite the surprise he was going for.

They really needed an outlet for their frustration. She did. But she would wait. She’d made a deal with Stephen. He was going to do everything he could to give her a roadmap to stimulating those areas of her brain to heal and he’d even offered to listen to her talk.

What did he know about talk therapy?

What did she?

They both had points. The fact he had no vested interest in her personally made him a neutral third party and he didn’t seem to care what she could do beyond wanting to take advantage of it to get her better.

For a doctor, he was all right.

“I worry that I did the wrong thing taking him to Germany.”

“You absolutely did. It was a reckless move.”

“Well, don’t sugarcoat it, Red.”

“You weren’t thinking. You were reacting,” she told him, meeting his gaze. “Everything was crumbling and you were desperate to patch it back together. Tell me I’m wrong?”

Tony made a face. “You’re not,” he sighed. “I should have left him alone.”

“Maybe,” she said.

“Wait—are you agreeing with me—partially on bringing him in?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “You were wrong to bring him into that fight. He had no business getting caught up in that war between us. Of every person there, he was the most innocent and the one with the most to lose. Bad call.”

Tony winced.

“That said…he needs training. He needs guidance. He needs to be around people who know and accept him for who he is. He needs you—and all of your technical prowess. You challenge him and he’s good for you.”

“I think he’s good for you—he makes you softer.”

“I can still kick your ass.”

With a snort, Tony glanced back at his StarkPad. “Never doubted it. But he is good for you. You’re better for him. I was right to introduce the two of you.”

“Feeling smug, are we?” She cut her gaze away from where Steve, James, and Peter sparred, one on one on one. Though James had halted them both to point something out.

Always the teacher.

“I like being right.”

James backed off and it was Steve and Peter sparring. They had very different styles of fighting. Peter’s was all instinctive, but Steve had a combination style developed from his strict pugilism and her training. It wasn’t an uneven match though, Peter was fast.

And agile.

But he got cocky.

She and Tony both winced when Peter repeated a move that Steve caught and sent him flying. James took him aside and she could imagine what he was saying, then he had Peter stand out as he and Steve tore over the mats.

“You want to be out there,” Tony said quietly.

“Yep. It’s fun, but I told the doc I would take it easy. 24 hours. Then I could spar. He wants the…” she said, waving a hand at herself. “Serum to have time to work on that part of my brain we traumatized today.”

“Red…”

“It’s not your fault, Tony,” she said, shifting to slide into the splits and letting the burn roll through her thighs. “You have your reasons for withholding BARF.”

“SPARK,” he muttered.

“I don’t like that you are, but I respect it.” Peter had given her an idea, one she’d broach with Stephen later. “Today—today I wanted to do it. You aren’t the guy who did this to me, so stop apologizing.”

His frown deepened. “I feel like I should be able to do more.”

“Because you like fixing things. But you can’t fix everything.”

“No,” he said. “But I can try.”

“You’re going to take me to the mansion, even if you don’t like the place just to see if I recognize it.”

“Who says I don’t like it?”

“How often have you been there in the last decade?” At her raised eyebrows, he grimaced and shook his head. “Exactly. So you are helping. You found Stephen. You didn’t give up on looking for him and so far—I haven’t managed to scare him off.”

“No,” Tony said drily. “He seems real impressed by you.”

“Jealousy is not a good look on you Tony.” She rolled her hips and moved from a front split to a side split. “He’s helping. Nothing more.” The fact he’d been damn direct with her on what he saw as the potential pitfalls helped. He didn’t try to soften it or couch it in gentle terms. While he didn’t think treatment would lead to long-term brain damage, especially with her serum—he could not and would not eliminate it as a possibility.

While she hadn’t told him about…

“What about Wakanda?” Tony kept his voice low and they were both watching the spar as the three were once again trading off, now Peter sparred with James while Steve grabbed a drink of water and moved to the edge and observe.

“T’Challa told me he would arrange a call with his sister and she could go over with me what she did for James. Maybe have their physicians review my reports and discuss what could be done. He didn’t ask me any specifics but offered me the opportunity. Then I fell off the face of the Earth.”

“You were taken,” Tony reminded her unnecessarily, his tone harsh.

She shifted to meet his gaze. “Yes, I’ll train with you again. If I hadn’t told Stephen I’d wait 24 hours, I’d tell you to go get your boxing gloves right now. You’re tense.”

“Thank you for that astute observation, Red.”

Tense and spoiling for a fight. “It’s because I said Jarvis.”

This close she couldn’t miss the flicker of his eyes. Or the way his lips compressed.

“I’m sorry I brought up something painful for you.”

“Fuck,” he sighed, some of the tension deflating. “It’s not that you brought it up…it’s that they’re all gone. I can’t ask any of them. Our JARVIS knew my Jarvis and…he might have had records or something, but those are gone, too. Friday’s combing through the old data servers, searching for scraps. There are boxes of my dad’s stuff in storage and I’m going to dive into it, but it’s all…hard copies. Not as much digitized, as I would like. For a guy who was an innovator, he loved his paper.”

“It’s a way to organize your thoughts. Some people work better when they can write it down.”

“Yeah?” He eyed her. “You don’t make lots of lists.”

“Not how I was trained. Paper trails are a trail…” She snorted and looked back to see Steve and Peter were sparring again. James wasn’t watching them, instead, his gaze was on her. He flicked a look to Tony then to her.

Oh.

He’d noticed the tension.

She shook her head. It was fine.

James nodded slowly and she winked at him. Some of the tension left his shoulders and his gaze tracked back to where Peter and Steve sparred.

Brooklyn. Cobble Hill. Five-story-walkup. Two exit routes via the roof. One through the building. Go bags stored at the train station and on a neighboring roof. She’d known about his sisters and she’d avoided them. They didn’t need her to bring doom to their doors.

But she’d gone looking for Howard.

The ringing in her ears started and she jerked her mind back and focused on her breathing. Tony shifted forward. “Red?”

“It’s fine, just breathing and thinking about something else.” Lifting out of the splits, she scooted to sit sideways with her legs crisscrossed. It angled her more toward Tony, but she didn’t want to worry Steve, James, or Peter. In for four. Out for four. At the same time, she didn’t want to miss their spar.

“You want to take a look at this for a distraction?” He held out the StarkPad to show her programming language scrolling slowly.

“What is it?”

“You tell me.” Smug. Challenging.

Rolling her eyes, she accepted the tablet and studied the code. The lines blurred then came back into focus. Loops were layered nearly a dozen deep, if/then statements, checks, rechecks, and balances against an internal database with confirmation calls to an external database. Default settings in the event the external database cannot be contacted reduced the vehicle to standard manual operation with the option for voiceprint and retinal overrides that likely had to be coded to the user and could not be authorized to another user without the primary user and the dealer keys being activated.

Proof. Confirmation proof.

The database would be housed on a drive inaccessible by wireless or Bluetooth, hardline wired to a secondary—wireless drive—that only used access for confirmation of commands. So even if someone hacked the first drive, they couldn’t change anything on the hardline without tunneling to it.

She scrolled the code up and then re-read it from the beginning, following the twists and the turns. When Tony handed her a cup with water, she drank but didn’t look away as she looked for the hole. Ninety minutes later, she looked up eyes a little unfocused to find Steve, James and Peter calling it—they were all sweating, a little bruised and wearing far more relaxed expressions than when they started.

“Well?” Tony asked.

“Override the admin access with the emergency code. Cedes control. Once you’re in, you order the engine open, plug into the drive and hack it manually.” She handed him the StarkPad back. “But that’s some seriously sexy coding there. It’ll take people a while to work out it’s a hands-on hack.”

Tony’s expression amused her, torn between outrage and pleased. Hard to be smug when she tweaked him. Peter bounded over to her. “What did you think?”

“I think you need to pay more attention to what you’re doing and less showing off. Just because something works the first time, doesn’t mean it will the second. In fact, if you’re fighting any decent opponent, it probably won’t.”

Peter made a face. “That’s what Bucky said.”

“Then listen to James.”

He groaned.

“Go shower, Pal, then come up for dinner. Tony? You eating with us?”

“I was planning on it before Red totally destroyed my ego.” Tony stared at his StarkPad.

Natasha’s phone had a charge and about a hundred and fifty messages at least from what she could see on the screen. Her email. She hadn’t even pulled out her laptop. And she wasn’t doing that tonight.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d get on that.

As well as go to the Compound.

Meet with Stephen.

Maybe do some Christmas shopping.

“So, you’re not eating with us?” Steve asked before tipping back a bottle of water and draining it.

With a scowl, Tony eyed her. “Sadist. ”

“No, I’m saving that for when we train,” Natasha retorted.

Tony groaned. “Cap, your girlfriend is being mean to me.”

James laughed. “She can be meaner.”

“Yes,” Steve added. “She can.”

“I don’t know,” Peter said. “But I’m not going to test it.”

“Well,” Tony replied drily. “At least we know the kid can learn.”

Natasha rolled her eyes then glanced at her phone. “Food, boys. Showers, then food.”

“Then Harry Potter,” Peter said. “I forgot how much fun the movies are.”

“One more,” James told him. “Then everyone needs sleep.”

Translation, they needed to talk.

They could do all of that and then she had to figure out how to hack her memories.

If she put up the firewalls then arguably, she could take them down.

~~~

It was late by the time they shuffled a sleepy Peter off to bed. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa, his head on Natasha’s lap as she carded her fingers through his hair. After Steve got him to his feet, Natasha escaped to shower. The whole back of her shirt had soaked through with sweat. Thankfully, neither James nor Tony commented. When she returned with damp hair and sporting Tony’s AC/DC shirt along with sleep shorts, she took no small amount of pleasure in Tony’s stare.

Steve was back, they'd disassembled the blanket fort, and James poured her tea. All three men put on a great show of being at ease and relaxed. The truth of the matter was, none of them were. As soon as she had her full mug of tea—with a nip of something warmer in it—James had added some vodka. When she caught his gaze and flicked a look at Tony, he shook his head once.

Tony hadn’t seen.

Still, guilt stabbed at her that she was drinking it in front of him. More guilt because when she sipped the tea, she wanted more. Then she spotted the large teapot James carried out from the kitchen and had to bite her lip. He knew it wouldn’t be easy and that vodka would give her some faux comfort, but comfort nonetheless. The last thing she would do was openly drink in front of Tony if she could help it.

Maybe Tony guessed. Maybe he didn’t. If he was willing to pretend, so was she.

“Boss, Mr. Barton is in your office at the Compound and secured to dial in.”

Tony glanced at her. “We figured you’d want Clint in on the conversation and wouldn’t want to pull him away from his family.”

They were right. “Thank you.”

A holo screen opened, then projected, placing Clint opposite the sofa. She’d curled up in the corner of their sofa, while Tony took the loveseat and Steve sat in his armchair. James finally came and sat near her, but still leaving enough space she wasn’t crowded.

Her touch quota for the day had filled beyond anything she was willing to push.

“We don’t have to do this tonight, Angel,” Steve told her.

“Cap’s right, Red. You want to rest, rest. I can suffer in silent ignorance for a few more hours.”

Clint rolled his eyes but Natasha snickered and took another swallow of tea, before she said, “It’s fine. Besides, Tony—you would go into shock if you had to suffer in silence.”

“True. I suffer better when I’m loud about it.”

James snorted. But they didn’t add any more comments, giving her the floor.

“Stephen believes the physical issues with the brain can probably be corrected by creating smaller bursts to force my serum to kick in.” More or less. Steve’s frown, Clint’s narrowed eyes, and Tony’s troubled expression were their only responses. James wore a neutral mask, guarding his thoughts, but he didn’t care for the idea. “Specifically targeted bursts which is why he wants to work out his plan and before anyone asks, yes, I’ll be talking to the Wakandan physicians and Shuri about all of it.”

Steve’s exhale confirmed he was on board with the last part at least. Tony’s expression didn’t shift. He really didn’t want her going to Wakanda. Maybe they could work it out that he could go, maybe if he saw it up close it would ease his concerns.

“The physical malformations are not the only issue... the seizures, they’re non-epileptic.”

“That’s what he said earlier,” Steve leaned forward, hands clasped. “What does that mean though?”

“It means the seizures aren’t because of electrical activity or surges in my brain. Which is—I suppose good and bad news,” she said then drained the tea. James already had the pot in hand and refilled her cup, his eyes full with questions he wasn’t voicing. “Good news, it’s not an injury. Bad news—it’s probably just me.”

James frowned, but it was Clint who said, “You?”

Exhaling, she took a mental step back. Compartmentalizing the discomfort at having to cop to a weakness. “According to Stephen,” she began, keeping it clinical because the doctor had done a fantastic job of bleeding the emotions out. It kept her on stable ground. “Non-Epileptic Seizures are physiological responses to psychological triggers—the most common causes of an NES are emotional and mental pain, including physical or sexual abuse, bullying, shock—or conditioning.”

Tony grimaced then pinched the bridge of his nose. Clint leaned back in his chair, his exhale audible even across the line. Steve couldn’t cover his pained expression, but James shifted, sitting sideways on the sofa to face her.

“You conditioned yourself to forget about her. You said in that one—memory—you called her the child. You divorced yourself from Mary so you could walk away.” It wasn’t an accusation, but it felt like one.

“Maybe, it seems the most likely. Compartmentalizing, We hide it even from ourselves. It is how we keep our secrets.” She licked her lips before taking another sip of the tea. The heat of the tea combined with the vodka helped. Even if she’d rather be doing straight pulls from the bottle.

“So you seize because you’re violating your own conditioning?” Clint’s expression darkened. “Or is it just that the whole damn thing was so emotionally compromising, you can’t cope with it?”

“Maybe both.” In this case, she had nothing to lose.

“And Mr. Wizard’s suggestion for solving that?” Tony stared at her and she could see it in his eyes. BARF was the solution. It was exactly why he’d created it. The tool helped them face their memories by letting the mind step back from the emotions and to process the memories by hijacking the hippocampus.

“Cognitive-behavioral therapy.”

Steve leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling and Tony snorted. But Clint’s whole expression shifted to pure neutral even as his eyes narrowed.

“Can’t say I’m a fan of_ talking_ it out. I pretty much hated it when I had to go through that at SHIELD.”

“Fuck,” Clint punched the word out in an explosive breath. “Tasha—about Richardson.”

The psychologist? “No.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

A small, humorless laugh escaped her. “People wonder why I have trust issues.”

Clint could have said any number of things, but all he said was, “I’ll find him. And I’m gonna put an arrow through every joint he has until he tells me exactly what he did.”

What he did? She could guess. Worked on her triggers, smoothed the way for them to use her. She’d always loathed those sessions, attending only because her continued existence at SHIELD rested in those mandatory meetings. Meetings she’d been forced to endure, three times a week for a year. One hundred and fifty-six sessions. A lot could happen in that many sessions.

“You know—unless he flipped some switch in me that made me turn on all of you, it doesn’t really matter anymore. I can’t let him matter.” If they had that kind of control, Pierce or someone would have used it when she was standing in front of him, helping to dismantle his plans for world dominion. “I take it you got this from Nick?”

A single nod.

Then Maria would know. She had messages on her phone from Maria. She would deal with that later.

“So what’s the final verdict, then?”

“Stephen will develop what he hopes are the first steps in therapeutic rehabilitation of my brain. Though we may have to adjust as we go and we may not realize there’s a problem until we encounter it.” Russian roulette. She was extremely proficient at the game. “Once he has a game plan, he’ll give me the notes and I can compare it to what the doctors in Wakanda might suggest. Though I didn’t bring up Wakanda specifically, I did tell him I wanted to get a second opinion.”

“Still not a fan of that last idea, Red.”

“You don’t have to be, Tony. I just need a course of action that works and hopefully doesn’t take me out of the rotation for too long.” It was hard enough to reconcile being selfish in wanting those memories back with abandoning the team she’d fought to get back together.

“Standing down doesn’t mean you’re out,” Steve told her. “You’re invaluable for training, strategy, and syncing ops. Letting you heal so we have you for another hundred years is worth having you ease back for a few months.”

“Not to be crass…”

“Steve and James already discussed it with me, Tony. I’m aware of the option. It doesn’t have a timetable or a guarantee and it won’t deal with the cognitive blocks.”

Right now, she wasn’t going to discuss their sex lives any further. Apparently Tony got the picture because he raised his hands and leaned back in his seat.

“Okay, well since we’re being all cryptic and vague,” Clint commented. “Let’s circle back to how you’re going to deal with the cognitive blocks.”

“I have a plan.”

“You going to share?” The look on her best friend’s face said she damn well better, but she shook her head.

“You’re all compromised. I have a plan. If I need help with it, I’ll ask.”

Steve frowned and Tony shifted, eyebrows up.

Not willing to entertain arguments on this front for the moment, she finished the tea and reached for the pot to refill it. “Before we call it a night…” Because she needed to speak to James and Steve privately, she said, “During the MRI, I was able to jar a memory loose. So maybe all I really need to do is focus on it and you know, bite the bullet as it were.” Stephen hadn’t been a fan of that idea. While the NES was not caused by electrical surges in the brain, the stress could affect her in other ways. She did so enjoy it when men explained to her she wasn’t indestructible.

“You said Edwin Jarvis,” Tony commented. “Just before you passed out.” His guard was up as they ventured into painful territory for him. Territory she more than understood.

A single nod. Careful not to gulp the still quite warm but no longer piping hot tea, Natasha took a long swallow before facing it head on. “Logan got me from Canada back into the States via a friend who sailed Mary and I across the lake.” Even saying the words aloud, she could feel the stiff breeze on her face, taste the damp air, and the weight of Mary in her lap and against her chest. “He provided me with a car and I drove from Rochester to the city. I ditched the car an hour away from Rochester and bought another one from a widow—paid cash. Ditched the car once I made it to the city and relied on public transportation.”

She didn’t look at any of them as she recited the memory. It might as well have been a mission debrief. It was the only way to detail it without letting emotion swallow her whole. Because in addition to those details, she had fragments of Mary’s temper to go with her cheerfulness. How she was not a messy eater—at all. How she could play with a pool of light on the floor and laughed when she made shadows. How when Natasha sang her to sleep at night, she would tuck her head against her breast so trusting.

Her breasts ached with the idea that once upon a time she’d even nursed her and had still been nursing her even though Mary ate more and more. A part of her wanted to share as much her own strength with Mary as possible. That and on the hike across and even for portions of the drive, she had no formula or bottles or softer foods Mary could eat. Nursing kept her belly full.

“Natalia…” James’ voice pulled her from the reverie and she sighed. The ability to segregate memory and emotion never used to be so difficult.

“We went to Brooklyn, rented a small two-room place on the fifth floor of a walk-up in Cobble Hill. Good exits. The roofs on either side were safe jumps. Then I settled us in and began to research.”

Now, she looked at Tony. “I had to find a way to get to Howard so, I tracked every story in I could in the papers. I cased the mansion area and even some of the local parks—looking for your nanny or a possible au pair. The challenging part was working out who would take care of Mary while I worked. I was unwilling to leave her.” For a moment, she turned, meeting James’ gaze. “I tracked where your sisters were living—chose Cobble Hill because it was away from them. I wouldn’t bring our problems to their doors.”

James closed his eyes and bowed his head.

She hated herself a little.

Finishing the last two swallows of the tea, she glanced at Tony and said, “When they announced a huge charity function your mother would be hosting—I saw my in. All I needed was to get on the domestic staff. Large events meant a larger staff—Edwin and Ana Jarvis were my in. Then I woke up.”

Now they knew what she did—highlights of it anyway.

The quiet in the wake of her confession lay surrounded them. Tony pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “When you were talking to Strange, Steve asked me if Jarvis had any journals or notes that may have dealt with the time when you were there. Most of his things were stored away—he had no extended family. He and Ana never had kids. Friday’s having the boxes shipped here. I’m also going to hit the floors where Dad’s stuff is stored and see if I can find a system that will bring to that same time period. Maybe—maybe we can turn up what you need to know without you having to risk anything more than you have.”

“Thank you, Tony,” she murmured. “I’m sorry you have to open up—any old wounds.”

“It’s kind of like a juice cleanse,” he retorted with a smirk. “Sounds refreshing, sucks on the far side, but after? It’s worth it.”

She wasn’t alone when she grimaced. “I suppose that’s better than the chlorophyll and wheatgrass.”

“Ha, shows what you know. I managed to make that stuff downright tasty.” He made a face and she shook her head. There had been nothing remotely appealing about those green drinks.

Nothing.

“Tasha…” Clint leaned forward. “What are _you_ going to do?”

“Rest—for the next twelve or so hours, per the doctor’s request.” At his skeptical look, she shrugged. “I can be cooperative if the mission demands it.”

At least his snort wasn’t derisive. “And at the end of twelve hours…”

“I’ll face that when I get there.” She was officially done discussing this. “How are the kids?”

Changing the subject wouldn’t work if he didn’t cooperate, but he raised his hands. “They’re fine—overstimulated and tired, ready to see their Aunt Nat, but I told them Aunt Nat wasn’t feeling well so we were going to let her come see them when she was feeling better.”

Natasha didn’t sag, but relief swarmed her. She didn’t _have_ to go to the Compound even if she wanted to see them. “And they bought that?”

“Yes. They didn’t like it, but they bought it. Laura, however, will be showing up there if you don’t come see her so we’ll see how we can work this out for you.”

Laura. There was another situation she had to deal with. Something must have reflected in her manner because Clint stared at her. But she shook her head. Signing _later_. He nodded.

“On that note, I’m signing off so you guys can get some sleep and I should mention that all the knuckleheads around you better keep me in the loop if something comes up. Are we clear?”

“I’m sorry, Barton? What was that? You’re breaking up.” Tony hit something on his phone and the holo faded but not before Clint flipped him off.

Sinking back against the sofa, Natasha looked at the tree. The night they’d gone to get it had been so much fun and after they set it up and strung the lights, they’d torn each other’s clothes off and…

Discomfort radiated over the surface of her skin, even if the rest of her wanted to cling to that memory. They’d been focused on making so many.

“I think I’m going to go get started,” Tony said…

“It’s late,” she reminded him. “Don’t stay up all night searching. Everyone keeps reminding me it’s been decades. We don’t need to rush.” No matter how violently she disagreed with the sentiment.

“Well, it’s that or go fight with your hacking solution for my unhackable code.” The face he made pulled a reluctant smile out of her. “I’ve got a prototype coming—when it gets here, I want to see how long it takes you to pull that trick.”

“Three minutes,” she told him. “After I figure out the best emergency code to send, ninety seconds or less.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Tony retorted. “Remember what I said, you figure out how to break it, you have to figure out how to help me fix it.”

“I know.” Then because she needed other things to concentrate on. “Tomorrow morning? Training?”

“If you’re up for it,” Tony said, rising. “And if not…I’ll still stretch like a good boy.”

Steve’s expression tightened, but he didn’t comment.

“Night Red. Red’s boys.”

James snorted. Steve waved and Tony glanced at her once more before he disappeared into the elevator. At least he hadn’t asked to hug her or kiss her on the head. She wasn’t really sure she could take it right now. That left her with the bad taste of guilt in her mouth.

“You want to talk about it?” James asked after the elevator closed.

“Did you bring the whole bottle up?”

“Yes, I did. And Friday had more delivered for you today.”

“Friday…”

“Yes, Natasha?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I thought you might need it.”

Did she ever.

Steve rose as James did. Steve cleared away the teapot and mug. When he came back he had the big, fuzzy blanket and draped it over her lap. Then James brought out the glasses a pair of bottles.

“Angel—what didn’t you want to tell Tony or Clint?”

“You’re getting scary good at catching those, Rogers. Better watch out, I’ll be out of a job.”

“He’s pretty good where you’re concerned, Doll.” James poured a glass for each of them, but doubled the amount in hers. He knew her well.

“The idea of talk therapy makes me want to throw up,” she admitted, then took a deep drink of the vodka.

“Not a big fan myself,” Steve admitted. “Sam’s tried to get me to go to group a few times, but…wasn’t raised to discuss my problems in front of strangers.”

James tossed back his vodka. “No, you keep what belongs behind these doors inside, James Buchanan, I will not have you airing our dirty laundry in front of the neighbors.”

“Pretty much,” Steve toasted her with his vodka.

“Not all that interested in being a puzzle to be solved anyway,” Natasha continued, “That said—Stephen has no personal connection or investment.”

“You’re going to talk to him?” Steve shot her a questioning look. “You barely know him.”

“Maybe it’s better that way. I don’t know—I just know I need to figure this out.” Finally, she looked at James. “I wanted to see your sisters, but I didn’t trust being near them. I thought—if I could go to them, they would be an obvious place to hide Mary. She would be with family, but first, how would I ever explain it to them and more importantly, I couldn’t bring those hunting me down on them. They were alive, they had families, lives.”

“I know, Doll. I’m just glad you’re getting more of Mary back.”

She was and she wasn’t.

“Even if it hurts more and that’s the part I wish I could ease.”

Not much to be done about it. “I have a feeling, I’m going to end up hurting more people before this is over.”

“You’re worried about Tony,” Steve said slowly. “Because of…”

“Because you went to Howard and I killed Howard and Maria,” James finished.

“Buck…”

“It’s the truth, Steve. Tony’s family helped mine…”

“Maybe,” Steve tacked one. “Maybe helped. We don’t have all the details.”

“So maybe they helped mine, but I took his away.” The guilt discoloring his words would be there for the rest of their lives. They couldn’t undo their pasts, no matter how much regret they harbored.

Elbows on his knees and drink glass dangling in his fingers, Steve looked down. He couldn’t argue the facts and Natasha had nothing to offer in dispute or support. It wasn’t James, it was the Soldier, but they both—they both had blood on their hands.

There really wasn’t anything they could say.

“Are we going to the Compound tomorrow?”

“You should go,” Natasha told him. “So should I. I just don’t know…” If she flinched when Lila tried to hug her.

“Clint bought you some time, you don’t have to rush,” James told her.

“I know. Doesn’t feel like that.” She really didn’t want to keep focusing on it. “I hate this.”

Hated wanting them and barely being able to stand touching them. Hated all the questions and no answers. Hated that she was apparently the reason she couldn’t remember as much as the memories they stripped from her.

“Nat…” They both shifted, their instinct to reach for her warring with the fact she didn’t want to be touched. Maybe…

“No,” James said firmly and she cut a look to him even as she reached for the bottle to refill her glass. “Leaving will not make this better for any of us. If you go—I’ll follow.” Firm. Unflinching. Serious. “I can take anything, Natalia, but not you leaving.”

“I may have to go anyway if I go to Wakanda.” Not disputing the fact she considered it. She’d debated asking Wanda to help her, just once, but dismissed it immediately. For Wanda to help unlock anything would be to ask her to tear in Natasha’s mind, the thought alone made her want to vomit. But what she couldn’t stomach was Wanda living through it with her. She’d tasted the Red Room when she’d torn open those old memories the first time they met. Memories had then bled through for months after like a freshly lanced infection.

No, she wouldn’t put Wanda through that.

“Natalia, if you go to Wakanda,” James told her. “I’m going with you.”

“Hell, Tony and Clint will go with us and if Peter finds out, he’ll be on the bird and there’s not a member of your family who wouldn’t go to support you,” Steve said.

“That will be problematic if we’re called to assemble and there’s still the Committee to deal with.” In all of this, she hadn’t forgotten her own status still remained somewhat precarious even if no one else was concerned.

“We’ll figure it out.” James lifted the bottle and filled her glass. “We’ll figure all of it out.”

“You ever wish we didn’t have to? I’m starting to think things were easier when I was still a fugitive.”

“It wasn’t easier. It wasn’t easier when we were still at SHIELD or just training the new team or when we were fighting off Chitauri,” Steve pointed out.

James said nothing and she reached over to put a hand on his arm, ignoring the irritation scraping along the inside of her skin. “We’ve spent so much time focusing on me… how are you doing?”

He flashed her a smile. “I’m fine, Doll.”

“Liar.” It wasn’t an accusation so much as a gentle chide. “Everything about this grates on you. You’re hypersensitive to my every movement.”

“To be fair, lyubov moya, I would be without the question of your memories. We just got you back. I don’t like having you away from me even if I am not allowed to smother you.” The frankness in that statement riveted her. “I don’t like that so many others need you or that you will wreck yourself to accommodate them whether it’s working on Tony’s projects or letting Peter fall asleep with his head on your lap. You physically hurt yourself…” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m not going to yell at you.”

“I’m not breaking because you’re telling me how _you_ feel,” she admitted. “Maybe we need to do that more. I let you all leash me until I couldn’t take it anymore. That’s as much on me as it is on all of you.” She could own that. “Talk to me—let me help if I can.”

“The way you’re letting us help?” James asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m trying,” she answered, gagging her inner retort. “I’m not good at this. I never pretended to be good at this. I do—better in short term engagements and I’ve never…”

“Never what, Angel?” Steve prompted before he tossed back his vodka with a grimace. They really needed to give him something else.

“I’ve never been good at people depending on me,” she murmured. “I’ve always come and gone as needed. A few weeks in, then weeks away, always under a cover.”

“That’s bullshit,” James argued. “You are one of the most dependable people I’ve ever known. Even when you didn’t remember me, I could count on you. You keep people at arm’s length because it protects _you_ not them.”

“It protects you if it doesn’t let my issues spill over onto you.” She groaned. “Now we’re back to me, no—I’m worried about both of you. I’m worried about Tony and Clint.”

“Fine…” Steve held up a hand when James looked ready to argue. “You want us to answer the question of how we’re feeling?”

She nodded once.

“Helpless,” Steve told her. “Useless.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Enraged. Frustrated. Not necessarily in that order. When The Mandarin took you—all I could do was keep Tony on track. I knew he could figure out the puzzle, I knew he could work out where they’d taken you. But to do that, I had to keep him stable. I was helpless until we had a target. I felt pretty damn useless when The Mandarin wanted me to break your back.”

James snapped his head up and Natasha shifted. He hadn’t said.

“It was all I could hear,” Steve continued, his voice deadly quiet and rigid as he tapped the side of his head. “Break your back. Break you so you couldn’t run. Break you and give you back. I fought it, Angel. I fought it and I let you go, I had to let you go or I would have done it…then Wanda knocked him out of there, but that—slime was still there, coating everything. The idea that I _could_ do that to you and couldn’t stop myself—I was useless to you, to the team. To anyone.”

Her heart cracked for him.

“Stevie…”

“Not done, Bucky. Our girl wants to know how I feel, I’m telling her.” It was his turn to retrieve the vodka bottle and he emptied the last of it into his glass. “Enraged because I pissed you off and you walked away and then disappeared. I didn’t know whether to throttle you or kiss you when we finally did and we can’t touch you. We can’t touch you because of something that son of a bitch did and it’s not your fault, it’s not our fault, but you’re still suffering and we can’t even comfort you without hurting you.”

Her mouth went dry.

Lifting his glass, he saluted her with it. “Frustrated because I feel like once again, I have to stand here and let everyone else do the work because I’m helpless to fix this for you. It kills me how much you’re willing to suffer, how much you’re going to suffer, to find your daughter. I’m worried about what you’ll find and at the same time, I’m not going to tell you to stop. I get why Clint wants you, too. I get why he’s scared. Has it occurred to me that you could rip open all those blocks and not be my Nat anymore? Yeah. It has.”

James let out a breath and a very quiet, “Fuck.”

“You know the only thing that gets me through it is I know whoever you end up being, whatever you remember—Buck is going to be right there front and center. You’ll get back everything you two were to each other…”

She already had on some levels. The sheer want of him and the grief she’d experienced in losing him.

“…and maybe there won’t be room for me. That’s me being selfish, I recognize it, but you wanted to know how I feel.” He downed the vodka in one long shot, no grimace this time. It was almost enough to make her proud even as she turned the words over in his head.

“You’re a punk,” James told him. “That last part? You’re a punk. Natalia doesn’t love lightly or easily, she’s not leaving you, Stevie.”

“You don’t know that…”

“No, I _do_ know that. Maybe I’m the only one in this room who does—because I _knew_ Natalia. I’ve loved her most of our lives. She doesn’t give up on people, even when she should.” He glanced at her. “Even when you should have walked away and let me sacrifice myself so you two could have a life.”

“They were never going to let me have that, James.” She may not remember it all, but that part she knew.

“I think it was still possible—but I think you did make that choice to come for me. You wouldn’t leave me.”

“Would you have left me there?” She raised her brows. Eventually, she’d had no choice. She had left. Erased—again. James erased and put in cold storage. Doomed to forget each other. “If it had been me who led them away and you who got Mary out? Would you have stayed with Mary and never come for me?”

He sighed and glanced away. In her mind, she had no doubt.

“Doesn’t change the fact I wish you had gotten to keep her, Natalia. To have raised her. To have that life… it hurts that you didn’t. It hurts more watching you tear yourself apart. I’d take on every piece of this for you if I could and Stevie is right—those days we didn’t know where you were but we did know you were suffering? They were Hell. Pure Hell. We focused on everyone—we even avoided each other.”

Frowning, Natasha glanced at Steve and he spread his hands. “I couldn’t come up here.” He motioned to the room around them. Then putting the glass aside, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his dog tags. In all of the excitement of the day, she’d not gotten them back. “I couldn’t bear to see these just hanging on that photograph in the bedroom. Bucky had to make me come up here. We argued, pushed, and pummeled each other.”

But they’d had each other.

“Stevie’s a punk,” James said flatly. “But now I have to fight my instincts which say never let you out of my sight when I know you can’t stand to be cornered or caged or leashed. You don’t deserve it either. I want to take you out on a date, hold your hand, dance—have sex and not just too boost your damn serum. I’m patient, we have time…I just…”

Squeezing his arm gently, she said, “Wish we didn’t have to always have to do it the hard way.”

“Exactly,” Steve said. “We’re not going anywhere. But Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Angel, I wish I could take this burden, too. If between the two of us, we could find Mary for you, tell you what happened—lay that piece of your past to rest. You have this—huge extended family that loves you. They all want to be here for you and we don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t want you to hurt,” Natasha told him. “I’ve never wanted you to hurt. Both of you—_both_ of you—have suffered so much.”

“And you haven’t?” James asked her even as Steve said, “So have you.”

“I don’t know how to do this…” Admitting that took everything she had. “I couldn’t get out—when The Mandarin had me. I got free, I cut through his men and I was still trapped. I had to be rescued that’s…that’s not me. Now? Now I need help from other people to unlock my mind? I keep learning that people I trusted weren’t worth it. There’s…I don’t know how to drag all of you into this. That’s what I’m doing and I don’t want any of you hurt.”

“Don’t stand in front of me, Nat.” Steve stared at her. “Stand next to me. Stand next to us. I know we keep trying to stand in front of you. Tony wants to put armor around you, Clint wants to clear away the targets, I want to be right there with my shield and…”

“…I don’t want you having to fight anymore,” James admitted. “But Stevie’s right—you don’t have to protect us.”

“But you have to protect me?” she argued.

“Yes,” James said and Steve didn’t dispute it. “Natalia, you are the strongest person I know. You have survived insurmountable odds and more often than not you’ve had to survive them on your own. You’re _not_ alone now and I was raised to take care of and protect my family. Could you possibly just let us do that right now?”

“If we do it together.” It wasn’t the 1940s and she didn’t need them playing hero to her hapless damsel. “If you protect me, then I protect you. Side-by-side.”

“Agreed,” Steve said even as James stared at him. “Buck, she isn’t going to go for us trying to hide her away, even if I want to. Even if I’d rather get us a place in the middle of nowhere, fortify it and make sure nothing ever got near you again.”

“Some people would call that a prison, Steve.”

The dour look he gave her almost made her smile, particularly because even amidst all of this, they weren’t _arguing_.

Tipping her head to the side, she said, “I want to…” She extended her hand and Steve took it, his dog tags still in his palm and the chain looped over a couple of her fingers. “I want to do this and not hear or feel him in my head. I’m trying to block it out, but at the same time I’m trying to break down all these other barriers.” Sliding her hand down to James’ she interlocked their fingers. The warmth in his right hand chased away any chill in hers. “I want to be like we were before… I just don’t know how to get there.”

“One day a time,” James said, he lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Every day, you’re reaching out more. You’re asking for more. It’s not an overnight process, Natalia.”

“As aggravating as it is for all of us,” Steve pointed out. “We’re _together_. If _you_ go to Wakanda. _We_ go to Wakanda. If you go through whatever these treatment options are that Strange comes up with. Then we go through it, too. We’re there.”

“If it gets to be too much?”

“Then Stevie and I go to the gym and beat the crap out of each other,” James said matter-of-factly. “You?”

“I’m going to dance in the morning.”

His sudden smile was the sun coming out from the clouds. “Good.”

“Steve...I don't know everything I'll remember, but remembering Natalia doesn't mean I forget you. I'm not trading one life for another. You're kind of stuck with me.”

His eyes shone and she held his gaze as he took a long deep breath and released it. Then he nodded. “One last thing,” Steve said. “I’ve been doing some reading on overcoming aversion to touch—or at least what can cause it and the treatment options. I also—in the interests of full disclosure—talked to Sam about this.”

James sighed. “We all talked in circles to Sam, he knew we were talking about you.”

That explained the closeted meeting they all had in Steve’s office along with Tony.

“We want to help, but we don’t want to be overbearing… so one of the things I read said there are ways to do it. Exposure therapy, which you’ve already been doing, is one. But there might be an easier way—maybe. A way to help.”

“Okay.” She glanced at James but he lifted his shoulders. He didn’t know what Steve was talking about. Steve squeezed her hand once, then stood. He reached for the blanket he’d brought out, the super soft one draped over her lap.

“Can I try something?” Steve asked.

She drained her vodka and set the glass down and then released James before she nodded. Steve beckoned her to stand up, so she did and James shoved the coffee table away, careful not to knock any bottles over.

“Turn around,” Steve said, though his tone made it a request. Figuring he was about to do something with the blanket, she nodded and turned to look at James. He was watching them both with a slight frown. “Okay, wrapping this around you,” Steve told her as he draped the blanket, but rather than just hanging it around her, he wrapped her up, pulling the edges tight.

It was constricting, not quite trapping her arms, but still keeping her a little bound. Over the blanket, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. There was and wasn’t contact it was…

“How you feeling?” Steve asked, his lips near her ear but not touching her.

“Honestly?”

James rolled his eyes then stared at her like duh and Steve chuckled. “Yes, please.”

“A little weird.”

“Weird good or weird bad?”

“Not bad…not sure about good. Not freaking out. That’s something right?”

“Yes, it is,” Steve said, a smile in his voice. “Okay step two.” He shifted, his arms loosening around her and he swept her up, all bundled and cradled and then sat down on the chair and the only place she came close to really touching him was her head against his shoulder.

It was…nice.

They sat there like that for a couple of minutes. Steve’s hand moved against her back, she could feel the pressure but not quite the contact.

“You good, Doll?”

“I think so,” Natasha answered. No panic skated through her but the uneasiness didn’t quite settle. Aware of just how close they were considering how jangled her nerves were. “You’re triggering my parasympathetic nervous system.”

“Yes, ma’am. Not quite as dirty as it sounds.”

Natasha lifted her head and stared at him. “It doesn’t sound dirty at all.”

“Fine, you say potato—” He smirked then squeezed her just a little tighter and she put her head back on his shoulder. “I know it’s not quite the same.”

“No, but it’s…it’s nice.” A sigh worked out of her.

“I figure you could sit with me for a bit, then maybe sit with Bucky—take a break if you need it—and tonight? When we go to bed? You’re under the covers and we’re on top.”

“Ease her back into the contact.”

“Yep,” Steve said. “That’s what the book said.”

“What did Sam say?”

Steve grinned. “He said to let you kick my ass.”

James snorted but Natasha laughed. “You know, Sam’s just trying to be my favorite.”

“Yeah well, I hear this dude Remy already has the job…” Steve deadpanned.

Natasha glanced at James. “We should introduce Sam to Remy.”

James’ whole expression brightened. “Oh, _please_ let me do it.”

Against her side, Steve’s chest rumbled as he chuckled and she closed her eyes. This close she could breathe him in.

It really was nice.


	16. Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concern for James has Natasha taking steps.

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Lead**

**Natasha**

It was mostly dark in the bedroom when she opened her eyes. Steve lay on his side, head tucked on an arm he had curled beneath his cheek. His other arm lay across her waist. The weight cushioned by the heavy blanket offered comfort without contact. She knew enough about manipulating the mind to appreciate tricking herself. More, she fully encouraged it. Cuddling had been nice. Turning her head, she gazed at the empty space on her right side.

With care, she slid out from under Steve’s arm. Moving slowly, she didn’t want to disturb him. His peaceful expression, barely visible in the low light from the bathroom wrenched her. They _hadn’t_ been sleeping well. Steve’s little blanket trick had been delightful. She’d curled up in his lap for nearly half an hour before he shifted her to James. Being held without the agitation vibrating under her skin let her relax and she hadn’t missed their expressions. Their need to take care of her had never been more apparent. Raw and bruised as they’d been, they still managed sleep and the shift in the covers meant she hadn’t needed to worry about accidentally brushing against them.

She still hated the weakness getting in the way, but if there was a way around it. They’d find it. Barefoot, she padded out of the bedroom. The rest of the floor was quiet, but James was even more silent than she when he wanted to be.

“Friday,” she asked quietly.

“Yes, Natasha?” The AI responded in an equally hushed tone.

“Did James leave the floor?”

“Yes, he went up to the roof.”

She slanted a look toward the windows where the snow continued to fall, catching light off the surrounding buildings as it came down. “Does he have a coat?”

“Yes, as well as his boots.”

Pivoting, she checked the coffee in the pot and got it going, then she tip-toed back into the bedroom. Steve was still out like a light and she hadn’t seen him sleep this deeply since she got back. She wasn’t disturbing him if she could help it.

After gathering her clothes and boots, she slipped back out to the living room. The first pot had run through, so she filled at thermos for her, then sent the rest through for a second brew. She traded out the sleep shorts for leggings, then dragged the ski pants over them. They’d keep her insulated and warm. The suspenders cracked her up, but she dragged them over the shirt. She pulled a hoodie on and zipped it up, then a snow jacket waited with her boots. Bouncing toes to heels, she kept her gaze on the weather.

Third pour going, she wrote a note to Steve and left it next to the pot and got the second coffeemaker set up for him. When the third pour had finished, the strong scent of coffee hit her. She filled a second thermos for James before she dragged on her ski jacket and stuffed her feet into boots.

Inside, she was wearing too much and would swelter, but she doubted that outside. Pulling the hood up, she tightened the jesses and then wrapped a scarf around her neck and stuffed hand warmers into her pockets along with gloves.

Thermoses in hand, she said, “Elevator on silent mode please, Friday.”

“Of course,” the doors opened for her. “To the roof?”

“Yes, please. Do you have heaters up there like on penthouse deck?”

“We do, they are located near the benches that are directly against the elevator vestibule. I can deploy the Iron Legion for you as well.”

“I appreciate that, keep them in reserve. I have my bracelet on…but privacy if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Sergeant Barnes did seem distressed when he went up.”

Distressed.

Maybe she shouldn’t have wasted time on making the coffee.

“Please note, Natasha, it's also 34 degrees Fahrenheit, with a wind chill making it feel like twenty-five. The slow moving depression continues to stall over the area and increasing the likelihood of this storm being recognized as a blizzard.”

The elevator opened and she stepped out into the vestibule. The door was closed but the lights on the roof had been turned off. Probably James preferring the dark. The snow came down steadily and the fall of it took her back to so many years in Moscow, Stalingrad, Siberia…Arkhangelsk. The winter was in her blood.

But she’d never been afraid of Winter.

Nor of her Soldat.

Storing the coffee thermoses under her arm, she pulled on her gloves then pushed the door open. James had already shoved the snow away from the entrance. He stood about ten feet away, a shadow amongst shadows, the snow breaking around him the only hint he was there. Smoke twirled up only to be torn away with the same wind that whisked against her face.

He twisted at her arrival and she could almost feel his frown. “Natalia…”

“I brought coffee,” she told him. “And company if you want it.”

He closed the distance. “It’s freezing up here.”

“Are you telling me we never escaped into the snow in all those years?”

This close she couldn’t miss the dampness on his cheeks. It could be the snow, but somehow she doubted it. “More than once,” he told her. “You used to sneak out onto the roof…”

“Yes—to watch the stars.” Had they done that?

“And to sneak over the roof to get to my room,” he told her his tone epically dry. “Even in the middle of a blizzard. You would slide down and knock against my window to let you in…a frost angel come to winter with me—or so you used to tease.”

She laughed. “I sound obnoxious.”

“Sometimes,” he said, but the sadness twining with teasing in his voice took any sting out of it. “You were always magnificent. So daring. You worried me so much.”

“Good to know things haven’t changed.” She held up the thermos she made for him. “Three brews—trade you for a cigarette?”

“Over there,” he said, pointing toward the bench next to the wall of the vestibule. The red lines on the roof below promised heat.

“But you seemed fond of over here,” she teased.

“Natalia,” he growled.

“Grumpy,” she retaliated but went as he asked. The absolute wall of snow coming down was both daunting and delightful. The stone of the bench promised warmth, but her ski pants kept her insulated as she sat. James wore only denim and his jeans were soaked. “It’s a good thing you’re cold resistant.”

He shrugged as he joined her. “I’ve had worse.” While she set the thermoses between them, he pulled out a pair of cigarettes—he must have crushed the one he had earlier—then lit them both. After he passed her one and she took it in her gloved fingers.

“You should be sleeping,” he chided. “You were so deep when I woke, better than you have been all week.”

“I know, but you were gone. Steve’s still asleep—unless my leaving woke him.”

“At least one of us isn’t being foolish.”

She snorted. “Give him time.”

His sharp huff of laughter echoed hers. “True.” As she drew on the cigarette, he twisted open the thermos. In the quiet, the crackle of the tobacco burning seemed loud. Snow quieted everything, muffling sound and the fact the city slept, cars safely stored away as most people were still in their beds. The snow day the kids had the day before would likely be extended to much of the city’s infrastructure today. Shopping would be a challenge—but there was something about exploring the silent, white city bound in snow and ice.

Natasha was too Russian to pass up the chance in the past.

“This is good,” he told her after a long swallow. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” she said, studying his profile. “James?”

He glanced at her.

“What can I do?” Sadness clung to him. The past was a darkness they could evade and sometimes even chase off with the light of the present, but it never really went away.

“Natalia, you have enough on your mind…”

“Well, actually, I have great big gaps in my mind, which suggests I have lots of room for more.” The joke sunk into the snow. “Even if I didn’t—I’m here. Tell me what I can do.”

He sighed, exhaling a long stream of smoke as his gaze went out to the snow. “Just a bad dream.”

They all had them. “Do you need to tell someone?” She never _wanted_ to discuss those things, but sometimes even she _needed_ to talk about them. James didn’t answer immediately. The heat rolling up at them blunted the wind, but couldn’t take it away.

When the quiet stretched, she studied his profile. His gaze was distant, his expression—fixed. Not lost, but not all there, either. He was still locked in his dream, his attention transfixed by whatever he’d seen there.

They drank their coffee and they smoked. When the first cigarettes were done, he lit another pair wordlessly and passed her one. She gave him another few minutes, but he volunteered nothing.

Maybe he needed the quiet to collect his thoughts. James had been through so much and in a few short months, he’d gotten his entire life back. A life he’d lost so much, in some ways, even more than her. His focus was always on her though and that wasn’t fair to him.

“You wanted to ask me things,” she said quietly. “Earlier and even before. You wanted to ask questions and you haven’t.”

“I’ve seen you tortured before, Natalia. I don’t have to ask you to know it was bad.” The immediate response included a glance at her. The assessing look in his eyes as familiar to her as her own. He wanted to gauge her reactions, resist pushing her…

“The place I found in Cobble Hill had two rooms, and a bed that folded straight out of the wall. It was a queen size, too large for me and Malyshka.”

His expression shifted and he glanced down at his hands.

“So I would roll together clothes to lay on the other side of her. To keep her in bed—and I’d pretend it was you.” Those sad little pieces of memory stabbed at her. “In the go bag that I carried across the mountains, I had one of your shirts in it and a jacket. I was careful with the shirt. Sealing it in a bag to keep it from losing its scent.”

James jolted, then he cut his gaze up to her.

“I told you I was missing you. Every day. Everything I remember tells me if not for Malyshka, the loss alone would have killed me. I would sing to her—songs on the radio, songs you remembered, children’s rhymes from somewhere… the lady on the first floor, she was always bringing us toys and food. She missed her own grandchild and she was a widow. I think she assumed I was one, too.”

It had seemed to bond the woman to her.

“I used that to create loyalty.” Natasha lifted her shoulders then took a drag on the cigarette.

“She was just barely walking…she had a few words when it happened.” James’ voice was raw, husky.

“She danced, just to the radio and with her doll. She would dance in circles.” She didn’t want to hurt him. “She asked about you.”

James closed his eyes.

“So I told her stories—I told her Papa was a great soldier and he’d gone to battle to keep the little tsarevna safe.”

A wet laugh escaped him.

“Malyshka made me tell her stories of Papa every night. Then I had to sing to her. Your shirt and your jacket were wrapped around the pillow I laid on her far side so she could snuggle up to you.”

Tears slid down his cheeks and Natasha put out the remains of her cigarette then tried to swallow her own tears with the coffee. This wasn’t helping him; all she was doing was grinding salt into the wound.

“I’ll stop,” she offered. It would kill her, but… “If my digging for this is hurting you—I’ll stop.”

“Don’t…” he said, swiping away the tears. “I want every moment for you…I want you to get those pieces back. You need them.”

“It’s hurting you.”

“If it didn’t hurt, I wouldn’t know I was alive,” he said, the husky bass of his voice scraping over her. “I’ve been numb, Natalia. I’ve been—lost. When she was born you told me you wanted that pain.” He lifted his hand and touched her face, the tears—she’d just thought it was the snow. “I want this pain. It’s ours. We share it.”

Leaning in, she pressed her face to his hand. She told him. She told him about looking up his sisters. The temptation to go to their families, but she didn’t. Not just because she wanted to protect them but because— “It was a wonder that this family of yours was still there. That no one had sent us to scratch them off. You had—people. A place. A name. A history. I didn’t want to hurt any of that… and I was… I was scared I wouldn’t be enough.”

Surprise flickered in his eyes. “Natalia…”

“James, how could I explain to them how you were alive and that I’d known you for decades? I was—a woman with blood on my hands. An assassin. A whore for her country. One of your sisters was a doctor, she saved lives. Another was a teacher—she shaped young minds and the other was a journalist. They were all fierce, independent women you would have been proud of. They had outstanding lives, dedicated to others.”

“You were not a whore,” he said, his voice a snarl.

“Yes, I was. We both were. Their weapons. Their tools. But not when we were Mary’s parents.”

When he dipped his head and pressed his forehead to hers, she didn’t pull away. “I know we were,” he whispered. “Never call yourself that again. I will not hear anyone speak badly of you—not even you.”

She smiled a little.

When he pressed his lips to her forehead, she sniffed and he leaned back to stare at her. “You are my life, Natalia Alianovna Romanova. You.”

“Then share your pain with me, James. Do not keep it inside where it burns. Tell me.”

He closed his eyes for a long moment, his shoulders sagging. “Natalia…”

“Our burdens, da? Yours and mine? We carry them for each other. We carry each other.”

Drawing out cigarettes he lit another pair then handed her one. “The Starks.”

A fist closed around her heart.

“I dreamt about Howard and Maria—I dreamt…I heard him calling me Sergeant Barnes. He knew me, Natalia. He recognized me. I killed him.” He blew out a long stream of smoke. “It was bad before when he was an old friend that I betrayed and now I have to wonder, did I kill the man who saved my family?” She took his hand in her gloved one and held on, his fingers tightened, flexing around hers. “It’s bad enough their son is—their son does all he does for us. I took his parents from him and he’s doing everything he can to help us find our daughter. In my dream…I see him, I see Howard—then it’s Tony I’m killing and you’re the woman in the car. Worse—in the backseat is a baby and she’s screaming and I know it’s not real, but it is and…I have so much blood on me.”

When he pulled his hand from hers, he stared at it.

“Why do I get this life? Why do I get it and they don’t?”

“I don’t know,” she told him. “I ask myself that question. But I do know one thing, James Buchanan Barnes.”

He sniffed as he glanced at her. “You really hate the name Bucky, don’t you?”

“You are not a dog,” she reminded him and he laughed. “I will not object to you allowing everyone else to call you that—but not I.”

With a deep sniff, he chuckled. “Fair enough, Natalia. I rather like that you call me James.”

“Because you are a smart man—most of the time.”

Now, he snorted. “What one thing do you know?”

“I know that the man you are here…” She pressed her hand to his chest, to where the beat of his heart. “This man? He was a good man and he remains one. My Soldat, he was not evil. He was not good, but he was not evil. He was. He existed. When given a choice—he chose love, not hate. Did we do terrible things?”

Her crimes were too long to list.

“Yes.” She swallowed. “But you chose love, James. You chose it as _Bucky._ You chose it as my Soldat. You chose it as James. Even when they took your choices from you—a part of you never forgot. If you were anything else you would not be tearing yourself up. You’re a _good_ man.”

“Not really, no.” He swept his gaze over her and then took a drag on his cigarette. “But you’re the only one who really understands that.”

Maybe she did. “I love you.” The words still sounded odd on her tongue, yet every time she said it, the more she grew accustomed to them.

A real smile softened his mouth. “That is everything, Natalia.”

She moved the coffee thermos and eased over to lean her head against his arm and he nudged back her hood some so he could lean his cheek to her hair. They sat there. Watching it snow while the heat rising below them turned errant flakes to steam.

Time trickled by, but she didn’t pay any attention. She finished her coffee. He finished his and they sat there. Smoking. The hush offered a kind of peace. More, being there with him offered peace.

“Are you still going to dance this morning?” The roughness in his voice told her they needed more coffee.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I need to get out of my head. Though—this has helped.”

A whisper of a kiss to her crown, then his cheek pressed against her hair again. “I love watching you dance.”

“You’ve told me.”

“Have I?” He gave an almost verbal shrug. “It’s the kind of thing you should hear more often. You remind me of how beautiful the world can be—watching you dance is an intoxicating experience.”

From anyone else, she’d probably dismiss the prosaic nature of his praise. Too much. It offered too much. It asked too much. Yet—from James—it echoed with such devastating honesty. “Did we ever dance?”

He didn’t answer immediately and she fought the urge to shift her position so she could look at him. “You were the dancer, Natalia,” he said, finally.

Straightening a little, she did look at him. “James…”

He sighed, tapping out another cigarette. “You’re the dancer, lyubov moya. I took pleasure in watching you perform.”

“According to Steve—you used to dance very well,” she said slowly. “You used to squire all the girls to dances and you were supposed to be really good at it.”

He eyed at her, the tip of his cigarette burning red. He offered her one but she shook her head.

“We’ve never danced—you and I?”

He grimaced. Then he licked his chapped lips and sighed. “My arm…it—throws off my balance a little. I compensate everywhere else, but we were never anywhere we could dance and then I just didn’t. I enjoyed watching you and that was enough.”

Turning sideways, she tilted her head. “So on the island when I wanted to dance and you kept saying no…”

“I haven’t really danced with a dame since before this…” He motioned to his arm. “And I’m not about to plod on your feet.”

James moved with a great deal more grace than he realized. Yes, there was deliberateness to his walk—a seeming cockiness in his stride. Part of that was his compensation for the extra weight created by his arm. Except… “This arm isn’t as heavy as the old one, is it?”

She trailed her fingers over his left hand. The metal was different, more vibranium and vibranium was so much lighter than his arm before. She’d taken a hit from that arm and it had been the same one pinning her to a table, strangling her.

“No, it’s not,” he said, shifting so he could let his left hand rest in her gloved hands. The sky around them was still dark and the surrounding building lights on the snow lit the air with a glow.

“You can move better?” She knew the answer to the question before she even asked it and the look in his eyes promised he understood exactly what she was doing.

“Natalia…”

“Ah-ah!” She held up a finger. “You move better?”

“Yes. It changes nothing—the dancing I did before, lifting…this arm isn’t the same.”

“James, if what you’re saying is true, you haven’t truly danced in over seventy years. Dancing isn’t the same anymore.” It baffled her that they’d never danced. Was Natalia so selfish she’d never asked him? Had she assumed he couldn’t?

He finished the cigarette, then closed his fingers lightly over her gloved hand. “We should go in, your cheeks are red and I don’t want you getting too cold.”

“Nice deflection, Barnes. Not your best work.” What was he avoiding?

Impatience flared in his sigh. “It’s not a deflection. It’s freezing up here.”

“And there’s a heater right below our feet that I know _I _can feel through my boots and since I’m wearing insulated clothing and you’re not…”

He frowned at her.

“…now, if _you_ are cold…”

“I’m not cold,” he grumbled.

“Good, then we can sit here and I’ll even go make more coffee and bring it back up if you want.” She made as if to stand, but he tugged once. A request for her to stay.

“Natalia—I don’t dance. Not anymore. The—happy-go-lucky idiot who did that, he had no idea how lucky he had it. I’m not that guy.”

“Okay…so Steve isn’t that skinny guy from Brooklyn who never met a fight he couldn’t fall into.”

“No,” James countered. “He’s a bigger lughead from Brooklyn who still hasn’t met a fight he couldn’t fall into.”

She smiled. “I’m not Natalia Romanova anymore. We change. Do you just not want to dance?”

He turned her gloved hand over and frowned. “No, that’s not it.”

“Do you not want to dance with me?” It was a gamble, ridiculous one but…

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“How could dancing with me, hurt me?” That answer didn’t make sense.

“I’m not light on my feet.”

She almost said bullshit but bit the inside of her lip to say nothing.

Finally, he gave her a pained look, “Natalia—I don’t remember how to dance. Not… properly.”

Rising, she tugged on his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Dancing with you.”

He frowned. “Natalia—the snow?”

Flicking her fingers at him, she raised her eyebrows. “Russian. Next excuse?”

Lips pursed, he narrowed his eyes. “Music?”

She hummed a few bars of _Dream a Little Dream of Me_ as she moved a few steps.

Chin dropping, he murmured, “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“If you really don’t want to dance with me,” she told him and then released his hands and began to dance alone, humming the song until she caught the first few bars and danced into the snow.

James stared at her, his lips parted and then he caught her hands and pulled her back to him. “If I step on your feet…”

“You’ll get my boots,” she promised. “Who knows…maybe I’ll step on yours.”

His snort made her grin and she adjusted his hand to clasp hers and then she moved his hand to her waist before settling her free hand on his shoulder and she started humming the song from the top, three slow steps into it and the song began to trickle out of the speakers and he paused a hesitant step then recovered.

Bit by bit, he loosened up as they moved in a slow waltz. When the song segued to Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, Natasha laughed. “Friday’s getting cheeky.”

“Getting?” James challenged and still moved drawing her closer. “I know this song.”

They drifted with the song and she joined in Ella’s part and James’ smile grew. “Heaven… I’m in heaven and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak and I seem to find the happiness I seek when we’re out together, dancing cheek to cheek.”

“You’re spoiling me, Natalia.”

“Good.” The snow around their feet got shuffled aside as they turned and moved. Nothing fancy, but he drew her close and she pressed her forehead to his chin and followed the simple box step. When he hummed with the song, her smile grew and still the snow kept falling and she couldn’t find it in her to care. Her face was numb but she didn’t want the moment to end.

Sinatra serenaded them and James eased her away and then he spun her out carefully and then drew her back. “Oh, fancy,” she teased.

“Shut up,” he said with a chuckle.

“Never.”

“I love you, Natalia.”

Her smile grew. “I know.”

The answering groan he gave her along with the shake of his head delighted her.

He grew more comfortable with every song, soon they were switching it up and her face ached with smiling. Despite his earlier claim about not being light on his feet—which she’d known was bullshit—he kept her practically floating. Friday continued with the makeshift playlist, until James dipped her and when he lifted her up, she clasped his nape and he locked his gaze on hers. Then he closed the distance, the kiss as light and gentle as the flakes melting on her cheeks.

Slowing, he teased her lips apart and she clung to him, savoring the sweep of his tongue against hers. The way his mouth demanded and gave, it sent heat flaring through her system. Chill evaporating, she sucked on his tongue lightly. He tasted of coffee, tobacco, and snow. He tasted like James and before she was ready, he lifted his head and smiled.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I know,” he chuckled, then they were moving again.

Friday continued her magical little playlist carrying them through the decades. When Anne Murray’s _Danny’s Song_ came on, tears filled her eyes and James kissed away the first drops. More from the seventies resonated with her and she caught the songs James recognized. A hitch to his step or the way his hand would tighten on her waist.

About halfway through Journey’s _Open Arms, _the door to the vestibule opened and Steve stared at them. “It’s official, you’re both crazy. Come in out of the freezing cold and dance inside.”

Natasha laughed and hugged James. “But then we couldn’t dance in the snow.”

With a shake of his head, Steve pushed the door wider and carried out two large thermoses with him. James chuckled. “He comes bearing gifts.”

“I came to thaw you out if necessary. How long have you been out here?”

“I don’t know what time it is,” Natasha admitted. Friday turned the music down as Steve handed her one thermos then passed the other to James.

“After five.”

“Oh.” She almost winced. “So—about three and a half hours?”

“Four for me,” James admitted. “You want to go inside now, Doll?”

A part of her didn’t want the magic to end. “A little longer?”

“Stevie—dance with our girl.”

“After she gets some hot coffee into her,” Steve ordered, his eyes a little softer and his smile a little more indulgent. The snow clung to his beard. At least he’d worn a heavier jacket. Natasha caught James’ gaze and raised her eyebrows.

“You and I are far from done, Barnes.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, Romanova.”

She grinned. “Dancing date?”

“Noted,” he murmured, inclining his head.

Moving closer to the heat, she took a sip of the coffee. It was perfect. From the corner of her eye she caught Steve’s wondering expression he shot to James and James lifted his shoulders, then nodded to her.

No, she wouldn’t tell Steve of the dark dreams chasing James from their bed. Hopefully, they’d chased some of those dreams away. Another drink and she set the thermos down before dancing over to Steve and holding out her gloved hands. “May I have this dance?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line.” He winked.

Friday turned up the music accordingly and James settled back on the bench, a lit cigarette in hand watching as she and Steve danced. Every time her gaze collided with his, he smiled. Yes, the shadows were there but he wasn’t drowning anymore.

She and James had traded leads, now she did it again with Steve. They were getting pretty good at it.

They didn’t go in after one more song. Or another.

She even managed to get James back on his feet for a couple of songs and it was well past six when they stumbled inside with their thermoses. She was warm despite the cold and they had to dust off before they got into the elevator. On Steve’s floor, they split up for showers and she came out in warm pajamas and carried the blanket over to James and eyed him.

When he wrapped her up in it and settled her in his lap, she smiled. Yep, they could definitely exchange leads.

She was still floating when she drifted right back to sleep.

~~~

A couple of hours later, still yawning, she settled in front of the plate piled with an omelet, bacon, and fried potatoes and toast. Steve and James had taken turns getting food prepped; they’d made a ton of it, too. Peter showed up right on time and Tony arrived, hair in disarray, eyes bloodshot, and a mug of coffee already in his hand.

“Did you forget to go to bed?” She studied him as he settled at the table.

“I went to sleep,” he answered, indirectly avoiding the actual question. He fell asleep in his lab. He started to ask something when a yawn caught him, half-swallowing the words. Peter stared at him askance, before he snickered and settled at the table with his own plate.

“You sure about that?” Peter asked.

“Pretty sure.” Tony couldn’t get more than a syllable or two out before another yawn caught him. He scowled into his coffee then took a deeper drink of it. Steve slid a plate in front of him and Tony stared at it a beat like he couldn’t quite identify the food in front of him or maybe he wasn’t sure how it got there. “I’m awake, right? Food doesn’t just appear because I’m hungry. Friday and I are good, don’t think we’re that good yet.”

“Speak for yourself, Boss. I’m pretty perfect.”

Natasha bit back a smile as Peter smothered a laugh.

After another swallow of coffee, Tony took a bite. He let out a happy sigh and Steve raised her eyebrows at her. It had been a while since she’d seen Tony this out of it. Lack of sleep she understood. Friday hadn’t alerted her to an issue, so chances were Tony got real sleep and maybe slept too deeply.

“You know,” Peter said idly as he speared a fried potato on his fork. “This could all be a dream, you’re still asleep, face down on the worktable—probably using your right arm as a pillow.” Based on the way Tony’s hair stood up slightly, that was a possibility.

Tony blinked at him then slid his glance toward Natasha. When he smirked, it was her turn to raise her brows. “Definitely not a dream,” he said by way of explanation, the playful leer suggesting an entirely different scenario.

Rolling her eyes, she didn’t hide her smile. “Behave and eat.”

“I’m eating—thanks, Steve,” Tony said over his shoulder, then drained his coffee.

“Yep,” Steve told him before eyeing Peter. “Pancakes are coming up.”

“Excellent,” Peter said with a grin.

“They are,” James added. “Finish that and get over here and make ‘em.”

Peter blinked and Natasha chuckled. “You eat here enough, it’s time to learn.”

“Yeah—okay.” He powered through his food fast enough that both she and Tony paused mid-bite. Plate cleared, he stood then washed down the food by finishing the tall glass of orange juice. Bounding up, he headed into the kitchen.

Astonishment slid over Tony’s face as he tracked the kid. “Did you eat it or inhale it?”

“I was hungry,” Peter deflected, shifting his stance.

Steve had just slid an omelet onto his own plate and shook his head. “I’ve been there.”

“Me, too,” James offered in solidarity and Natasha covered her amusement with another bite. Honestly, she could probably eat with the same amount of enthusiasm. Despite the lack of sleep, the time on the roof—dancing with James, talking to him, and then curling up to sleep in his lap for a couple of hours had all buoyed her mood.

As James supervised, Peter whipped the batter up and got to work creating the massive stacks of pancakes the boys would plough through. Steve joined her and Tony at the table, resting his foot against the lower rungs of her chair. When he’d told her he worried she wouldn’t feel the same way about him if she got all her memories back, it had taken a while to truly sink in. But she didn’t disagree with James—remembering who she was wouldn’t alter her memories now.

Clint feared the same thing. Recovering her memories couldn’t alter her past. She was still the woman who left the KGB, Red Room, and Hydra behind in 1984. She’d made her way as a freelance contractor, periodically eliminating the teams sent to reclaim her.

They never sent the Solider after her. Not once in that long decade and a half before Clint found her. So many of those in charge of the programs died between ’84 and ’91.

She’d killed them.

One by one. She hunted them down and exterminated them. She took apart the Red Rooms. Removed any children under their care and if she could save them, she had.

They may not have sent the Soldier because they simply lacked the key personnel to give the directive.

Or maybe they worried she would take out their asset or procure him for herself.

Not recalling who he was to her then and aware of only the emptiness in her own soul? She might have killed him.

The thought soured her stomach and she looked into her nearly empty mug of tea. Steve nudged the chair and she glanced up to find him, Tony, and even James eyeing her with concern. Assuring them with empty platitudes wouldn’t do them any good. So, she lifted a forkful of food and ate it then made a face at them.

It pulled a snort from James and a smirk from Tony, but Steve wouldn’t be so easily assuaged. At the same time, he didn’t push.

“What are we doing today?” Peter asked, cutting a glance from the pancakes he was flipping to the broad windows overlooking the snow-capped city. It was still coming down. Reports indicated airports had already closed and even stores had reluctantly begun announcing that they too would be closed for the morning and they would make decisions about the afternoon later in the day.

The weather reports said afternoons weren’t looking good and the next day either. She hoped Logan and Remy found a good spot to button down. In fact… “Excuse me a sec.”

She headed for her bedroom and plucked her phone off Steve’s side of the bed. After charging it the day before, she’d just—ignored it.

The sheer volume of messages made her cringe, but she tracked down Logan’s number and called it.

Voicemail.

Well, it wasn’t noon yet.

“Hey Logan, it’s me. I wanted to check on you and Remy. Find out if you were still in the city. If you have any problems with a place to stay in the storm, you’re more than welcome to come and stay with me or I can get you into one of my safe houses…” Pausing, she glanced at the closed door and sat on the edge of the bed. “I know I was out of it when you left, but thank you for the photo. Before you handed that to me, I only had some of my sketchy memory to go by and—I can’t tell you what a gift that was. Anyway—if you’re still around, I have my phone back or you can call James as well. Spasibo, malen'kiy dyadya.”

Ending the call, she stared at the phone in her hands. Scrolling through the messages, she pulled up Maria’s message thread and opened it.

**Maria:** Call me.

**Maria: **Take five minutes off the testosterone train and call me, Nat.

**Maria: **I get it. You don’t know whether to trust me. Maybe you shouldn’t. I’m on your side.

**Maria: **When Nick went down—it wasn’t you I didn’t trust. I knew you weren’t involved.

**Maria: **After—after I thought you’d come find me. You walked away.

**Maria: **Don’t know why I’m sending this. Rogers & Co just left. You’re missing.

**Maria: **Still don’t know why I’m sending you a message—except I’m sorry. Maybe I never told you that, but I am really fucking sorry if I’m one of the reasons you walked away in the first place.

**Maria: **I should learn not to drink and text. Ignore me.

**Maria: **If you’re not dead—I may kill you myself.

Natasha raised her eyebrows at that message, then scrolled down. The first had all arrived during the week she’d been with The Mandarin. That last one was sent Friday, a full week after the party. The next…

After she and Nick had been to the Tower on Sunday.

**Maria:** I don’t want to do this in a text message. I have marching orders to keep my distance from you. I will. However, I owe you a real explanation for Tahiti, the memory machine, The Guest House, all of it. All of us. I owe you an apology, too. So even if you never want to discuss the above, I’m sorry. I blamed Barton. I think I still blame Barton for always taking you away because I got you by default. That you always chose him, stung. Looking back, I want to say we both made mistakes, but it’s hard to blame you for what you couldn’t possibly have known. I took advantage of it because I wanted it to be real. It felt real. It was real. For me at least.

A light knock on the door preceded Steve glancing inside. “You good?”

“Yeah,” she said, closing the messages. “Just wanted to call and check on Logan. Got voicemail.”

He nodded, pushing the door wide at her approach and slipping inside, before closing it. Leaning against the door, he studied her. “I want to suggest something and hear me out, okay?”

Tipping her head to the side, she raised her brows. “Okay.”

“Tony and I are going to shanghai Peter off to do some work, probably end up in a lab talking a mile a minute, but I figure it’ll be time I can work on some sketching, too.”

He could work on his sketches here.

“You and Bucky…”

“Steve—” He held up a hand and she quieted.

“You and Bucky need some time. What I didn’t tell you this morning when I came up to the roof—I was watching the two of you for a few minutes before I opened the door. You both need the time together. Time to talk to just be there to hear or maybe just to play. Fine, if you just end up watching a movie. I know I’m a part of you guys and you aren’t cutting me out—but you’re Mary’s parents, this happened to you and some things… some things are personal, Angel.”

James had seemed so lost up there, he wasn’t wrong. It had—been nice to dance with him.

“Are you just going to be gone for the rest of the day?”

“I don’t know. We can play that by ear—we don’t know when Strange is going to call, or when the next assemble will come in. We know we have to do the Compound and the team. Peter’s here and Peter wants your help, but the storm is going to restrict that. Tony needs time with you, too.”

The last made her blink. “What about you?”

“I found a way to hold you,” he said softly. “That doesn’t make you flinch or sweat or pale. I’m finding a way to take care of you. I’m happy with that…”

“What if I need time with you, too?” The gift of time with James was amazing but…

“Then you have me, whenever you want me.”

She shifted from one foot to the other.

“We’ve got time, Angel. Remember what we said last night? Side-by-side? I want to do this for the two of you, let me take care of Tony and Peter for you so you and Bucky can take care of each other.”

“Tony really doesn’t want to spar today, does he?”

“No, he really doesn’t,” Steve admitted. “From what he said, he had trouble sleeping. He’s also worried about you and you said you were giving yourself a few hours.”

Turning, she snagged the duvet off the bed and dragged it forward. Steve pushed off the door and caught it, then wrapped it around her and pulled her so he could loop his arms around her and tip his face down.

“This what you wanted?”

“Close. I’d rather do it with less clothing and more participation, but right now…”

“Yeah,” Steve murmured, burying his face against her hair and something tight in her went loose at the strength wrapping around her. The firm pressure. “Angel, you may not believe this. In fact, I know you won’t. You’re going to snort, probably roll your eyes and tell me it’s cute that I think this—but you’re an amazing woman. You have always been a survivor, always had to rise above everything done to you and you never see how amazing you are because you are always focused on the next pile you have to muck through.” Leaning away, he stared at her. “You never ask anyone for what you need. You barely know how to ask for what you want. But you have never, ever, stopped trying to be what we need or make sure we get what we want. Taking care of us—taking care of the people around you consumes you even when you should be focused on yourself.”

“You’re right,” she said, blinking away tears before she rolled her eyes. “You are cute that you think that. Steve, I’m just…”

“Perfect,” he whispered. “Perfectly you. No one else can be you, Natasha. No one. You are perfect.”

Her throat clogged and she frowned, but he didn’t let go or make light of it. His intent expression kept her pinned and for the first time, she felt almost too exposed, too vulnerable.

“I see you, Natasha,” he whispered. “You know that, right? You see me. You see _me_. But I see you, too.”

“Even the ugly bits?” Cause of all the things…

“Nothing about you is ugly to me, Angel. I see the rough bits, the scar tissue, the jagged ends… I see it all. None of it scares me. The only thing I worry about is not being enough for you. Not being able to…”

She pulled her hand from inside the blanket and covered his lips. “You’re perfect.”

His eyes softened then he snorted, after pressing a kiss to her fingers, he leaned away from them and said, “It’s cute that you think that.”

Wrapped up again, she closed her eyes and just leaned into him.

Finally, he took a slow step back, easing the duvet around her until she held it.

“We’ll see you later?”

“Yep.” Steve pressed a kiss to his finger then brushed it against her lips.

“What about family dinner tonight?”

“One step at a time.”

Ten minutes later, he had Peter and Tony in the elevator and they were gone. James leaned against the counter, arms folded and cut a glance at her. “He’s being noble and self-sacrificing.”

“He loves us,” she answered, leaning against the doorframe and studying him. “But I don’t think he’s wrong.”

“No, but we’re not telling him that.” James gave her a firm look. “Not yet, anyway.”

“So…you and me for the rest of the day…”

“Looks like it.” Pushing away from the counter, he motioned to the table. “You want to finish your food?”

Hers was the only plate still there along with a steaming cup of tea.

“Did you guys finish all those pancakes already?” She left the doorframe, crossing over to join him at the table.

“We were hungry,” he teased, tugging out her chair for her and she sat. When he would have circled the table, she nudged out the chair closer to her. “Peter can definitely eat.”

“I’ve seen it—though I’ll admit, I have been known to eat my fair share.”

James grinned. “I’ve cooked for you, too, Natalia. When you were pregnant and we were traveling you wouldn’t eat very much, you were constantly saving food. Always putting aside some, I couldn’t figure out why at first. Even when I found extra, so you would have more, you still saved some and kept it. Did it for a bit at the cabin, too.”

“Meals were a luxury. You had to earn the right to even sit down much less receive food. It was easier to snitch rolls or bits of hard cheese, and keep them for those days when food wasn’t available.” She speared the fried potatoes. “You also should never eat so much a punch to the stomach would make you vomit.”

“Do you still hide food?”

Natasha grinned. “You know I do—you have to have found the protein and candy bars and the…”

“…snack cakes and Twinkies?”

“And vodka,” she said pointing her fork at him. “Though I think they stripped most of what I had hidden on my floor out, probably tossed it in the destruction.”

“You’re keeping it in the shoebox in the back of the closet and you have more in the bottom right drawer of your dresser.” The fact he’d found them didn’t embarrass her.

“How often do you search my room?”

Guilt flushed his face and he shifted forward to lean on his elbows. “I don’t mean to…old habits for scouting a location, knowing where all the weapons are hidden.”

“Fair—but you keep yours so organized it doesn’t require a search.”

James laughed. “But you haven’t searched my room or Steve’s.”

“You sound very sure of that.”

“Natalia—do you trust me?”

It was a simple question and required absolutely no time for her to answer. “Yes.”

“You trust Steve.” This time it wasn’t a question.

“Also yes.”

“Do you have any reason to search our rooms?”

“No.”

“Then you have not searched our rooms.” James propped his chin in his hand as he studied her. The lines of tension around his eyes had eased. Though there was still some red in them.

“That makes me sound fairly predictable,” she murmured, before taking another bite. Though the food had gotten a little cooler, she was still enjoying the crunch of the potatoes. “Not sure what I think about that.”

“It’s us, you don’t mind,” he told her drily. “You don’t have to pretend with us—that’s the part that makes you the most uncomfortable.”

Narrowing her eyes, she said, “Are you trying to provoke me, zvezda moya?”

“Maybe,” he teased. “Or maybe I’m marveling over the fact the woman I love trusts me so completely she doesn’t spy on me. She doesn’t try to figure out what I’m doing when I’m not with her, she doesn’t attach trackers to me and she doesn’t even ask Friday for status reports.”

“Which means you _have _been checking up on me,” she considered aloud. “Or you’re nursing a secret you’re waiting for me to find.”

“You never know—now that you are going to chew on that thought for a bit, what would you like to do with our day together?”

“You choose,” she told him and he blinked. “You choose. This may not be our date—but I trust you. You choose. Today is about you.”

“Us,” he said. “Today is about us.”

As she took the last bite of her toast, she canted her head. “Okay. I’m following your lead, James. What do you want to do?”

The heat in his eyes promised a great deal. “So much, but how do you feel about going to explore the city?”

She glanced out the window. “You want to go to Brooklyn.” It wasn’t a guess.

“Cobble Hill?”

“It’ll take time…” And they definitely couldn’t take the corvette.

“Friday, do we have access to an all-terrain that can handle this snow?”

“I believe we have a couple of snow vehicles in transport, they were being studied for possible upgrades.”

James glanced at her and her smile grew. A snowmobile? Roving through a shut down city? Excitement threaded through her. Even going out to Brooklyn, to see if the place she remembered might be there.

“We just need one,” he answered, but raised his eyebrows to her in question. Natasha nodded.

“If you will give me a few minutes, I’ll see what I can do. Will you require any other equipment?”

“Heavy snow coats, neoprene masks…” He started to list off.

“I’ve got those, Friday,” Natasha said, rising with her empty plate. At his faint surprise, she snorted. “Please, James. I’m me. Like I wouldn’t have the gear for winter.”

“Fair enough.”

She headed back to her room and pulled out her gear. James arrived a couple of minutes later with his own. She stripped down to her bra and panties, aware of his gaze tracking her every movement.

“If it’s too much…” he began.

Turning slightly—vividly aware of his gaze dipping to her ass—she said, “I like when you watch me.”

“Oh,” he sounded pleased. “In that case… please. Continue. Would you like fresh panties?”

Natasha laughed. “Do you not like these?”

“Oh, I think they’re fine…” But he crossed over to her dresser and opened the drawer. He made a show of perusing the contents. “You have what, a dozen others in here? I have time for you to try them all on.”

Warmth cascaded through her. “Pick a pair and I’ll wear them for you.”

“Deal.” Pleasure coated the word and he pulled out a black lace pair with silver detailing through the crotch. “How are these?”

Comfortable enough. Facing him, she hooked her fingers into the sides of her panties and peeled them down. Stepping out, she crossed to where he stood and said, “Put them on me?”

“Natalia,” he said, his tone a warning. “You do not have…”

“I want to,” she promised him. “Baby steps, right?”

Setting them low, he held the sides as she stepped one foot in and then other. At his angle, he was eye to eye with her abdomen, but his gaze remained on her eyes and she held his gaze as he kept his fingers just away from her until the panties reached her hips. Then carefully, he smoothed the seams before lifting his hands away. Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss to the air just above the scar on her abdomen. It was more the sensation of it than actual contact.

She licked her lips. “There’s a matching bra.”

The smile he wore reached his eyes and he made a twirling motion with his finger. Turning away, she closed her eyes. He carefully unhooked the one she wore and she let it fall down. After she returned to facing him, he rose. He opened the second drawer and pulled out the black and silver brassiere she’d picked up. Despite their styling, they were comfortable. She didn’t care much about how sexy they looked when she wasn’t working, but this was fun.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. He held the bra up and she slid her arms into the straps, aware of him as he tucked it carefully against her breasts, then she bent her hands up and back to latch the bra into place while his hands rested on the fabric of the cups, keeping them still. She’d never felt so touched without true contact.

As with her abdomen, he brushed a kiss to air just above silvery scar on her shoulder, the whisper of his breath a caress. As he glanced up, he narrowed his gaze against her lips and she met him partway, not touching, his hands hovering over her skin and hers spread out against the air just above his skin. The kiss, the lightest of touches, took her back to the roof. A second kiss, this one more nipping, then a longer one, a slow sensuous stroke where the only contact was their mouths.

Finally, he leaned away, his eyes heavy but still smiling.

“We’re going to need a lot more than a few minutes to get dressed at this rate.”

“Are you in a hurry?” she asked.

He shook his head slowly and then he reached for his shirt and tugged it off. Natasha drank in the sight of his chest, the taut muscles, the ropes of scars, the battered trail the past had left across him. Slowly, taking her time, she traced her lips just above each one. The pressure of his hands moving over her shape, just gliding in the air.

Every nerve electrified, but even as her skin hummed she treasured the sensation.

It took them an hour to get dressed. An hour to admire and tease the air over each other, only after she slid on her jacket and he hooked it together to zip up did his mouth find hers again and she rose up on her tiptoes, gripping his jacket as he teased her mouth open, slow and soft.

“Ready?” he asked and she let out a shiver, then a nod.

“I almost forgot we were going out.”

He laughed. “We don’t have to—I don’t mind undressing you again.”

Closing her eyes and savoring that image, she said, “So tempting, but you wanted to explore. To move. To see.”

She got it, so did she. Now that he’d brought it up. Escaping into the wintry wilderness sounded divine. To just—get out of here and out of her head. Even if it meant going to find another piece of the past they’d divined.

He grabbed two heavy-duty thermoses, each loaded with fresh hot coffee and they slid into the elevator.

Friday carried them down to the garage level. She had Steve’s dog tags on, tucked under her shirt where she could feel the metal against her skin and Tony’s bracelet was on her wrist. She also had both Glocks in her shoulder holsters, three knives, her stingers, and a garrote.

James was similarly armed. They wanted to go and have fun but being unarmed was just asking for trouble.

She tugged her gloves on as they stepped out. The snowmobile sat waiting for them—three wheels down with the blades raised. She’d seen this kind before, the blades could be dropped once they hit the snow.

“This is a prototype, Friday.”

“Yes, Natasha. Boss said for you to have a good time.”

James held up a hand for her to wait and handed her the thermoses before he circled the vehicle. “Friday, can you give me the specs on this?”

A holo screen appeared and James inspected it then the machine. He went over it thoroughly, taking an extra ten minutes much to her amusement to totally familiarize himself and verify it was safe. It didn’t surprise her, the simple knowledge that her soldat had never let her enter or climb on to any vehicle he hadn’t personally inspected.

She was the same way, but she could trust his judgment as he would trust hers.

They might be paranoid, but at least they got it.

Once he was satisfied, he beckoned for her to join him. He stored the thermoses then tugged her knit cap more firmly over her ears before he lifted the hood, then she pulled up the neoprene to cover her mouth and nose. For a moment, as he strapped his on, she was reminded of the mask he wore when deployed. But the eyes gazing down at her were hot and full of life. Then he slipped a pair of goggles against her face to protect her eyes before he slid on his own. The goggles rested snugly against her face but unlike his previous pair—these were clear and didn’t hide his eyes from her.

“Ready?”

“Oh yes,” she whispered trusting he’d hear her over the comm. “Very much.”

He straddled the machine, then got it started and she climbed on behind him. As she wrapped her arms around him, their jackets insulating the contact, she called, “Keep in mind, I’m going to want to drive this thing later.”

“I have no problems hugging your ass, Doll,” he said over his shoulder, then touched his hand to where hers were locked over his abdomen. “Hold on?”

“Not letting go,” she promised.

Then the garage door opened and he accelerated to exit, they hit the ramp toward the street and the blades dropped and then they were flying across the top of the snow.

It was… glorious.


	17. Lyubov Moya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Nat take a trip to Brooklyn and maybe get a little closer to some answers

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Lyubov Moya**

**Bucky**

The engine purred more than rumbled as they flew over the snow. The lonely wind howled through the deserted streets. Some cars were parked along the side, buried. They would be in trouble when the plows rolled through. They passed plows on standby, the occasional vehicles for the NYPD and every now and then some intrepid soul out wading through the snow.

He slowed for the first one they spotted and Natalia leaned out to call to them. “Are you all right?”

“Just fine!” The man held up two bags. “My mother’s in this building. Just bringing her stuff and staying in.”

She waved to him and they were off again. Kids—Bucky could have been any one of those kids—were out hosting a snowball fight along one side street, and there were even crooked snowmen with twisted pipes for arms waving as they went past.

Natalia’s laughter at the sight of them—or maybe she’d seen something else that tickled her—was the soothing balm for his soul he hadn’t realized was missing. Neither of them had slept much the night before. It stunned him when she showed up on the roof. It shouldn’t have and yet—she took his breath away, bundled up with her green eyes intent on his every word and movement.

It was no wonder he’d fallen in love with her so many times. Loving her was in his blood. When she’d pulled the sad truth that they had never really danced out of him and he admitted wasn’t even sure he could anymore—a kind of shame infused him. Of all the things they faced, not being able to dance shouldn’t have been something to hold him back.

She’d taught Stevie to dance for the love of God, Natalia would never have judged him if he’d asked for similar lessons. But his fearless girl, she’d reached out to him and pulled him close and then they’d danced in the snow for hours. She didn’t flinch away from the blood on his hands or the darkness in his past.

While their heavy coats and her gloves allowed her, she’d clung to him, moving with him and when they kissed…

But that had nothing on dressing her in the bedroom or how she’d let him graze his hands over her shape or the sensuous way she returned the favor. He’d been harder than a stone before they were finished and they were putting on their clothes, not taking them off.

At the same time, that carnal ache couldn’t compete with escaping from everything and everyone alone, yet together. When Steve first suggested it to him, he’d dismissed it almost immediately but with Natalia sound asleep and curled up against his chest; Buck had turned the idea over in his head.

_“I’m not offering because I think I’m not welcome,” _Steve had said, his gaze on Natalia for a long moment before he met Bucky’s again. _“I’m offering because some things are still personal. You and I know that. You need her and she needs you right now. I’ve got these guys; let me do that for you. I’ll take care of them while you two go take care of each other.”_

_“She might not go for it,”_ Bucky had murmured, keeping his voice low. But Natalia was deeply asleep, all the stress and pain in her expression erased. Not even her dreams troubled her at the moment and he couldn’t ask for more.

_“I think she might… besides, I happen to know you can be persuasive.”_

Persuasive. Tony and Peter shuttled off to the lab with Steve babysitting—though he’d taken his sketchpad, likely to fill the hours with a new project. Bucky and Natalia were alone on Steve’s floor. While it was cozy, smelled like them, filled with decorations and warm memories, he’d wanted to leave. To get away.

Even with the snow still falling and the drifts piling up, there was something enchanting about the quiet city. Once upon a time, a mission had left them stranded in Siberia, a devastating storm had whited out the world and it had been just the two of them in this tiny one-room cabin. He’d had to shove a huge pipe upward, to make sure they could vent their smoke.

Little food, melting snow for water, and barely enough fuel to warm the room, they’d wrapped up in each other and spent three wondrous days alone. It had been a rare time where he could truly appreciate every inch of her and demonstrate his affection.

As they neared the bridge, he slowed. The FDR had been closed but the bridge access appeared to still be open. Though warning lights were flashing for hazardous conditions. Natalia tapped his shoulder as he stopped the snowmobile. “If we get stuck on the other side,” she reminded him. “We still have my place in Queens.” The comm seemed to enhance the soft rasp of her voice in his ear.

Bucky chuckled. “Don’t worry, Doll. If we get stuck, I’ll make Stevie come pick us up in the quinjet.”

Her huff had him twisting.

“Unless you want to get lost with me?”

Though the mask covered most of her face, her eyes held an element of mischief. “I’ll always want to get lost with you.”

Something deep inside of him settled. Something her kidnapping had dislodged. An old, and deep-seated need to inflict maximum damage lived well beneath the layers where Bucky Barnes and the Soldier met. In some ways, it was both of them and neither of them. It was the same instinct aroused the first time he’d seen her fight. He never questioned the instinct, acting on it instead.

It was that part of him that had been gritting his teeth since she disappeared. The need to kill what hurt her had threatened to overwhelm him at many points; yet looking after the others, grounding himself in the need to protect them had kept that desire in check. Every time she paled, or tensed, or the shadows twisted in her eyes, that dark part of him clenched his fists.

Give him a target to eliminate. He would remove every single one of them. When he told her no one would ever take her child again, he meant it. But removing the ghosts haunting her wasn’t about killing or even violence no matter how provoking. This was about something he couldn’t fight in bloody battle. No, they had to wage a different kind of war.

Natalia’s kind.

He nodded toward the bridge. It never failed to tug at something inside of him when he saw it. The other side of that bridge had once been his home. Now his home had her arms wrapped around him.

“Are you sure you want to go?” She was asking him.

He wanted to see the place they had if it was at all like it had been. There was a solid chance it had changed, the buildings and silhouette, all of it.

And maybe it hadn’t.

“James?” She tilted her head and he searched her eyes.

“I’m sure.”

He squeezed her hands once then patted them against his abdomen as he got them back in motion. The drift as they reached the bridge was impressive. There were plows working on clearing it, so he switched the controls to all-terrain and they went wheels down all the way over with the wind buffeting them from all sides. Natalia’s arms flexed against him, but Tony’s snowmobile didn’t skid once. As soon as they bounced up onto the drift on the other side, the blades dropped and the bounce sent a laugh bubbling out of Natalia.

She tapped him. Then pointed toward the side and he pulled the vehicle over and slowed to a stop. “What?” He glanced at her but she’d slid sideways to look back at the bridge.

When she didn’t answer him immediately, he scanned the bridge and the area behind them. No threats. When she turned back to face him, he studied her expression. “You okay?”

“Trying to put pieces together.”

A dozen things could go wrong if she tried to break a memory block out here. “I want you to remember—but not out here.” The wind blew the snow sideways and it was still falling. It had frosted along her hood, clinging to the edges of her goggles and his. Even the dark neoprene had flakes stuck against the black. If she triggered a memory block and seized? No. Just no.

“I won’t, James. I promise.” The oath settled him but it also gave him pause. Maybe he’d been a little too impulsive in deciding to come out here and find the place she’d taken for her and Mary. He very much wanted to feel a part of it, to feel a part of them, but more to just know.

She settled behind him again and when her arms threaded around his middle, he savored the contact. The layers of insulation helped. They would get there. Every day she would push herself a little further, it was up to them to buffer and let her have that distance without pressuring herself.

Clint had done his part, buying her some time with his family. After the message about Laura wanting to come to her even if Natalia didn’t go to the Compound, James had texted him asking that he let Natalia decide if she were ready for Laura, not the other way around.

They were all on the same page and there was a real chance Strange would show back up that day with his treatment recommendations, then Natalia would be on the phone with Wakanda…

“Hey,” she said, breaking him out of his reverie. “My turn—you okay?”

The words _I want to run away with you_ burned on his tongue. “Worried,” he admitted.

“We’re going to be all right,” she pressed close, her head resting against his. “I’m focused on where we are and who I’m with, nothing else.”

Rubbing her hands gently, he blew out a breath. “All right, hold on!”

Then he revved the motor and they were off again. The machine handled beautifully, he had to give Tony serious credit. The transitions were seamless and despite some uneven terrain at times, they weren’t jolting around.

A little under an hour after leaving the Tower he turned on President Street. Cobble Hill had just been South Brooklyn back in the day. Home to Irish, Italian, and Middle Eastern immigrants, all of them getting by. Their cultures filled these streets, a lot like they had where and he and Stevie had grown up. There were older houses and brownstones filling the area—particularly along President. Some of the brownstones dated back to the 19th century and they were fading grace when the depression held Brooklyn in her fist.

He had no idea when they started calling it Cobble Hill. The street was heavy with snow; cars had all been parked along one side. Lights illuminated the brownstones, but Bucky could almost see it for the past. Some of the brownstones had been refaced. They were pinker or whiter stones. Most of them had a below ground first floor and climbed another four stories to the top. The brownstones were close enough that leaping from roof to roof wouldn’t be a problem.

“There…” Natalia said. “Park there.”

Her gaze was fixed on the third brownstone from the corner. Bucky glided the snowmobile up onto the sidewalk. The purr of the engine prevented it from creating a racket. Natalia was off the back and she sank a full foot into the snow with her first step. Catching her elbow, he pulled her back. Then pulled out snowshoes that Friday had someone hook onto the snowmobile.

Natalia’s laugh was worth all the questions of who did Friday’s bidding with all the tasks she took care of. Then again, she ran Tony’s Iron Legion. Maybe they did it.

It took them a minute to strap on the snowshoes and Natalia walked out into the street, backing so she could stare at the building, then she turned in a slow circle before looking back up.

“Fifth floor?” James asked.

She nodded slowly.

“Where did you keep the go bag?”

The chance that Natalia left anything inside worth breaking in to find was negligible. She would have sanitized the location before she left.

The go bag though?

She pointed to the fourth building.

Catching her hand, he led her between the narrow space separating the two. Sure enough, there was a fire escape, along the back. He leapt and caught the ladder, then pulled it down, they stripped the snowshoes and shouldered them before climbing.

Nothing was going to be there.

But, the act of going to look… it settled something in him and Natalia wasn’t protesting.

On the roof, there was a small table and chairs, half-buried in the snow. There were also a few cigarette butts near the door. They weren’t quite buried which meant someone had been nipping up to smoke. The snow around the door had also been packed down. Natalia made her way past the door to where the bricks formed a hard corner between the hall access and the ridging of the roof itself.

Kneeling, she dug the snow out and shoved it until she revealed a closed grate. She counted three bricks up and then pressed on it. It wiggled a little and she shifted to pull out a knife.

“Let me,” he said, then leaned in and pressed two fingers.

“Gently, it used to be loose.”

Forty years before it might have been, but this time—someone had—wait, there it went. He pushed the brick in and it jostled and then he pulled it out. The one next to it came easier, then the third and fourth until it revealed a small hole, he stretched his arm inside and felt around. When his fingers snagged on a strap, he gripped it.

Natalia stared at him as he pulled the bag out. Even in the gray light of the storm, hope seemed to flare in her eyes but when he lifted the tote out disappointment flickered.

“That’s not our bag.”

“You’re sure?” It didn’t feel heavy enough to be a go bag, but he opened it any way. Within was a weatherproof pouch, sealed shut. Natalia’s expression shifted. She recognized the pouch. Had she stored cash in her go bag? If so, someone may have helped themselves and put these items back. A thoughtful thief. Inside was a small box along with an old paperback. The book—_Stranger in a Strange Land_ looked familiar. He’d read this a long time before. In the box was a collection of—Bucky stared at the sealed comics.

Captain America comics, all of which had Bucky Barnes on the covers—a really shitty version of him in some stupid unitard. He stared at the comics and then the book and then Natalia.

She’d pulled her goggles off and pressed two fingers to her neoprene mask.

“You saved comics about me?”

Those wide green eyes lifted to meet his and there was a torrent of emotion in them. “The book is yours, zvezda moya—read the first page.”

He tucked the comics under his arm then flipped open the first page, it was getting harder even against the building to keep the snow off it.

On the title page was a note.

_James Buchanan Barnes is alive. Someone should know. He is a stranger in a strange land, but he belongs here. Someday I will bring him home._

He’d know Natalia’s clipped penmanship anywhere. All these years, stuck inside the wall. Why just these two items? Had she left them because she didn’t dare take them with her? The faint dilation of her pupils had him snapping the book shut and he gripped her shoulder gently.

“Natalia, focus on me, not the book. Me.”

Her gaze jerked up. “I left this here.”

“You did. We have them.” He closed the box of comics, then opened his coat and shoved the book in an inner pocket and the box against his chest before zipping his jacket closed. “Stay focused on me lyubov moya.”

“I am…I’m not…” She glanced at the other roof. It took him a couple of minutes to put the bricks back into place, before he held out his hand to her. “James I want to go and see if I can go into that apartment.”

“Kotyonok—it’s been forty years…”

“That was there,” she argued. “What if they have more inside?”

“Would you have left anything where someone might have found it when they cleaned the apartment?”

Mutiny flared in those eyes.

“Were the floors carpeted or wooden?” If anything she could have pried up floorboards. He’d done that in enough places.

“Wooden.” It wasn’t a far jump, they could open a door and let themselves in—but it was the middle of a blizzard and if there were people inside…?

“We go down and ring the bell.”

That decided her. When he offered, she clasped his hand. He guided her back to the fire escape. He descended first, keeping his attention on her as she followed him. He jumped the last few feet. When he beckoned she dropped and he caught her. Holding her aloft a moment, he was glad the neoprene made pressing a fierce kiss to her a challenge. She put her snowshoes back on while he lashed his into place before he shoved the ladder back up.

They circled back to the front and Bucky studied the doors, there were steps leading down to a basement door, there had to be three feet of snow drift down there, the steps leading to the front door were much better, but he took the time to kick the snow off each step as he climbed.

Ringing the bell, he considered what they could say. The snowmobile had picked up some snow around it. But even at the rate it was falling, they should have some time.

The curtain on the window next to the door was pulled back and an old—fuck Bucky was probably older than this guy—man stared at them, his eyes narrowed. “You folks lost?” He called through the door but he didn’t open it.

Natalia ripped the neoprene off her face and pushed back the hood. “No—I used to live in this building. Fifth floor.”

He stared at her. “You do realize it’s snowing, lady.”

“Yes, we noticed. I wouldn’t bother but—is there anyway we can just look at that apartment?”

The man stared at her like she’d grown a second head and he still hadn’t opened the door. He turned to answer someone else and then there was a woman, middle age with the first silver strands threading through her dark hair, staring out at them, her curiosity gave way to shock and then the door was unbolted an open.

“Come in, please—don’t mind Jerry he doesn’t know a damn thing.”

“I heard that!” The man bellowed, but he’d retreated to one of the apartments. Bucky followed Natalia inside and they were both dusting off trying to leave as much snow outside as they could.

“I’m Marian—” The name gave Bucky a jolt, but he stripped off his goggles and scanned the woman. The features were wrong and her eyes were brown. Mary Elizabeth had greener eyes. “—Hammond, I manage this building. You’re Natasha Romanoff.”

Hood back, Natalia peeled the knit cap off her head and nodded slowly. “Thank you for letting us in.”

“You used to live in this building?”

“It was a long time ago,” Natalia told her. “A lifetime ago. I stayed here for a short while—fifth floor, 5A.”

“You should remind them it’s damn cold outside, Marian,” the older man called. His tone crotchetier than before if possible.

“They know, Jerry. Go back to your game shows.” Then Marian swept a look from Natalia to Bucky. He’d removed his neoprene mask but she didn’t seem to place him. “That’s Janos apartment—he’s out of town. He travels a lot.”

“I just want to step inside… I won’t touch anything. Do you think it would be a terrible imposition?”

“Ma’am, forgive me, but people don’t take a stroll in a blizzard to just check out an apartment that ain’t even for rent. This is about your mother isn’t it?”

Natalia blinked. “My mother?”

“Yeah, red-headed lady, looked a lot like you—she lived up there when I was a kid. My grandmother was real fond of her. Her and her baby.”

Deathly stillness crept over Natalia.

“They were here for about three months or thereabouts. Can’t believe that the Black Widow’s mother lived here.” The woman shook her head.“Not to mention your skin care regimen.” 

“Three months? You remember her that well?” If something sounded too good to be true, then it probably was. Natalia’s reaction worried him, but this woman’s solicitousness and awareness put him on edge.

“Not hard, I’ve been looking at a face like hers for years…look, come in for a sec and at least warm up. I’ll see if I can reach Janos for permission.” She led them to the stairs heading down to the basement.

“Marian, you shouldn’t be bringing strangers down there,” Jerry yelled.

“They’re friends of the family, Jerry. Bundle up and close your door.”

“Well, why didn’t they say so?” The old man groused then a door slammed shut. Bucky frowned then held an arm out to keep Natalia from immediately following _Marian_.

Natalia shot him a questioning look, then relented. She was still reeling from Marian’s awkward bombshell. Bucky would take point. They descended the steps to find the door to Marian’s apartment standing open.

She was in the middle of her cozy living room—and by cozy, he meant packed floor to ceiling with books on every available shelf space. She had a sofa and an old comfortable chair where it looked like she spent most of her time. A basket of knitting sat there with a blanket or something on the needles as though they’d been set aside.

The place smelled a bit like lemon polish, dust, onions, and the barest hint of vanilla along with the familiar scent of fresh coffee. A steaming cup of coffee waiting on the side table and the television was on, paused in the middle of some movie.

“Here,” Marian said, motioning to something on one of the shelves. Natalia moved to her slowly and then stared.

Bucky’s heart bottomed out. Natalia sat in the middle of the photograph, her head tilted up as light from a window shone over her and standing in front of her as though caught mid-twirl with her back to the camera was Mary Elizabeth. The glare left Natalia’s face in some shadows. It wasn’t distinct, but Bucky would have recognized her anywhere.

Someone had taken that picture when Natalia wasn’t aware; her whole attention was focused on their daughter.

“Gran took this two days before your mother disappeared…”

Pain struck him.

“She didn’t even realize she had that shot until she got the film developed a few weeks later. Mom said she was beside herself for days.” Marian folded her arms and glanced at Natalia. “You look just like her. Now that I’m standing here—a lot like her.”

“Disappeared?” Bucky prompted because Natalia stared at the photo.

Marian lifted the photo off the wall and handed it to her. “You can take it if you like. Gran passed away a few years ago—but I hadn’t the heart to get rid of it.” Then moving away from them she went to a crowded desk in the corner. “Your mom disappeared around the time of the Brooklyn Heights strangler was active—terrible bit of luck, though worse because Gran didn’t know what happened to her daughter, I guess you. She didn't know what happened to you.”

Natalia turned slowly, the photograph in her hands as Marian went over to the desk. If the woman was fishing, Natalia didn't offer her a cover or anything to fill in the blanks.

“The strangler struck every few weeks between 1968 and 1973—always took women, always about eighteen to twenty-five. He would pick a girl off the street every eight to ten weeks, took a while to realize what he was doing, because the bodies didn’t turn up right away.” She was going through items on her desk. Then shifted a stack of papers to pull out a scrapbook. “Really nasty business, he kept the girls, tortured them for a while, then killed them. Then he’d go out and get more.

“From what investigators put together he was responsible for the known deaths of twelve of these women.” She flipped the book open and there were images of girls—all young women as she’d described. Different facial features and different hair colors. “Tracking his victims was a challenge because he didn’t seem to have a particular type, just age range. When your mother disappeared, Gran had nightmares for weeks thinking he got her. She reported her missing to the police, they investigated…but nothing came of it.”

Marian gave them both an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling on about this—it’s just—I realize she was your mother. Theoretically, she was the last victim.”

“Why do you know so much about this?” Bucky asked.

“Started as morbid curiosity—Gran couldn’t let go what happened to Mrs. Rogers, especially since she had that little girl. Police never turned anything up either. But there were at least fifteen other potential victims that were never found. Gran kept this photo here and I always saw it and—I read a lot. Do a lot of research. Decided I’d write a book about him. Then I decided I wanted to focus on his victims, not on him. Not that we ever knew who he was—kind of like our very own Jack the Ripper, a lot of theories but no real truth.”

Natalia glanced from the photo to Bucky.

If this strangler went after her, Bucky knew exactly what happened to him.

“Now I’ve gone and creeped you out,” Marian sighed.

“It’s fine,” Natalia told her. “Truly and this—photo is beautiful.”

“Would you like some coffee?”

“We can’t stay,” Bucky said abruptly. “You were going to call the resident?”

“You know—I have a key. Let’s just sneak up there real quick. You’re an Avenger, I trust you.”

Natalia frowned. “Some people say I’m a criminal.”

“Well, I don’t listen to those fools on the news. I was born and bred in Brooklyn, you saved our city more than once. Good enough for me.” Her tone said that was the end of that discussion. “Let’s show you that apartment and get you on your way before it gets any crazier out there…”

She led the way up the steps and Natalia let Bucky go first, a fact for which he was profoundly grateful. On the fifth floor, Natalia’s hand lingered on the stair railing.

Marian got the door open and then peeked inside. “Janos?” She glanced at them. “Probably better to check—no, the only light on is that one in the living room. He leaves that on when he goes.” Opening the door wider, she let them in.

Two rooms described the apartment. Unlike Marian’s cluttered space, Janos lived light. He had a futon that likely pulled out into a bed, a chair, a television, a dining table he apparently doubled as a desk, a tidy, but narrow kitchen area and a basically empty second room save for clothes hung in the closet and the full bed.

It smelled a bit musty, but not dirty. Bucky checked the windows. They looked right down on the street where Natalia had pointed up here. She walked around the space slowly.

“There used to be a fold out bed in the wall.”

“Oh, you’re right,” Marian said with a small sigh and thankfully she didn't ask how a baby could remember that. “Renovations in the 80s. Changed out the floors in here too…cost a small fortune but worth it.”

With their audience, it was problematic, but Bucky kept an eye on Natalia. It had been decades, but being back in a familiar setting could trigger her. Though, Marian said she was here for three months, maybe less. The renovations meant even if she’d hidden something under the floor boards, it was likely gone now.

Finally, Natalia came to stand in the middle of the room and blew out a breath. “Thank you, Marian.”

“Sure thing, did you find what you were looking for?”

No. But they found out more. Not that he shared either of those with her. Natalia told her something vague and noncommittal. Bucky examined the space again. He could see his girls here, though he wondered how barren it had been for them.

Natalia made nice with Marian and even signed something for her. When Marian offered her number, Natalia accepted then gave her an email address. Said if she ever needed anything to let her know.

The woman was loath to send them back out into the storm, but Bucky wanted Natalia away from here. They’d done well so far, but this had been—a gamble. He didn’t want to push his luck.

Outside, they made their way back to the snowmobile, he swept it off then went over it before he pulled out a thermos of coffee and handed it to her. She drank down hers, and then he his before they covered up their faces and slid their goggles on. The photo was stored inside her jacket, while he had the books and comics inside his.

Glancing back at her as she settled onto the snowmobile behind him he said, “Did you want to drive going back?”

“No,” she murmured. “You can. I think—I need to think.”

He studied her. “Was I wrong to bring you here?”

Those eyes sharpened as she lifted her head. The snow falling seemed to frame her as she shook her head slowly. “Thank you, James.”

“The Tower?”

“Anywhere you want to go,” she told him.

“Well, I’m thinking the island sounds good, might take a bit to get there on this thing.”

“Sun, surf and me in a bikini?”

“Or out of it,” he said with a grin. “I’m not fussy.”

“Do you I think I killed him?”

“The strangler?” Not that he needed to clarify, but he asked anyway. At her nod, he said, “I wouldn’t be remotely surprised nor would I lose a night of sleep over it.”

“Okay.” Chin lifting, she eyed him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming here—I don’t know if it helped… but there’s something strangely comforting in realizing what I remember is real.”

“I know,” he whispered. It was why he’d had to go to Montana. He’d had to find their cabin. He’d had to know. The mind played tricks way too easily. It was also why he wanted to take her there. Maybe, just maybe, recapture those moments and only those. Give her back those years without the pain and misery of the others in their past.

The engine purred to life and she curled against his back, her thighs against his hips and her face pressed against his coat as she spread her hands over his abdomen.

Had any of this been worth it?

Pressing his hand to hers once, he said, “Hold on.”

Then he accelerated. They skimmed over the snow with only the faintest of jolts to get out the snow drifting against the blades. He angled them back toward the bridge and Manhattan. Christmas trees gleamed in some of the windows they passed. Other homes had signs that said _Santa stop here_ and some boasted a menorah in their windows.

Life went on.

Theirs.

His.

Hers.

_Now ours._

His phone buzzed in his pocket not long after they got off the bridge, he slowed and found a spot to pull over. What few people they’d seen earlier seemed completely absent now, just the occasional plow. Even the police seemed to have gone to find shelter.

Natalia glanced at him as he pulled out his phone.

**Tony: ** _Friday said you’ve stopped in Brooklyn a while. All good?_

**Tony: ** _You’re moving again. Storm’s predicted to get worse. Let us know if you need a pick up._

**Steve: ** _Storm’s getting worse. Power outages are being reported. We’re delivering generators to area hospitals. Send word if you need a pickup._

**Clint: ** _Steve told me you and Nat are hunkering down for a bit. Laura still wants to see her, think she’ll be up for the Compound? I know they’d love to see all of you and you wanted to talk. _

He glanced at her and held out his phone so she could read. “Up to you, Doll.”

“Maybe for dinner,” she said. “Not right now—can it just be you and me, right now?”

“Yes, it can,” he said, sending acknowledgments, then shutting the screen off and putting it back in his pocket. It took another thirty minutes to get through most of Midtown and another ten to swing into Columbus Circle. If the storm was going to get worse—it was going to be a mess.

The sooner he got her back inside, the better.

~~~

A quick shower and a change of clothes later had helped erase some of the chill from his bones. The snowmobile had been a fun ride. Friday informed them on arrival that Tony, Steve, and Peter were still out delivering generators and additional power cells. Also, the storm in the city had reached the Compound, but everyone was fine. However Lila Barton had sent a private message to her Auntie Nat.

Natalia said she would listen after she warmed up. Despite being bundled, her cheeks were pink from the cold and her lips bitten and a little chapped. He fixed her a pot of tea and debated adding vodka to it as he had the night before. Instead, he put the vodka bottle and a couple of glasses on the tray along with the teapot, mugs and then put together some sandwiches.

Carrying all of it to her room, he knocked lightly and waited for her call to come in before he nudged the door wide. Natalia wasn’t in the bedroom.

“I decided to take a bath,” she said. The faint bubbling from the jets was audible.

Tray balanced, he nudged open the door to the bathroom. Natalia leaned against the side of the tub, her arms folded and her chin on them as the rest of her floated with the water. She’d pinned her hair up and the bathroom was warm, Friday had likely turned up the heat.

“Well I brought you tea,” he told her unnecessarily and she grinned.

“And vodka.”

“It does warm a body up.” He set the tray down on the ledge next to the bathtub. Their recovered treasures he’d left in the living room for now. Dragging a chair from the vanity over, he poured her tea and watched with approval as she reached for one of the sandwiches as she sat up. The water glided over her skin and she was pink and flushed everywhere.

“I’m pretty warm,” she admitted, absolutely unabashed but then her own nudity had never meant much to her and he was content to just enjoy the air of relaxation she currently boasted.

“Good,” he said, then nodded to the vodka. “In the tea or on its own?”

“Hmm… in the tea.”

With a nod, he added a measure then offered her the mug.

“Do you want to join me?” She glanced at the bathtub.

“Yes, but you’re not ready for that yet.” Always pushing his Natalia, always pushing to overcome that which set her back.

She made a face, but didn’t argue.

“Do you want to talk about it?” It was just barely afternoon, despite the trip, they hadn’t been gone as long as it felt.

“I don’t know what I feel at the moment. That memory is so new and to see it so different when it feels like yesterday.”

That was another problem. One he recognized and had shared when those first memories swamped him. The time elapsed faded away making decades ago seem like days. “You chose a good spot for yourselves, close enough to get to Manhattan, far enough away to disappear amongst the locals.” Hiding in plain sight.

It did a funny thing to his heart when she’d mentioned going to Brooklyn in the nineties to be out of sight for a while. It was where she learned to make pizza. The accents, she’d told him, brought her comfort. It was easy to assume that was because of him, not that she’d offered any other explanation. But maybe it was also because that was where she’d been with Mary Elizabeth.

Natalia nudged the second sandwich and eyed him. He poured himself some tea and then picked up the sandwich and made a face. Her sudden smile was worth it. “Would you like me to bake today?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’ll never say no, Doll. But you don’t have to.”

“I know…but it’s relaxing. I thought about going to dance after the bath, but then I was thinking about the pirozhkis and the hot apple stuffed croissants.”

His stomach let out a grumbling growl and Natalia’s expression transformed to pleased. “Again, not saying no.”

“Then maybe we could dance some more while it baked?”

“Doll,” he sighed. “Why are you pushing yourself so hard?”

“Because I miss you,” she said. “I won’t be controlled by anyone, not even this stupid physiological reaction.”

“You’re not being controlled by it,” he argued but she wrinkled her nose. Frowning, he reached out with his left hand and tucked a finger under her chin to lift her gaze. It was the barest of touches, but he held his hand steady as she looked at him. Her pupils constricted and her breathing turned a little sharper and shallower. “Natalia, lyubov moya, you will be good to yourself or so help me…”

“Going to spank me zvezda moya?” The tease in her words sent a bolt of lust right through him, but he locked it down. She wanted to play with fire, to provoke reactions in both of them and force herself to step beyond what her body and mind demanded.

“Only if you ask me nicely,” he dared.

Instead of being annoyed, she merely raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t have to ask that one night.”

No, she hadn’t. The feel of her under his hands and how beautifully she’d just surrendered everything to him? No, she hadn’t. “If I drag you out of that bath and pin you to the bed and eat you out until you can’t see straight, will that help?”

Her pupils dilated and she shifted, but her breathing—no, her breathing she continued to force but couldn’t get it deeper than those sharp, short breaths. The longer he kept his finger there, metal or not, the more she reacted to the contact.

“James…”

“I’m here,” he promised. “I’m not going anywhere. Stop forcing yourself. I hate that.” No sooner did the words leave him than the truth of it struck and rather than waiting for her to finally pull away, he let his hand fall from her face. “Natalia, I have hated every minute of every moment you have had to force yourself to endure a touch you did not want. Please don’t make me watch you do it with me.”

Her expression fell and she leaned away from the edge. “I’m sorry…”

“No, you do not have to apologize.” Never to him. “You don’t know what that was like for me. I suppressed it as ruthlessly as I could, but when those marks were mine to deal with after, I took no small amount of pleasure in erasing them.” Maybe that should bring some shame or even remorse, but he didn’t have it in him. Too often those men abused her atop everything else and she had to let them because it was the mission.

Knowing she was more than capable of killing them at any time and yet she endured the blows had always added an edge to his frustration. Though she had far more unsavory assignments…

“Don’t think about them,” Natalia told him, pulling him to the present.

“That is easier said than…”

“No, James. That’s not what I meant. The marks, they were never people—they could never _touch_ me. Not…not the way you’re thinking.”

This was not a subject they needed to wade into and yet he’d been the one to bring it up. “I know you took no pleasure in it.”

Natalia laughed, actually laughed. The rich, husky sound of it held true humor. “Not even a little,” she told him. Sandwich finished, she drank down the tea, then moved back to the edge, arms crossed so she could float and rest her chin on her arms. “You and I have never talked about this part before, have we?”

“No.” He didn’t want to talk about it now.

“Do you want to understand it better?”

Not particularly. “Is there something I’m not understanding?”

“James…I may not remember us—not the way you do. I may not remember that first kiss or the first time you and I…”

“It was in a corner of your dance studio,” he told her abruptly and she raised her eyebrows. Heat flushed his cheeks. “You had been dancing for an hour and this was not long after you’d stood naked under that shower and invited me to join you. You finished your last movement and reached for a towel. There was—something in your eyes when you looked at me—a defiance. And you said, ‘Tomorrow, I am to go to the Kremlin to deal with a minister who has been asking too many questions. There will be no dance for you tomorrow.’”

James shook his head; she’d been prepared for something. Looking back, he thought she might have wanted him to intervene and forbid her going. While he exerted tremendous power since she’d been assigned to train with him, he needed solid reasons to contravene Madame. It would be some time before their successes gave him the latitude he needed.

“’You will do well,’ I told you. I would expect nothing less. Then you rolled your eyes at me and called me a useless bear. The words weren’t an insult, but the tone?” Suddenly, he chuckled. “You flicked your fingers at me, like warding away a bad spirit and then turned your back. I didn’t get it. The Soldier had done nothing wrong. You were more than ready for a mission, even with security, you would have no trouble. It would have been an insult for me to presume otherwise.”

Natalia stared up at him, teeth worrying at her lower lip but her expression intrigued. “You’re right,” she assured him. “I would not have liked you to doubt my skills—to be honest…”

“Yes, I know,” he said drily. “You still don’t care for it. I’m protective. Deal with it.”

She snorted. “Anyway—I turned my back on you...”

He drained his tea and then motioned to the mugs to see if she wanted more. When she shook her head, he uncapped the vodka. “I was… disgruntled with the idea you were angry with me when I didn’t know what I’d done.”

“I’m sensing a trend…James…I didn’t manipulate you, did I? Using your emotions against you?” Genuine disgust filled her eyes and he shook his head swiftly.

“No, Natalia. I watched you manipulate others enough to know you didn’t. If anything, you were more careless with me, but only when we were alone. When you could be yourself.”

She closed her eyes and blew out a breath. “That—I don’t get angry, it benefits no one and it compromises cognitive reasoning.”

“It also betrays emotional attachment, since the Soldier had the emotional depth of a teaspoon, he didn’t understand what that meant.”

“James!” She sat up.

“What?” He shrugged. “It’s true. I was—a babe in the woods, a machine, that kept faltering because I didn’t understand my feelings where you were concerned, much less how to communicate them.”

“Yet you managed to captivate the deadliest woman in Russia and held her interest for decades. I do believe that requires more emotional depth than a teaspoon.”

“I didn’t say we were blind,” he retorted. “I certainly brought the fact I could beat you in a fight into the mix. You always were challenged by what you could not control. Even if you had me in your fist from the beginning.”

She snorted. “Get on with it, Barnes…you’re delaying the good stuff.”

The playfulness alone would have urged him to continue, but the fact all trace of the earlier tension in her eyes had faded had him leaning forward as he filled both glasses.

Handing her one, he held up his, “You walked away and I crossed the floor, I was moving before I even realized what I intended. I grasped your shoulder, you caught my wrist. Then you used my own momentum and flipped me, but I pulled you down and we grappled. Then I had you pinned…” The memory turned over in his mind, he could see it as if it were happening right now. “You stared up at me, eyebrows raised and said, ‘Well, Soldat?’”

Natalia raised her brows, straightening a little as she waited. “You kissed me?”

“I kissed you. Though arguably, you could have kissed me. But we kissed and it was—hot and angry and twisted me up in a way I had never experienced before. You turned the Soldier inside out.” He chuckled and tapped his glass to hers. “I was yours, had been, but I didn’t understand it. But after that…”

“You didn’t want me to go.”

“No,” he said before he tossed back the full measure of the vodka. It was warm as it slid through his system. But Natalia was right, it took far more than that to really dull anything. “I did not. The next three days were hell.”

She bit back a smile. “Were you waiting for me when I returned?”

“Yes,” he almost growled the words. “You just sauntered in like you hadn’t been gone at all. We had a debriefing and you spent all of it barely noticing I was there. Granted, I had to pretend the same but it was hours before we found a moment alone and you know what you did…”

Natalia laughed. “Teased you with something like—if you really missed me Soldat, you’d prove it to me.”

“Nearly word for word,” he told her, despite his dry tone he couldn’t suppress the thrill. Natalia had played with him, inviting him to play with her in return. She’d teased him, laughed at him, and eventually—she’d taught him to do the same. Their time alone was something he treasured.

Still did.

“I’m glad we had each other,” she said. “Those memories are the ones I want back.” When he would have said something, she reached out of the bath and touched his fingers. “James, I know it wasn’t all pretty. I haven’t forgotten everything… But I’ll take that pain if it means I get you and Mary Elizabeth back. You understand that, right?”

“I hate seeing you hurt.”

“Well, I can fake it better than most. Are you telling me I need to brush up on my acting skills?” It was a joke, a lightness, and he understood it but he shook his head regardless.

“Never, Natalia. Never pretend with me. Even if I don’t like it. Even if we fight. You never have to be anyone else with me…”

She reached over and shut off the jets and the agitated water began to calm before it began to drain. “Get me a towel?”

He set his glass and hers on the tray and rose. The oversized bath sheets were perfect to wrap her up in. When she stepped out of the tub, the water skated over her skin. There were new scars, mostly faded. They would be gone to nothing soon. Even the place where she’d been stabbed had faded to almost nothing—but he could still see it in his memories where the blade had gone in.

“I’m here, James,” she murmured, dragging his gaze up and he held out the towel as she stepped out of the tub then wrapped it around her. When he would have backed off, she leaned against him for a beat longer. “Thank you for telling me that I had to be a brat to get that first kiss.”

He frowned, then laughter worked its way through him. “I will never know what you saw in me, lyubov moya, in that shadow of a man who adored you, but I will always be grateful for it.”

“Hmm, I have an idea,” she murmured, straightening and then rubbing the towel along her arms and sides, the roughness over her skin making him frown, but he waited her out. When she reached for the lotion, he took the towel and then she ran that down her arms, along her legs and the over her abdomen.

“Are you going to tell me?” he asked finally, when she didn’t continue.

“When I remember it exactly? When I find out that I’m right? Yes,” she promised. “I will. Now—before I bake, can we get the blanket and cuddle for a little while?”

“Stay there,” he told her, scooping up the tray and leaving the bathroom. He set it in the kitchen, checked his phone. No new messages, so he left it then snagged the blanket from the living room. In the bedroom, he opened the bathroom door before holding the blanket wide. She stepped right into it and he wrapped her up tight.

He’d been skeptical about binding her arms, but Steve showed him the passages where it suggested this as a method. The pressure activated the parasympathetic nervous system. It allowed them to increase intimacy and reinforced a self-soothing response that decreased stress by lowering blood pressure, heart rate, and cortisol concentrations.

That it worked was all he really cared about and he loved bundling her up and then cradling her. Did he miss skin on skin? Yes, but they’d get there.

Moving over to the bed, he settled against the headboard stretched out his legs while he kept her close.

“James, if we contact Wakanda—and Shuri wants to put me in cryo to do—whatever they do…”

He stiffened at the words.

“And that answers that question.”

“Natalia,” he chided.

“I’m not a fan of the idea, James, but if they do it—I don’t want you or Steve there for that.”

He frowned. “We’re not going to just abandon you to it.”

Tipping her head back, she stared at him. “I have no idea what they’re going to do. But you volunteered to go back into cryosleep and that tore Steve apart.” While his best friend had tried to hide it, she wasn’t wrong. But it was safer for everyone if he was out of the equation for a while. “I won’t make him see that with me and you…”

“I can handle it, Natalia.”

“You don’t have to, that’s what I’m telling you.”

“We will deal with it if it becomes an issue, all right?”

Tucking her head back to his shoulder, she nodded. “I just need to try…”

“And control what you can control.” He got it.

“If it was just me…”

“I know. Natalia.” He did. Steve would lose his mind if she went into cryo and he didn’t doubt that Tony would probably be a step behind him. There was no way they could tell Peter and likely she’d want to keep it from the rest of the team rather than worrying them.

Clint though. Clint would be there and Bucky had zero intention of walking away to leave her alone.

Though, he wasn’t sure how he could stomach the cold sweeping over her or putting her that frozen sleep. Shuri was a clever girl and Wakanda was like something out of one of his sci-fi novels.

They would have a better plan.

Natalia wasn’t a threat to anyone around her…

Maybe he would call Shuri and check in with her and ask some questions himself. If cryo was where this was going, he wasn’t so sure about Wakanda.

~~~

A couple of hours later with the first trays of pirozhkis in the oven filling the floor with their rich scent and fresh coffee in hand, he joined Natalia staring at the items he’d moved from the living room to the kitchen. The comic books seemed self-explanatory, they were older—she’d looked them up. They dated to a resurgence of Captain America fever in the sixties. Somehow, Bucky Barnes went from being his contemporary to a younger, teenage best friend who wore unitards.

It was a little embarrassing.

The minute Stevie saw these; he was going to laugh his ass off. God help him if Tony did. Or—Sam. No, he’d have to kill Sam. Maybe that would be the safest option. Natalia hadn’t laughed or teased, she’d merely laid them out side by side. Studying them like they were puzzle pieces.

The Heinlein book felt familiar in his hands. Had he picked it up while they were in Montana? He remembered the story, he’d read it but it hadn’t jumped out at him on when or why should have had it. It was entirely possible she bought it herself. His passion for science fiction had always amused her.

“I used to read to you,” he said abruptly and she glanced over at him. “At the cabin, when you were still pregnant and miserable…you loved being pregnant but you hated how ungainly it made you feel and you were always worrying.” The worrying made him mad, he’d wanted to do anything to soothe her. “We’d listen to the radio, the music was nice and sometimes we’d listen to the news. But otherwise it was just us—on my sojourns to town, I’d bring back books for you and for me. When you’d read all of yours, you reached for one of mine, but I offered to read it to you…”

“That sounds nice,” she told him, tracing her fingers over the cover of one of the comics.

“It was.” As he paged through the book, he made note of the rifling on the pages, the yellowed edges, the occasional dog ear—he stopped on each of those and skimmed the words.

About halfway through… he found a notation and stared at it. “Natalia…”

She leaned over. _Howard Stark_ followed by a phone number, then below it a time.

“Well, we already knew I was looking for him.”

Bucky nodded. But after finding that notation, he checked each page. There were more, some written in very small print right up against where the paged folded into the spine.

Dates.

Locations.

Some were written in a code, not one he recognized. “This is the name of a bar in Queens.” She tapped it. Then pulled up her phone and entered the name of the bar and the location.

He sighed.

Closed in 1981, torn down.

The phone hit the table with a thump and she passed the book back to him.

“Natalia…”

“It’s a damn puzzle, without any clues I can follow-up. The comic books have to mean something, but I don’t know what.”

“Maybe you wrote in them, too.” He unsealed one of the plastic sleeves, and tugged the comic out. Inside was a story about how toward the end of the war, Captain America and his plucky companion—plucky companion who wrote this drivel—tried to defuse a bomb on a drone aircraft, but the plane exploded over the North Atlantic. At the end, the last panel showed Steve face down in the water drifting towards ice and Bucky was nowhere to be found.

The next leapt forward years—to the sixties—the great search for Captain America finally bore fruit. He read issue after issue, they detailed Cap trying to adjust to this “modern” world. Bucky snorted. The sixties would have been easier to digest than 2011. But every single comic, no matter who Steve fought—the Hunchback of Hollywood, the Black Toad, Ivan the Terrible and the Red Skull—ended with his continuing hunt to find his best friend. To find Bucky Barnes.

That was why Natalia had bought these comics, maybe even why she kept them.

“You wanted to remember me,” he whispered.

She turned from where she was putting the croissants in the oven. “What?”

“These…the book, the letter to yourself, the comics—the search for Bucky Barnes, Natalia you knew you were going to have to forget. You knew if you were brought in, they would put you in the chair. You wanted to leave a mark that I’d been there, somewhere.”

It was the simplest answer and the most poignant. They weren’t clues about where Mary Elizabeth had gone—maybe the meetings and the times—but the rest. The rest were items to mark their past.

Flattening his hands on the table, he blew out a breath.

She’d fought to hold on to them.

“I’m glad we found them, then.” She exhaled, but the hint of disappointment lingered in her voice. “Though…if I promise to wear the Princess Leia gold bikini, what are my chances of getting you into that unitard?”

He turned slowly and stared at her. The smirk on her face was worth any amount of teasing and at the same time… “You really do want to see if I’ll spank you.”

“You really want to see me in that gold bikini.”

“Or out of it, again, Natalia, I’m not a difficult man to please.”

She laughed, even with tears gleaming in her eyes, she smiled. “But I would still enjoy the unitard.”

“You want that, get Stevie to put his back on, I’d like to keep some of my dignity.”

Her giggle was worth it though.

When all the baking was done and they’d put up the items they found, leaving only the photo of Natalia with Mary Elizabeth to sit on the shelf next to the one Logan had brought them, she listened to the message from Lila.

_“Okay do I talk like this is a voicemail or an email?”_

_“Like a voicemail, Miss Barton,” Friday told her. “I am recording and will deliver it in full to Natasha.”_

_“Great. Okay, here goes. Hi Auntie Nat, Daddy says you don’t feel good and may need a couple of days to feel better. But you told me once my hugs could fix anything, so maybe you could come out here for me to hug you? Then you can be better and we can play. I miss you lots and lots. So do Coop and Nate, just not as much as me. Um… oh and bring Uncle Steve and Uncle Bucky and Uncle Tony, too. I think—yea I think that’s all. Love you, Auntie Nat hope I see you soon.”_

Natalia glanced at him and he sighed. “We’re going to the Compound aren’t we?”

“For dinner,” she murmured. They still had a few more hours. “Would you mind terribly?”

“I only mind if you push yourself too hard. You said yourself you didn’t want to flinch around the kids.”

She pushed up off the sofa and walked over to where he sat in the chair, then slid her knees onto either side of his thighs, half-straddling his lap.

“Natalia…”

“Ah,” she said, holding up a finger. “Just give me a hug.”

Then she wrapped her arms around him and he returned it. Her heartbeat held steady for the first ten seconds, then it began to escalate. With care, he loosened his grip and she eased back.

Frowning he studied her as she straightened. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Good. Now stop punishing yourself.”

With a dramatic sigh, she turned and fell on the sofa. Lying there, she stared at him. He couldn’t hold his scowl as her eyes grew lighter and lighter. No panic attack, no sudden sharp breaths. Yes, her heart had started to pound, but she’d let go and backed off.

“I can handle a few hugs. I promise, if it gets to be too much we’ll slip away to my room there.”

Folding his arms, he eyed her. “You really promise? You’ll not push it like you did with Spider-Punk last night?”

“I promise,” she whispered. “But maybe we take the blanket with us for some safety cuddling as needed.”

Finding it impossible to tell her no, he pointed at the TV. “We have time, shall we watch a movie?”

She grinned. “What do you want to watch?”

“Pick something for you this time. I want to know what you like…”

“Hmm…Friday do we have _Kate and Leopold?_”

“We do Natasha. Would you like me to queue it up for you?”

She glanced at Bucky and raised her eyebrows. “Time-traveling rom com.”

“Why not, you want popcorn?”

“Nope. I’m thinking we have all the apple croissants.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, pushing out of the chair. “I like how you think. I’ll grab them.”

He carried a cooled tray over and they sat on the floor in front of the sofa, eating off the coffee table as the movie started. Her shoulder brushed his, but she didn’t pull away or flinch.

When Steve texted him to check in, he sent back _She’s good, you’re right. We needed this. Wants to go to Compound tonight._

He'd texted him earlier about the photo they'd found in Brooklyn and the book, though he'd left out the comics. 

**Steve: ** _Six sound good?_

_Works for me. _

He glanced at Natalia and held up his phone. “Natalia…smile.” She turned to look at him, an apple croissant in her hand, a little bit stuck to her lip as she grinned and he snapped the picture.

Leaning over, she watched him hit send and then saw who it was too and laughed. Bumping his shoulder, she murmured, “Mean.”

**Steve:** _Save me some croissants. _

A second later a message from Tony lit up his screen.

**Tony: ** _You better save some for those of us out here slaving away._

That made Bucky laugh aloud and Natalia grinned.

Stevie was right—this was good and the movie wasn’t half-bad either.


	18. Tribe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family dinner at the Compound and Natasha has a plan.

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Tribe**

**Natasha**

Guilt that she wasn’t helping with the power outages in the city nagged at her, but then she’d look at James. Throughout the day, he’d… relaxed wasn’t the right word. He’d _settled_. It was like he could breathe a little easier, he didn’t seem quite so on edge. Some of it had required effort on her part, she’d had to unpack then repack away some feelings—especially after standing in that apartment.

It had changed—the bed in the wall was gone and the wooden floors were different but the windows were the same as that stretch of time and if she looked at the photo of Mary that Marian had given them.

Marian.

Even the name had given her a jolt. Natasha didn’t remember the landlady with a lot of clarity, but she had remembered the woman had been missing a grandchild and had given some of her old toys to Mary Elizabeth. That the same grandchild—maybe the same—had been the one to give her back a piece of that past seemed strange.

Life was weird.

Still, by the end of _Kate and Leopold_ she had her head against James’ shoulder and it didn’t freak her out in the slightest. If she had to count something today as a win, that would be it. Steve texted James that they were finally on their way back, hospitals all had power as did shelters and they were coming to get them to go to the Compound.

“I guess I need to put clothes on,” she admitted.

James chuckled. “You can go in your pajamas, no one there is going to care.”

“Except you’ll have to carry me over the snow to make the walk from the landing pad to the building.”

“I have no objections to carrying you wherever you want to go. But get dressed if it makes you happy.”

Twisting, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. At the unexpected move, he blinked at her and she grinned. “I wanted to…”

“Then, by all means, Natalia. Kiss away.” He gave her leg a gentle squeeze as she rose and a shiver raced through her but it wasn’t a shudder. She’d take that as a second win. “I’ll clean this up and pack the rest to take with us.”

“You think we saved them enough?” she called as she changed into warmer things, a turtleneck for one, a light vest over that, heavier leggings, and boots.

“You made eight trays,” he said. “I would find it daunting to eat this many.”

“Yeah but Steve and Peter together…”

“…will likely eat them all, yes, so I’m packing some for the Bartons before the battle for them begins.”

Natasha laughed. The pirozhkis would be split between the Compound and here, based on the boxes James segregated as she pulled on her boots—most were staying here. “You know I can make more…”

“I’m sharing,” he said. “I’m just sharing more with Stevie and I, we eat more.”

“Well so does Peter,” she pointed out. “If you’re going by that logic.”

“Good point,” he pulled two more boxes off to the side and she laughed.

The elevator chimed open, allowing Steve, Tony, and Peter to enter.

“Apple croissants!” Tony declared, his tone almost playful. “We leave you alone for hours and you make croissants? There better be compensation.”

Natasha leaned against the back of the chair and laughed, and then pointed to the trays James _hadn’t_ packed.

“You do love us,” Tony stated, putting both his hands over his heart. “I might almost forgive you for sitting out the frigid work of hauling power cells and working on out of date generators to try and coax them back to life.”

Steve, on the other hand, swept his gaze from her to James then back. The question practically painted across his face. She nodded once. They were fine and then beckoned him with a curl of her fingers. Relief swarmed through his gaze and he swung by and dropped a kiss on her upturned face. It was just to her forehead, but she wasn’t complaining. “It smells great!”

“Good…” she said catching his hand before he moved away. He paused, crouching. “Don’t disappear this evening, okay?”

“I won’t,” he told her, the corners of his mouth curving. His beard was still a little damp, probably from the snow and she stroked her fingers over it before shaking the droplets away.

“Good.” With a squeeze of his fingers, she nodded to the counter. “There are pirozhkis, too, if you guys are hungry. I’m not sure what time dinner is.”

“Seven,” Peter announced. “Clint called us while we were out. He said since you were coming they were aiming for a slightly later dinner so the kids would be a little more worn out. Less likely to bounce on you.”

That gave them a couple of hours. “Then you guys can eat.”

“Yep,” Steve and Peter said in the same tone and Peter paused next to her after Steve moved to help himself. Tony was already pouring coffee and starting another pot. With a glance to where Steve and James were, Peter squatted and studied her.

“Just ask,” she told him. “I am capable of saying no.”

“I know,” he pitched his voice low when he added, “Just wanted to say you looked better.” His ears went a little red. “It kind of sounded better in my head. You didn’t look terrible before.”

Natasha chuckled. “I get it,” she told him, letting him off the hook. “I feel a little better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep, we took a snow day—I’ve never really done that before.”

Peter’s eyes grew huge. “You have to do a snow day. There’s probably enough snow on the roof to build a snowman—oh…” he pivoted in mid-sentence and shot to his feet. “Snow fight in the dark! Much more challenging.”

“Pete,” Tony said as Steve actually looked intrigued and she caught James’ smirk. “Not sure a snowball fight is on the agenda.”

“Well, we should put one on it,” Natasha said, eyeing all of them. “In fact—I want to play.”

She gave it a three count, ticking it off on her hand, one, two…

“Natalia.”

“Hey Red…”

“Angel…”

“That would be cool,” Peter told her, eyes lighting up. “I’m on your team.”

He glanced back to find the other three men in the room almost but not quite glaring at him.

“What happened to taking it easy, Red?” Tony scowled at her.

“I have been. I played in the snow, took a wonderful ride—by the way, Tony the snowmobile…” She did a chef’s kiss against her fingers. “That thing is fun. If you could add a hoverjet to it, it’d be perfect.”

“Hover—like a flying skid?”

She nodded, raising her eyebrows. “You’ve got all the functionality, you’d just need to add the repulsors.”

He frowned, thoughtfully. “I could do that… huh.”

Biting back a smile, she caught James’ dry look. “We’ll see about the snowball fight,” he countered. “I’d prefer daylight conditions and for the blizzard to not be affecting everyone’s senses.”

“How about just no night battles?” Steve countered. “If the point is to foster team spirit and cooperation, we do it tomorrow—rested.”

Natasha glanced at Peter. “Well, you’re my co-captain, what do you say, Spider-Man?”

“Give us time to talk strategy with Wanda and maybe shanghai Clint onto our team.”

“Hey,” Tony glanced up from his coffee. “Why don’t you want me, I won the last four-way match if you’ll remember…”

“Because we want a challenge,” Natasha stated. “You three know me—so you’ve already got an advantage. Not to mention, working together looks good on you three.”

“Then who gets Sam?” James grumbled.

Peter raised his hand. “We’ll take him. Then that means you guys get Colonel Rhodes.”

“I have no problem with Rhodey,” Tony said giving her the stink-eye. “Red is not going to fight fair.”

No, she was not, but all she did was smile.

“But that’s five and four—if we get Clint, do they get Vision?”

Vision would definitely out all of the heavy hitters on their team save for Wanda and Peter. That was fine, she could definitely fight sneakier.

“Not sure he’ll play,” Steve admitted scratching at his beard. “If Sharon’s there, we could get her into play?” He glanced at Natasha. Was she okay with that?

“Absolutely.”

James rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Natasha almost cheered along with Peter, as it was, she clapped her hands. Tony motioned to James and Steve as he said, “We’re going to need a strategy session.”

“Wow,” Peter whispered as he glanced down at her. “They’re really worried about going against you.”

She grinned. “Don’t—it’ll be fun.”

Rising, she walked over and pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, then James’, and finally Tony’s—much to his shock. “What was that for?” He eyed her, suspicion in his eyes. “We’re not even on the field and you’re already going for the spy whammy?”

Innocent, she widened her eyes then lifted her shoulders. “Can’t a girl just say thank you?”

All three said, “No,” at once and her grin widened. After pouring her coffee, she glanced at Peter as she headed back to the table. “Battle rule number one, always look to knock your opponents off-center. If they’re looking one way, you can take advantage by hitting them from another.”

“Dammit,” Tony muttered. “I knew it was spy whammy.”

Peter, for his part, just laughed.

Curiously, she felt—lighter. When she met James’ gaze she saw the same reflected back at her. He gave her a little nod. He got it. Just as Steve said they needed time together earlier, all of them needed this, too.

They needed to play.

Now… she just had to consider all the advantages her team had.

~~~

The buoyed mood held through two cups of coffee, the boys eating, and finally carrying the boxes of food up to load onto the quinjet. Everyone bundled up and the snow continued to come sideways. At last count, they were nearing four feet in rapid falling storm and it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Can the city’s infrastructure keep up with the power demand?” Between heating and lights, it had to be stressing it and this storm wasn’t just hitting the island and all the boroughs, but as far north as the Compound and as far south as New Jersey and west to Pennsylvania. The Avengers weren’t always needed in severe weather, but they had all pitched in. If Thor were there, he might even chase this storm away.

Though thunder snow had some of a good ring to it.

Tony glanced at her as they crossed to the landing pad. “We’ll be fine. The Tower is on its own ARC reactor, and we can pick up the slack if the power stations start to overload.”

“Good,” she told him. “I’m flying,” she announced as she headed for the pilot’s seat. No one argued. The feel of the controls in her hands helped on a visceral level. She ran through the pre-checks, aware that while all four of them were doing their best not to—they kept glancing at her, checking on her, even Peter.

This was one of the reasons why she’d also supported Clint compartmentalizing some of their missions from Laura and his family. They could visit and not have to face those knowing looks or worried frowns.

“Buckle up, it might get bumpy,” she announced before lifting off smoothly.

“As if,” Tony commented. “Friday sent word ahead, dinner will be on the table in twenty minutes whether we are there to eat it or not.” He sounded impressed.

“Laura is prompt.” Laura had also been putting her neck on the line. Nat pocketed that thought and focused on navigating through the city and then beyond. As soon as they were beyond they were clear of the skyscrapers, she accelerated. They touched down exactly twenty minutes after departure.

Peter bounded down the ramp with a whoop.

“God,” Tony said staring after him. “To be fifteen again.”

“No thanks,” Natasha told him. “Fifteen sucked.”

He sighed. “Your fifteen sucked. Mine was not so bad. I mean—it had its rocky moments. Sixteen was better.”

Steve tugged her hat lower over her ears and she grinned at him. “See, there’s a strategy, I’ll make sure my jacket’s not zipped and my hat doesn’t cover my ears tomorrow. You guys are going to lose points just trying to keep me bundled up.”

Ha. That earned her the look and the frown. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

“I do,” she said. “In fact, know that.”

The four of them followed the walk toward the main compound and Tony muttered, “Upgrade, covered and _warmed_ walkway between the landing pads and the buildings.”

“Bad for sightlines,” Natasha reminded him.

“Well, the lack of one is better for frostbite.” He countered. “Especially when our pace is slowing down.”

Surprise pulled her head up, had she? Yes… she had. “I’m fine,” she told them.

“Angel, you don’t have to go in there, the kids will understand.”

“No, they won’t,” she said. “This is about more than just seeing them right now. This is the months since I’d seen them before Geneva, the months I was fugitive. This about their family being splintered and missing their dad. This is about—the fact that family made me part of them and the only way they understand is if they understood what happened and that is never happening.” She didn’t have to stress it, but all three raised hands.

“Doll, we’re not telling them.”

“Of course we wouldn’t, Red. We’re not complete assholes.”

She’d been settling herself deeper and deeper into this role for the last hour. It wasn’t all a lie, in fact, most of it was literally putting her desire to be better up front and burying the rest.

“Then do me a favor?” Hunched against the cold, she kept her arms folded tight across her chest. “Be normal in there—let me pretend to be normal. We’ll do what we always do and don’t worry if you catch my arm or poke me or casually touch. I won’t flinch. I won’t react other than how I _should_.”

“You’re going to use a cover,” Tony said, his dubious tone holding elements of disapproval. “Red…”

“Yes, for the kids. For me and for the kids. It’s just for a couple of hours and then… I’ll stop.” James frowned at her, but he glanced toward the building then back at her. Even though the walkway had been cleared of snow it was already piling up and people had to know they were there. If she had to bet, Clint would be out here any minute. “Fake it until I can make it.” She looked at Steve. He didn’t like the idea anymore than Tony did.

“I don’t like it,” Steve said. “But I get it. Only until the kids go to bed and we can still keep our distance.”

“Kids notice that, Steve. They notice when the adults around them are not getting along. Trust me, Laura and Clint _never_ argue in front of them and they always know when the tension is high. We have to act like we’re just fine—like we did at Thanksgiving. I can handle it.”

“Fuck,” Tony said, shaking his head. “Fine, but you get to dictate the touching. I’m not going to set you off. You don’t deserve that and you’re going to have the kids all over you as it is.”

It would do.

James held out his hand and Steve sighed then motioned them all forward. “Fine, but Nat—you start having even an ounce of issue…”

“I’ll ask to get off the train,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Clasping James’ hand, she let him pull her to him and she brushed some of the hair away from her mouth. “Let’s go before you freeze, Natalia.”

She could do this.

She could do this.

Auntie Nat wasn’t a cover, but right now, she could feel the shape of her awkward as it was settling over her. Auntie Nat spoiled the kids, she sang to them at bedtime, made cookies and brownies and cocoa, she could dance and play video games with them. She was the cool aunt and they never frustrated her or overwhelmed her.

They were probably one of the sweetest most perfect parts of her life.

Sure enough as they closed on the building, the door opened and Clint came out. “What the hell? Did you fools get lost?” His tone was teasing, but she could feel his gaze like a laser.

Releasing James’ hand she strode ahead, hooking her arm through Clint’s. “Nope, just making sure we’re all on the same page.”

“Tasha…” He warned, it was the first step to him yelling at her for overdoing it.

“Nope,” she told him. “We’re doing this my way.” Cajoling Steve, Tony, and James was one thing. Clint wouldn’t play ball just because she asked nicely. So, she wasn’t asking. “You and Laura are trying something new—so you owe me this.”

“I _owe_ you this?” He eyed her as they walked, as aware of the guys behind them as she was.

“Yep, you told Laura what happened to me so now I have to deal with her worry, concern, and likely tears. I have to comfort her because she’s going to be upset and I have to find a way to let her comfort me when the last thing I want to do is talk about last week. So yes, Clinton Francis Barton,” she said, pausing and facing him. “We’re doing this my way.”

He sighed. “Fine. You’re fine. I’m fine. But, uh, everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here, now, thank you.”

“Exactly,” she gripped his arm, then kissed his cheek before whispering. “Thank you. I can do this. Trust me.”

“Of course I trust you,” he grumbled. “I just don’t want you to _have_ to do it.”

“I’ve had far worse assignments,” she pointed out.

“Fair enough—if it gets bad…”

“They have extraction all covered,” she nodded to where Steve and James were staring at them and Tony was working on not looking uncomfortable with it.

“Some of us are also freezing,” Tony pointed out. “And hungry.”

“Well then,” Natasha said, her smile growing as she spread her hands and walked backwards. “Let’s eat.” She pivoted, tugging her hat off as she reached the doors. She stomped her feet and then pushed inward.

“Auntie Nat!!” Lila and Coop bellowed at the same time and her smile didn’t falter, not once. She managed to get her jacket off with James’ assist just before Lila scampered around the corner.

“Lila!” Laura called but Nat was already bending and she scooped her right up hugging her as Coop caught her waist and hugged her.

“I got them,” Natasha said. “Sorry, we’re late.”

“I missed you, Auntie Nat,” Lila said, arms around her neck.

Natasha kissed her cheek. “I missed you, too. I’m starving.”

“Mommy made roast beast and potatoes just for you,” Lila whispered in her ear.

“Yes!” Natasha said, holding up her hand and she got a high five from Lila and then Coop.

“C’mon, kids,” Clint was saying. “Let Auntie Nat get in the door.”

Lila’s arms tightened around her even as Coop listened to his dad. “Hi Uncle Steve,” Lila said grinning at him. “Uncle Bucky.”

“Oh! Uncle Tony!” Coop darted for a hug and Natasha laughed.

“Hello Lila,” Steve told her. “Want a ride to dinner?”

“Nah, I got mine,” she told them. “Will you sit with me, Auntie Nat?”

“Of course, I will,” Natasha promised.

“All right, kids,” Laura said, appearing in the doorway even as Nate let out a yell. Her gaze went straight to Nat and the worry in them was exactly what Natasha hadn’t wanted to see. “Everyone in and let’s go, dinner’s on the table. You guys are late.”

The team was already seated around the table, several spots open. Lila squirmed down and caught her hand. The food was stacked at the table and even Sharon was seated next to Sam and she wore a most bemused expression as they found their spots. Lila got the spot on Nat’s right and Steve took the seat on her left, James was across from her next to Peter but Tony sat down on the other side of Lila with Coop on his other side.

“I thought you were starting in twenty minutes, no excuses?” Natasha said eyeing Laura.

“Keep it up and we’ll serve you last,” Laura told her without heat. The dishes began making the rounds, the roast, the potatoes, the vegetables and bread. There was butter and gravy and even mint sauce.

Her gaze snagged on Steve’s when she took the plate of roast slices from him and he raised his eyebrows. She winked and he shook his head.

Five minutes down. She could do this.

~~~

Dinner was great. The food was always good. Lila offered up a constant stream of chatter which meant all Natasha had to do was listen at least until Coop jumped in and then it was a battle between the two.

Apparently, a lot had happened in the three-plus weeks since Thanksgiving.

Three weeks.

Natasha reached for the water glass and downed it like it was vodka.

“Yeah, about that snowball fight guys,” Rhodey said. “Not really feeling it.”

Tony turned and looked at Natasha. “That means you have to lose a member.”

“Did you ask everyone for your team yet?” She hadn’t, Lila had dominated the conversation.

“Wait, snowball fight, Auntie Nat? Can I be on your team?”

“Nope,” she told Lila but before she could argue, she said, “You’re one of the referees, you and Coop. Since Rhodey’s sitting out the fight, he can help with that, can’t he?”

Without missing a beat, Rhodey lifted his glass toward her. “That I can. Then I’m on the road.”

She’d thought he’d already left, but apparently, he had made a special trip back for tonight’s meal.

“Wanda and Sam are in,” Peter told her. “I haven’t asked Clint yet.”

“Well, if we lose Rhodey, that leaves us with Vision or Sharon—or both?” Tony eyed them.

“I do not believe I would be comfortable with a contest of that nature,” Vision said. “Though I am more than happy to participate as a referee.”

Lila grinned. “That’s four for our team—how many do you have Auntie Nat?”

“Four so far, your dad was going to be our fifth if we needed it.”

Clint eyed her balefully. “So I’m an afterthought?”

“No, you’re overwatch.”

Okay, he nodded as if he would give her that.

“Uncle Tony?” Lila blinked up at him.

“Well, we’re at three so far, if Sharon says yes? What’ll it be Carter, you in or out?”

“In a snowball war—against Natasha’s team?” She looked doubtful, then shrugged. “You know, you only live once.”

“That’s four,” Tony said with a smirk. “Guess you’re out Barton. You can do refereeing with the kids.”

“I don’t know,” Laura said. “It would seem to be there’s a significant power differential.”

Natasha eyed her and even Peter frowned.

“I think Clint should be on Tony’s team to even it up.”

“Wait—Tony’s team has Iron Man, Cap, and the Winter Soldier—Nat’s just got me, the kid, and Wanda, no offense…” Sam stared at her. “You think Tony’s team is outmatched?”

“Your team has Natasha,” Laura pointed out then she looked at Clint.

“Nope. Not doing it. They’re on their own.”

Natasha laughed.

“C’mon Daddy, you could pick Uncle Tony’s team and then switch sides at the end to save Auntie Nat.”

There was dead silence to that proclamation and Natasha caught Tony eyeing Lila, then her. “You can tell you’re the favorite aunt,” he said, more amused than annoyed and the collectively held breath went out of them.

“Except I need to teach you the subtle art of planning,” she told Lila. “Like we don’t announce our double agent status.”

“Oops,” Lila grinned.

Natasha shook her head. “It’s up to Clint—you guys can go five on four. I’ll spot you the player.”

“You’ll spot us a player, Natalia?” James bumped his foot against hers, a light touch. A check-in. She nodded.

“That’s what I said, I’m happy with my team. We’ve got spunk.”

“No, we have the punk,” James stated with a motion toward Steve.

Wanda laughed.

“You know,” Rhodey said. “Maybe I should be on Natasha’s team. Even it up a little. She can take Cap and Bucky, we’ll take everyone else.”

“Hey,” Steve said, though he was laughing too hard to make it sound at all serious.

“That’s how it is, Colonel Rhodes? Twenty years of friendship and this is how you repay me?”

“You wouldn’t let me ride in the funvee,” Rhodey told him drily.

“That wounds me,” Tony said. “Really wounds me. Maybe I should switch teams…”

“Nope,” Peter announced. “Too late. We got Natasha, you don’t.”

Sam fist bumped Peter. “Yep, you’re stuck with Cap and Bucky.”

“Stuck with?” Steve said, eyeing Sam. “That’s how it is?”

“Oh, that’s how it is,” Sam grinned.

“You stay right where you are, Sam,” James told him with a slow smile. “We’ve get this covered.”

“Hey, Auntie Nat,” Lila called and then beckoned her down so she tilted her head for Lila to whisper in her ear. “We have to go to bed soon—will you do our bedtime story?”

Having expected that, she turned and cupped her hands around Lila’s ear and whispered, “Yes, I will.”

Lila beamed.

“And Rhodey, you’re more than welcome to be on my team,” Natasha told him as she straightened. “But don’t feel like you have to.”

“I don’t know,” Rhodey said slowly.

“Hey Rhodey,” Clint said, standing. “Flip you for it, heads I get Nat, tails you do.”

“Are you feeling really unloved at the moment?” Tony demanded as he twisted to look at Steve.

“I’m feeling something,” Steve said with a shake of his head, though his expression was amused. “Though at the rate we’re going… we may be still deciding teams tomorrow morning.”

“Oh no,” Natasha tilted her head back to smile at him. “We won’t.”

His blue eyes darkened as he studied her. “Yeah?” He wasn’t asking about the teams.

“Oh yeah.” She had this. Sixty minutes in and she wasn’t dripping with sweat. She totally had this.

“All right, who would like dessert?”

“Oh, Mommy made brownie pie,” Coop announced as he raised his hand, Lila shot hers up and Tony glanced at them and raised his hand, too.

The number of hands going up around the table set off another ripple of laughter.

“I’ll help,” Natasha said, pushing her chair back and lifting her plate, she got Lila’s too, and then glanced at Tony’s. “Done?”

“Yeah,” he answered, handing it off and she eyed Steve as he lifted his plate for her to snag.

“Thank you,” she carried the plates toward the kitchen, vividly aware of Laura in hot pursuit and the fact that Wanda had also started gathering dishes and Clint had picked up a few.

“Hey,” Laura said, as Natasha scraped off the scraps into the bin that would eventually make its way somewhere to composting. “I can do that.”

“So can I,” Natasha said, keeping her voice even. “Why don’t you dish out the brownie pie before the kids stage a mutiny.” Brownie pie was a favorite, usually served warm with ice cream.

“On it,” Clint said and Wanda came over to empty her gathered plates then she got the sink on.

“I can rinse these and load them.”

After passing her stack of plates over to Wanda, Natasha met Laura’s troubled gaze. “Nat…”

“Not here,” Natasha told her firmly. “And not _now_.”

Clint brushed his knuckles down Laura’s back, meeting Natasha’s gaze over her shoulder. “Yeah, we can wait, right? Dessert? Kids first?”

Behind them both, Wanda looked at Natasha with a question in her eyes. Did she interfere?

“You know,” Tony announced as he strolled in. “It occurs to me that I have never had brownie pie. So I need to approve this dessert. Would you do me the honors of showing me how it’s done?”

“I can do that,” Coop said, charging in.

“Me, too.”

Laura looked at Clint and her expression shifted, but she nodded and Natasha relaxed a bit. Tony’s distraction definitely helped. She mouthed a small ‘thank you’ and he winked.

Lila captured her hand and tugged her over. On the far side of the dining room, she caught Steve holding Nate and bouncing him a little as he and James spoke. They were standing at the far end of the dining room and more than once they’d glanced at the kitchen.

She was fine. This was going fine. It would continue to go fine and when Lila beckoned her attention, she helped her build the brownie pie, warm slice, scoop of ice cream, and then hot fudge, a little whipped cream and nuts.

“That’s like sin in a bowl,” Tony said as Natasha lifted the whipped cream can.

“Baby bird,” she told Lila and Lila opened up promptly and Natasha gave her a swirl of whipped cream. Coop hustled over for his and Tony laughed.

“Yes, please?”

The temptation to really just spray his face was right there, but mindful of the audience she just gave him a mouthful.

“Nat!” Laura scolded. “You’re spoiling them.”

“It’s all right,” Tony exclaimed, giving Nat’s shoulders the lightest of touches as he slipped an arm around her. It was a natural Tony move, lasted for exactly four seconds and he released her. “I was ruined long before she got there.”

Coop and Lila burst into giggles then began the relay of delivering desserts as Natasha resumed helping assemble them.

By the time, she carried her own bowl out, Steve said, “I think this little guy isn’t going to settle again. All he wants is to be up.”

“I told you he was a fan,” Natasha reminded him as she set the bowl down. “Come see, Auntie Nat?” When she held out her hands, he almost launched from Steve right to her. There was something solid about a toddler, so much still a baby and yet becoming a little kid.

The fact Nate was a boy, and her little traitor, kept the first clog of tears at the back of her throat in check. She bounced him as Nate got a fistful of her hair and laughed. “I think someone is just overtired, aren’t they?”

“I can…” Laura started to say.

“No, no. Have your dessert. Nate needs some Auntie Nat time, too. I can walk him a bit and calm him down,” she murmured as she was already moving. “Can’t I? Cause that’s what Auntie Nat does.”

She started swaying as she moved, humming and even though Nate had been squirmy, he got all cuddly. He liked this part. Lila had, too.

So had Mary Elizabeth. It struck like a poleaxe to the back of her head. Some babies were fastidious. That thought had hit her when she’d been cleaning up a very messy Nate. He had food smears on him now.

Mary Elizabeth had been her fastidious baby. When Nate tugged on her hair, she smiled at him automatically then hummed. He pressed a fist up to his mouth and his head to her shoulder.

Friday opened the door to the suite she was starting to think of as belonging to Clint’s family. The hush of footsteps behind her told her at least one of them followed. Unsurprisingly, she turned to find Clint.

“Nat…”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, still swaying with Nate. “This is actually kind of nice.”

His gray-green eyes went a little misty. “You sure?”

“Yeah…that episode I had in here? It started because I was thinking that Nate was such a messy little eater, but not all babies were.” She kept her voice light and gentle, as they were talking about happy bouncy things. Moving to where Laura had Nate’s things set up, she helped him out of his soiled clothes with Clint whisking them away. “Yes, I did and then I did this…” She blew a raspberry on Nate’s belly and he laughed. When she shook her hair at him, he giggles. “It’s not really long enough to tickle anymore…no, it’s not but I can do this…” She tickled him and earned another round of laughter.

While he was distracted, she whisked his diaper off and got him into a fresh one before Clint started wiping his face and hands with a damp washcloth.

“You were remembering…”

“Hmm-hmmm… not even realizing I was remembering.”

“And now?” He eyed her.

“Doesn’t hurt now.” She offered her fingers to Nate and he grasped them. Then meeting Clint’s worried gaze, she found a smile. “It really doesn’t.”

He sighed, then held out a hand to her. “Can I?” She leaned in and he put a hand on the back of her head as he pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re so stubborn you crazy Russian.”

“Damn straight,” she murmured. “Where’s the Captain America onesie anyway?”

Clint snorted. “Little traitor all the way around, not a little Natasha and doesn’t even like Hawkeye.”

“Give him time, Steve’s kind of impressive.”

“Only kind of? Have you actually reached the part of dating where you’re not impressed by tall, blond, and heroic?”

“Ha.” She tweaked his nose. “Don’t get your hopes up. I like dating boys.”

“You know, I’m going to die the day Lila tells me that.”

“Eh,” she murmured. “She could go for girls, you never know…or both.”

“Not helping,” Clint grumbled but the corners of his mouth twitched.

Clint pulled out the onesie with a flourish and they got him all dressed in it. Nate reached up to her and she lifted him for a cuddle.

“He’s getting so big.”

“Every time I see him,” Clint said with a sigh, and then looked at her. “And I know… go home. It’s what you keep telling me.”

“Or bring them here,” she told him. “They’re your family Clint.”

“I know.” He brushed his hand over Nate’s head. “I’m working on it.”

“Really?” Was he really?

“Yeah, Kid. I am.”

“You know I’m in your corner, right?”

He smiled at her. “And I’m in yours.”

“We’re almost good at this…”

“Speak for yourself, I’ve _always_ been good at this.” He grinned. “You’re getting passable though.”

They got another few minutes before Coop and Lila raced into the room, Clint caught them before they made too much noise. Nate had fallen asleep against her shoulder. With whispers, he directed them to wash up and get in their pajamas.

Songs and stories.

She could totally do songs and stories.

~~~

Four books read, sandwiched between Coop and Lila and two songs before she eased out from between them. Coop was almost asleep, but Lila fought it for everything she was worth. Despite the sugar and the excitement, they were both tired and it was nearly ninety minutes past their bedtime. Holidays or not, if they didn’t get enough sleep they’d be grumpy little bears in the morning.

“Auntie Nat,” Lila murmured, grabbing at her hand.

Natasha settled on the edge of the bed, pulling the blankets more firmly around Coop whose eyes had closed fully then leaned a little closer to Lila. “Time for sleep,” she told her firmly.

Auntie Nat was the fun aunt who got to spoil them rotten, but she could also be firm. Clint and Laura rarely saw it because when they were there, she didn’t have to be.

“Could you sleep over tonight?” Lila asked.

Natasha sighed. “No baby, not tonight.” She didn’t dare, not with her current nightmares. “Auntie Nat has to go back to the Tower later.”

With a pout, Lila curled on her side, then stared up at her. “But you’re safer here.”

Kneeling, Natasha stroked her hair away from her face. “Lila, I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Lila whispered, her eyes so much like her father’s grew wider and there was a tremble in her lip.

“Shh, nothing’s going to happen to me.” But she had her suspicions.

“You promise?” So deeply worried. “Mommy was crying last week… and I know I’m not supposed to listen.”

“You heard Mommy and Daddy talking?”

“Only part of it.” She winced. “Don’t tell on me?”

“Lila,” Natasha steeled herself. The edges were beginning to crumble and she couldn’t do that here. “Baby… sometimes when people talk about things, especially on the phone, and we only hear one side of it, we don’t get the whole story.”

Lila nodded slowly. “Mommy said she was scared for you.”

“Well, that could have been about anything,” Natasha told her. “But you can see me right? I’m here and in one piece. Look…all smiles.”

Those eyes peered at her, then Lila reached out to brush Natasha’s hair. “You cut your hair again.”

“Yep, trying new things.” She lifted Clint’s line.

Teeth biting into her lower lip, the little girl put her hand on Natasha’s cheek. “Do you promise that you’re okay?”

“Yes. I promise.” She lied. The lie was so much easier than the truth. “Now, you promise me you won’t eavesdrop on anymore calls and if you do, you _ask_ Mommy. What you were thinking up here…was far worse than it probably was.”

“You don’t know what Mommy was talking about?”

Making a face, Natasha shook her head. “Nope, I wasn’t listening to the call.” She kept her voice very hushed as she said it and Lila’s eyes lit up and she grinned, then buried a giggle against the blanket. “Now, sleep, milaya devushka.” Leaning in closer, she pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Auntie Nat?”

Natasha did not sigh, she did not allow any impatience to creep into her face and she did not snap. She merely gave her an indulgent look. “Hmm?”

“I love you,” Lila whispered and the fraying parts began to snap.

“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.” She pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Now, sleep.”

As she stood, Lila closed her eyes and Natasha touched the light switch to drop the low light down to dim.

Heart racing, she did a full sweep of the room. Not she needed to with Friday monitoring, but Natasha still checked the windows, the door to the bathroom, then checked the closet, before closing each one

From the bed came the soft whisper of, “thank you.”

Lila hadn’t asked her to chase away monsters from under the bed in a long time. Natasha hadn’t been looking for Lila. Out of their bedroom, the rest of the suite was quiet. Clint may have kept Laura out with the others to buy Natasha some time. The slam of her heart against her ribs threatened to leave bruises. She checked on Nate before moving on silent feet to the living room.

Her chest grew tighter, squeezing her chest. “Friday, Lila and Coop are tucked in and Nate’s in bed.”

“I have them, Natasha…” Friday answered in a soft voice. “Your pulse and respiration are increasing.”

“I know. I’m fine. Just keep an eye on them.”

She had to get out of the suite. Fisting her control, she kept her steps steady as she let herself out and the door secured. It took a minute to leave the guest hall and make her way to the residential. The residential hall was quiet. They were all visiting and laughing out in the common room. Family dinner, time to be together.

Her stomach rolled and she forced her breathing to slow but she couldn’t get it deeper. Tingles raced up her hands and sweat soaked through her shirt. She was boiling and freezing in the same breath.

Electrocution. Drowning. Suffocation.

The door to her room wouldn’t open, then the lock gave and she was inside, she pulled at the turtleneck to get away from her throat as she made it another step. Then another. Just get to the sofa. Get to the sofa. Get her breathing under control and she could make the call then.

She had to breathe. Doubled over, she put her head to her knees and tried to breathe.

Every ounce of her cover evaporated and her nerves jangled, the ringing in her ears matched the spots on her vision. It was like a flash bang went off. Something warm wrapped around her. A blanket brushed against her cheek. The softness absolutely at odds with the pins and needles digging into her flesh.

The stroke of a blade fileting her open.

That hadn’t been real.

She couldn’t breathe.

“In for four,” a voice said, and her hand was flat against a chest. The heartbeat under her palm beating swiftly, but at nowhere near the speed to catch her galloping pulse. “Out for four.”

“I need you to breathe, Red. Come on, in for four, out for four. Feel that?” He had his arms around her and he tapped against the blanket against her back. “Right there. Bu-bump. Bu-bump, Bu-bump. In for four, out for four.”

It was like sucking air through a straw. She got the first breath in. It rattled and hurt, she choked. The water was going to close over her head, she had to hold her breath.

“In for four,” he repeated. “Come on, feel it.” He tapped two fingers against her hand now. Her hand was against his chest. His heart hammered. Too fast. “Gotta do it with me, Red. In for four… out for four… Bu-bump. Bu-bump.”

She got a deeper breath. Then let it out. Then another. The spots on her vision slid away. But not the ringing in her ears. Not the tingling. “I’m trying,” she told him.

“Yep there she is,” he said, his voice low. Or maybe the spots hadn’t gone away. It was dark in the room. “Come on, keep breathing with me. We’re just gonna sit here and until you got it, okay?”

A little nod, because she didn’t know what else to say at the moment. “It’s dark…”

“Friday and I turned down the lights. You got pupils the size of saucers at the moment. Wasn’t sure if it was an episode or a panic attack or a panic episode or maybe you were just bucking for swaddling treatment.”

He tapped two fingers against the back of her hand again.

“Just because I’m talking doesn’t mean you don’t keep breathing, in for four, Red. There we go…and out for four.”

Lifting her gaze, she found Tony staring at her steadily. The strain on his face betrayed his worry, but his voice didn’t shift.

“There we go, much better. See—there are so many other ways to get my attention, Red. I mean, a simple smack in the back of the head works. You know this.”

The steel band around her chest began to loosen. The pounding pace of her heart eased some. The heat flushing her gave way to a chill and she shuddered. He tightened the blanket around her. It was a blanket, and it was wrapped around her and they were sitting on the floor next to the sofa. The coffee table had been shoved away and Tony had her half in his lap, with only one of her hands out.

“I freaked out,” she admitted, more confused than anything. “Did the kids...”

“No, Natasha,” Friday said gently. “They were both asleep and you made it out of the Barton’s guest quarters and down the residential hall to your room.”

Okay. She barely remembered the walk. Eyes closing, she shuddered again.

“Is this too much?” Tony asked, stilling the steady beat he’d been tapping for her.

“It’s fine,” she admitted. The inside of her skin felt like she’d been dropped into a giant bell just before it had been struck.

“Okay, keep breathing for me. Don’t have to talk. Don’t have to say anything. You put on a fantastic performance tonight. Those kids are so lucky to have you. But you’re good, all clear. You can just sit here until you’re ready to get up. If you want us to get you out without seeing anyone, I can have two suits here in a minute.”

A little laugh escaped even as her teeth chattered and Tony shifted to grab another blanket and he added it to the one already wrapped around her. “Last time I was in a suit, I really didn’t enjoy the landing.”

He snorted. “We gotta make that up to you at some point. Trust me, my rides are smooth—you like the snowmobile, yeah?”

“And the quinjet,” she admitted.

“See, that’s why you want the bike to be a real skid, a flying sled…you want to do all the crazy stunts.”

“Maybe,” she said, the word chattering. “Or maybe I just like challenging you.”

“Well no shit,” he muttered, then laughed. “You’ve been challenging me since the day you strutted into my life.”

“Didn’t strut,” she muttered. She couldn’t quite contain the shivering, so she just focused on the breathing.

“Oh yes you did. Strutted in there with your spy whammy ways and turning me into a hot mess.”

Natasha squinted at him, then snorted.

He grinned. “What are you trying to say, Red? That I was already a hot mess?” With a shrug, he added, “I can accept that.”

Another laugh escaped, a little better than the last one.

“You know,” he continued. “I could upgrade the snowmobile. Make it an all-terrain vehicle. The sky is kind of terrain. But we’d have to look at suit upgrades depending on altitude and then there’s the fact you do that crazy crap like jump off high speed moving vehicles while in mid flight.”

“I landed it,” she reminded him.

“Be kind, I have a heart condition.”

“Oh, now you notice.” Her breaths were coming slower and deeper. Her pulse eased back and she sagged. Exhaustion crawled through her like a demolition team took out every ounce of her adrenaline.

“How we doing?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Tired,” she admitted.

“Okay.” He shifted and her with it. She was on her side, her head against his shoulder and her hand was back inside the blanket, he fixed it so it was pulled taut against her, tight but not so tight she couldn’t get out. “Go to sleep. We’ve got time.”

“I have to…”

“Do absolutely nothing,” he told her. “Friday will let Steve and Bucky know where you are. Everyone else can just deal. You put on a hell of a performance tonight, Red. Academy Award-winning and we all did our parts. Now sleep.”

She really shouldn’t, but her eyes had lead weights and her chin drooped. So tired. Everything hurt.

“Shh,” Tony murmured. “Friday—give us some Jessica Fletcher, yeah?”

Natasha cracked her eyelids enough to see the opening credits.

“See, we’re just going to get our Cabot Cove on,” Tony murmured. “Don’t worry about missing the episode, we can rewatch it later.”

She focused on the show… the music…and then her eyes closed again.

“Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers are on the way, Boss,” Friday said quietly.

“Good deal,” Tony answered in a whisper.

Then she was out.

~~~

**Tony**

Natasha skipped dessert entirely, disappearing with baby Nate and Clint followed her. She probably needed the break and Tony managed a couple of bites of his dessert in between Coop and Peter discussing a new project they wanted to do while Coop was in town. With that in mind, he slipped away with a cup of coffee to check one of the labs.

The Compound played host to more of the research teams than the Tower did these days. But Tony kept a couple of the labs earmarked for his research and a third he’d built with Bruce’s eccentricities in mind. A little more isolated, private, and non-accessible without entering the Avengers-only portion of the complex. Since Bruce vanished before the Compound was ready, Tony hadn’t been able to surprise him.

Peter worked out at the Tower most often, closer to home and all that. If the Bartons were going to be regular visitors, however—and Tony rather hoped they would be—then Pete would also make trips out here. Coop was younger than Pete by a few years, but they had an older sibling/younger sibling dynamic going on. Being an only child was tough, Tony remembered. So fostering this was not a bad idea.

“Hey Baby Girl,” Tony said as he studied the empty lab. “Let’s take a look at a few upgrades, particularly in areas of safety. We can lower a couple of these counters, by an inch or so.” That would give Coop a more comfortable workspace until he grew taller. “Let’s get a couple more monitors in here. I want safety grip tools.”

He pulled out one of the drawers. They had a little bit of everything including… “Fingerprint lock this drawer to those ages 16 and up.” It had laser cutters. Pete would be sixteen soon enough. “Then let’s look at bringing in…” No, not Dum-E. In fact… “Let’s get the chassis and parts for a support robot in here. Pull designs from my portfolio—MIT year 3 and post-grad work.”

“The Ork and the Nanu?”

Tony snorted. Too much _Mork and Mindy_ as a kid, he supposed. “Yes, let’s get both of those loaded up here. Full specs and design, get parts ordered for assembly, but keep them separated. Set up a private server locked to their voiceprints, I’ve got override, give it to Red and Clint, too.”

The parents should always have a way in.

“Sergeant Barnes?” Friday suggested.

“Oh, that’s a good idea. In fact,” he said slowly, turning to look at the far side of the lab. “Set up a third workstation matched to Bucky’s height and core engineering studies.” He still couldn’t get over the fact the guy had a damn degree in it and never said anything. “Let’s also prep it with access for those online courses and stock up for the first—twenty projects? Then when he’s got the first ten done, restock as required.”

Friday had a holo screen open, listing the items she was ordering and he would occasionally interrupt to change some out. Building, designing, and developing required access to a lot of raw materials. He kept a standard stock in his labs, but his work tended to be narrower in focus these days. The kids needed to have more options.

He could almost see it. The three of them in here working, teasing each other, helping out and Tony would breeze by to get a good look at what they were doing. Bucky was good with Pete and he seemed to handle Coop and Lila fine. He’d be a grounding influence and when the boys wanted to get a little crazy with the planning, they could get…

“Boss,” Friday’s voice held an edge and he slid his glasses out of his pocket and on. Natasha’s vitals spiked up into the orange and her pulse climbed toward red.

“Where is she?”

“Just leaving the Barton guest suite, Boss. She’s not quite responding.”

Dammit.

“Where are Steve and Bucky?” And why wasn’t Clint in there with her? Hadn’t he been there? Tony left the lab. One benefit of designing the place, he knew all the shortcuts.

“They are listening to one of Mr. Wilson’s stories with caveats from Colonel Rhodes. Everyone is present, I can send them a text…”

Friday got that Natasha wasn’t advertising these issues. Her pulse was still up, but just skirting the red line. “Hold that, let me check. She’ll be pissed if we all swarm her for no reason.”

Maybe she just needed a minute. The door to her room was open. Yeah, that was more than a little. He slid in the door, slowing his pace and making sure to make noise. The last time he’d interrupted an episode, she’d handed him his ass neatly and while she _hadn’t _really hurt him or seemed to be even trying to hurt him, it had upset her that she might have.

Natasha was on her knees about a foot from the sofa, her breath coming in fast, swift pants.

Oh, he recognized that feeling.

Fuck.

Looked like a panic attack. Breathed like a panic attack. He swept his gaze around the room then snagged the blanket off the back of the sofa. Not quite the one he’d seen in their living room, but he’d listened when Steve explained it earlier. The pressure, the binding, and how it let him hold her without increasing contact.

Damn good idea.

“Boss?” Friday asked.

“Get ready to call them if she takes this the wrong way,” he told Friday. “Hey Red, not sure you can hear me, but I’m right here. It’s just me, no bad guys. Just you and me.” He draped the blanket around her and then shifted to get it bound around her upper body.

Her pupils were blown, her face pale and she kept clenching her hands into fists. Yeah… “Close the door and reduce the lights, Friday.”

“Come on, Red, you can do this… breathe for me.” How many times had she done this for him? She’d pushed it, played the part, sold the idea she was just fine like a master. Hell, if he hadn’t been aware of the problems, he could have bought into the act, too.

Arm wrapped around her, he got her shifted. The fact she barely responded or even seemed to notice he was there? Yeah. Bad sign.

Risking it, he caught her hand and tugged it out carefully then pressed it against his heart. “C’mon, Red, you can do this. In for four. Out for four. I need you to breathe, Red. Come on, in for four, out for four. Feel that?”

He tapped his hand against her back. “Right there, bu-bump. Bu-bump. Bu-bump. Bu-bum. In for four. Out for four.”

Repeating the phrases, he kept his voice calm. The first noisy rattle of her sucking in a slightly deeper breath helped. The next fifteen minutes passed in agonizing slowness, but he had her vitals, her pulse wasn’t rabbiting, her breathing evened.

Friday kept a running dialogue on his lenses. Phrase suggestions for calming. Then she’d finally texted Steve and Bucky, because she didn’t want to pull them out with the code word if Tony was calming her down for one and if it would alert the others.

He got her shifted onto his lap, tightening his arms to create the binding feel. Her breathing was much better. She’d even joked, a little. But her words slurred and her eyes were half-closed. Once _Murder She Wrote_ was on, Natasha dozed.

“Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers are on the way, Boss,” Friday said quietly.

“Good deal,” Tony answered in a whisper.

Natasha didn’t stir.

A couple of minutes later, the door released as Friday let them in. Steve was the first inside and he blew out a long breath. Tony could almost hear the _dammit _he didn’t say aloud.

“She’s better,” Tony told them. “When I got here, I couldn’t get a word out of her and I couldn’t get her to breathe. But we got there. Blanket thing worked, Cap—though she started shivering and I wasn’t sure if it was actual cold or the contact.” That worried him a little more than he cared to admit.

Bucky crouched, tilting his head to look at her face. “Do we know what happened?”

“You mean besides her pushing it?” Steve asked before he raked his hand through his hair. They were all keeping it quiet, but she hadn’t even stirred. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Tony wasn’t sure.

“Well we knew she was going to,” Bucky replied.

“Tony,” Steve said. “You want off the floor?”

“Only if we don’t freak her out.” He’d sat more uncomfortable places. “Can you get her?”

“Yep,” Steve murmured, then he gripped the blanket, adjusting how it lay before he slid an arm under her legs and behind her back. Tony eased her forward and the shift was almost seamless as she curled tighter, then had her head tucked against Steve’s shoulder.

After Steve rose, Bucky offered Tony a hand and he clasped it and let the other man pull him to his feet. Straightening, Tony popped his back and then rolled his head from side to side.

“Baby Girl, what happened? Do you know?” He hadn’t worried about the details on the way. Steve had moved to sit on the sofa and he had her tucked up tight.

“Young Miss Barton asked her to stay over, she was worried about something happening to her. Then admitted she’d heard Mrs. Barton crying during a call with Mr. Barton and that she’d been scared for Natasha.”

Tony wanted to groan.

“And Natalia reassured her? Even after the stories and the songs…” Bucky shook his head. “She would never let the children be afraid.”

“She did, her pulse began to climb, but when she left all the children were asleep and she asked me to enforce secure mode. She redirected her path here, she was aware that she wasn’t handling it and wanted privacy. I notified the Boss because her pulse escalated and I was concerned if I notified both of you it would betray the episode to the others. I apologize for the delay.”

Bucky glanced at him. “I’m beginning to think Friday likes Natalia more than she likes you.”

“Story of my life,” Tony admitted, hooking his hands together behind his neck as he met Steve’s gaze. “Do we get her out of here and take her back to the Tower? Or what?”

“How long has she been asleep?” He glanced from her to the TV and Tony frowned, then checked his watch.

“Approximately twenty-seven minutes,” Friday answered. “Her pulse and respiration are all in the green.”

“Give her a half-hour?” Bucky suggested. “We still have to plan for that snowball fight tomorrow.”

Tony groaned. Yeah, they did. On the one hand, it sounded like a blast. On the other…

“One step at a time,” Steve said and how he was maintaining his patience in all of this, Tony didn’t understand. He paced into her kitchen and popped the fridge. A bottle of wine on the shelf taunted him, but he ignored it and pulled out water. He tossed one to Bucky and then carried a third over to Steve.

“Do you guys care if I stay or would you prefer I go?”

“Your show is on,” Steve said and nodded to the episode. Tony hadn’t even really watched it. Not that figuring out what was going on was hard.

He dropped into a chair as Bucky took a spot on the other end of the sofa.

Should he just let her use SPARK? Every time the question cropped up, he dismissed it. The amount of trauma she already coped with was bad enough, but the point of the device had been to confront those memories, not just retrieve lost ones.

Lost memories maybe, but she hadn’t truly forgotten them or she wouldn’t react the way she did. Tony stared at the screen, but he didn’t see the show.

Twenty-two minutes later, Natasha woke up and grimaced when she glanced around at them then focused on Steve. “Sorry…”

“You’re fine,” he told her. “Too much, too fast. We adjust.”

She frowned then nodded a little. “How long?”

“About an hour, we can just tell everyone we were negotiating terms for the snowball fight,” Tony said, relaxing now that she seemed a little more like her.

After rubbing her face, Natasha paused then glanced at all of them. “That’s still on?”

“Unless you’re chickening out, Romanoff,” Steve teased. “I think you can handle throwing things at our heads.”

“I’ll be concentrating on Sam,” Bucky said with a smirk.

“Hey, no strategizing with the enemy,” Tony scolded.

“Not a chance,” Natasha said, then raked her fingers through her hair. “Need to rejoin everyone—need to set up tomorrow morning and then…then I want to go back to the Tower.”

“We can do that,” Bucky said.

“I’m going to throw some water on my face.” She rose, disentangling herself from the blanket. Wordless, she caught Steve’s hand and he smiled, then she brushed her fingers to Bucky’s arm and he nodded. Tony half-expected her to keep moving, but she put her hand on his shoulder, then kissed the top of his head. “Thank you, Tony.”

“I’d say anytime, but I’d really prefer it if you never needed that kind of help again.”

“You and me both,” she murmured, bumping her fist to his shoulder lightly before disappearing into her room and shutting the door.

As soon as she was out, he looked at Steve. “How are you so calm?” Tony wasn’t calm even if he was putting on a good act.

“Because she would be,” Steve said after a long moment. “Because right now, what she’s going through she can’t control. But we can control how we react to it.”

He had a point.

Bucky rolled his head from side to side. “Natalia is stubborn. She will not stop pushing herself.”

That, Tony believed.

“She’s done this for all of us,” Steve pointed out and Tony paused. “She’s held us together, looked after us, put the pieces back together and then allowed us our normalcy.”

She had, Tony was well aware of it.

“We smothered her before,” Steve continued.

“Not doing that again,” Tony said, lifting a hand. “Or at least trying not to.”

Bucky just shrugged.

“Right now,” Steve stated as he stood and folded the blanket. “We take it one step and one day at a time. Let her set the pace and…”

“…stay close enough to catch me when I trip,” she finished, leaning against the doorway to her room, arms folded. Her lack of annoyance at their discussion of her surprised Tony. “Sounds like a plan.”

Without apology, Steve nodded. “For now. If we really think it’s not working, we’re revisiting that plan. Agreed?”

Bucky shifted on the sofa and faced her. “I’m with Stevie on this one, Natalia. None of us want you to suffer. But—some of this we can’t do for you.”

When Natasha looked at him, Tony held up his hands and shook his head. “Cap makes the calls. I just don’t happen to disagree with any of them.”

“Agreed—tonight went fine until…”

“It didn’t,” Buck finished for her.

“You did great, Red. Like I said earlier, Academy Award-winning.”

“But Angel,” Steve said, eyeing her. “For a little while—can one of us back you up with the kids just in case?”

She made a face.

“Extraction plans are hard to pull off if we’re scrambling too late,” Tony told her. “We’re all giving you distance, Red. Cut us a little slack?”

“You guys just want to hear the lullabies.”

“Not gonna lie,” Tony admitted. “That played a small factor in my decision.”

Steve’s chuckle, however, pulled a small smile from her. “You good to go back out there and plot destruction and mayhem?”

“You really think highly of my battle plans, don’t you?” There was still a bit of brittleness in her eyes, hint of tension around the corners of her mouth. But the bite to her wit was all her.

“Oh yes,” Bucky said. “You have that look you wear when you’re going to blow something up.”

“Huh,” Natasha said as she strolled past them. She moved a little slower, probably tired and sore. Tony always was after a panic attack. Hell, he was impressed she was on her feet. It could take him more than a hot minute. “You never know…maybe I will.”

Steve groaned and Tony frowned but Natasha was already out of the door with Bucky a half step behind her. “You think she’s serious?” Tony asked as he stood.

“I think she’s Natasha.”

That translated to yes.

“We need a plan,” he said.

“Yep,” Steve answered, clapping him on the shoulder and it wasn’t until they were halfway up the hall that Tony even processed the fact that felt natural. “We need a plan. Let’s get Buck, Sharon and Rhodey…”

“Leave Clint on her team.” Tony nodded. She needed one of them there.

“That’s part one of the plan,” Steve agreed as they rounded the corner. “Now we just have to figure out part two.”

“Win,” Tony reminded him. “That’s part two.”

With a snort, Steve shook his head. “You do remember we’re up against Nat, right?”

“Never say I’m not optimistic.”

He could almost hear Steve’s eye roll when he said, “Oh, I’d never say that.”


	19. Wargames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the games begin...

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Wargames**

**Steve**

Steve stepped out of the shower, snagging a towel to run over himself to dry off. They were all up early. They needed to make the flight to the Compound where the teams were getting twenty minutes to plan then deploy. Natasha suggested that the night before because it was late and she as much as any of them needed sleep. Besides, she’d pointed out, all too often they landed in combat situations without intel, they had to learn to trust each other on the fly.

And his favorite line…

“It’ll be fun.”

Bucky had breakfast cooking, he could smell the bacon sizzling. The warmth of cinnamon rolls flavored the air. Nat had been out of bed before both of them, but she’d slept through the night. Steve had woken a couple of times, but she’d been right there, sleeping without the tense frown lines or faint twitch of an impending nightmare.

Buck seemed better, too. Hooking the towel over the rack, Steve checked his beard in the mirror. He needed to trim it some. Tony had been a little surprised when Steve left Natasha and Bucky to have a day together, but he’d meant it when he said they needed the time. And they didn’t need to worry about always looping him in, the fact both kept doing it even when they should be focusing on each other made him more of a distraction.

Trimming his beard, he sighed. The only real issue he’d taken with the day before was Nat’s plan to just suck it up and endure. She’d played her part to perfection right up until she’d collapsed under the weight of it. Tony had gotten her calmed down and then she slept. The weariness in her eyes when she woke up though, it made Steve wish they had more time before the holidays.

Done, he cleaned up from the trim, then opened the bathroom door to find Natasha sitting in the middle of his bed, head tilted. She was still only wearing a—it looked like Bucky’s—t-shirt, but those boxers were Steve’s. A huff of laughter escaped him. “You really are a clothing thief.”

She gave him a careless shrug and a grin. “You know where they are and I’ll never object to you wanting them back—you just have to come and get them.”

“Yeah?” He swept his gaze over her. There was color in her cheeks, her eyes were brighter, and she even seemed more relaxed. All positive signs.

“Oh yeah. By the way…” She let her eyes dip and he was well aware of the assessment. The corner of his mouth twitched as he turned slowly, then glanced over his shoulder. Brazen hadn’t been in his vocabulary, not before her. He wasn’t always sure it was in his vocabulary now, but—he didn’t get all hot-faced or flushing when she raked her gaze over him. “You look good, Rogers.”

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Flattery will not make me reveal our plans.”

She threw her head back and laughed, open, warm, and throaty. Tipping sideways, she collapsed against his pillows then propped herself up on an elbow as he pulled fresh boxer briefs from the dresser. He went with the compression shorts since they were all going to be in body armor.

“Steve…”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for yesterday.”

He pivoted and studied her. “You’re very welcome, Angel. Did it help?”

“I think so… seeing the apartment…seeing the place I remembered. Made it real. I think there’s still this little part of me holding onto the idea that it’s going to turn out to be an elaborate construction, a lie, planted memory—something.”

Grimacing, he said, “Would you prefer that?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “But for a long time, I never thought good things happened to me. If something good happened, it was an accident. It’s hard to trust happy.”

She’d told Clint not all that long ago she was happy. “You’ll be happy again,” he promised.

Pushing upward, she patted the bed near her and he dragged on the shorts before he sat. “I am happy.”

“You’re…” Disbelief speared him.

“Wait,” she said, holding out a hand and he took it, albeit reluctantly, he didn’t want her pushing herself. She threaded her fingers with his. “I know this sounds nuts, and I reserve the right to be nuts because—I’m me.”

He snorted, smiling despite the comment. “You are definitely you.”

“Thank you,” she told him, then her smile faded. “I’ve survived bad things before.”

He knew that and he _hated_ that she’d _had_ survive them.

“If I’m brutally honest, I’ve survived horrible things before,” she said it without irony or hyperbole.

“I know, Angel,” he said, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. Her eyes didn’t shift away, her lips didn’t tighten. None of the stressors were there, but after the night before… “Just pull away if this is too much, okay?”

“I will, but I don’t want to pull away. This is important. I need you to believe me.”

“Okay,” he said. “I will.”

She laughed. “Just like that?”

“You don’t lie to me,” he said and at her raised eyebrows. “You don’t lie to me about anything important and I’m very well aware of all of your efforts to not fall back on default habits. Even when you don’t want to tell me something, you don’t lie about it.”

“Thank you. It’s kind of nice to not have to feel like I need to deceive everyone. I don’t like deceiving you.”

“I know.” He got that. She was irritated with Clint and made it abundantly clear the night before the reasons _why_. But it didn’t stop her talking to him. She’d been circumspect in what she shared about her time in captivity and Steve understood that, too. It wasn’t like he was in a hurry to discuss being trapped in the ice or Bucky spent a lot of hours on his time with Hydra _except_ when it came to Natasha. “But I think we’ve proven we can disagree and even argue and we’re all right on the other side.”

“You know, I actually miss when you would be exasperated and yell at me.”

He raised his brows. “Hence pushing my buttons the other night?”

She smiled then tugged his fingers lightly. “It was how I knew you cared. Why yell at someone if you didn’t?”

That set him back a little. It—of course it made sense. Natasha saw anger as a sign of attachment. “Then I’ll make sure I yell at you regularly, Romanoff.”

“Be careful, I just might yell back these days.”

“I think I can take it,” he promised, then lifted her fingers to kiss them. Just the barest brush of one, never lifting his gaze from hers. The elevator chimed beyond his room. Peter had arrived. The rumble of Bucky’s voice greeted him. “What was it you needed me to believe you about?”

“I’ve never had this kind of support before. I know I don’t always act like it and I know I said at first that maybe I needed to go away… go lick my wounds. It’s what I do. It’s—I can be dangerous. But you haven’t let me slide back into hiding in the shadows. You’re right there. You. James. Tony. Clint. Even Peter.” She shook her head. “The team… everyone. Steve, even _Sharon_ has been there to offer something. I’ve never had this. Even when we had the team before…”

She squeezed his hand so tightly he was pretty sure what nails she had were going to leave indentions in his flesh but he didn’t pull away from it. Not from her. Not for anything.

“I know,” he told her, bowing his head against her hand where she gripped him and hoping like hell it wasn’t too much, but then she slid her other hand into his hair and he closed his eyes. Straightening, he didn’t object when she ghosted her hand down to his face. “I am so grateful for you.”

“Grateful enough to let me invite _you_ on a date?”

Surprise rippled through him. “I don’t have to be grateful for that.”

“Is that a yes?”

“When and where I’ll be there.”

“Sunday evening. My floor. You and me.”

“Formal or informal?”

“Hmm…” Natasha tilted her head. “Casual…but maybe the dark blue button down and slacks?”

“Pick it out, I’ll wear it.” Then he studied her. “You know you don’t have a damn thing to prove to me, right?”

She gave his hand one more squeeze and scratched his beard gently before flopping back on the bed. “You know I love you, right?”

Not holding back the slow grin, he nodded. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“See…” She winked. “Happy.”

Something loosened in his chest, a breath he’d been holding. Telling her and Buck about feeling useless and helpless in the face of her abduction had lanced a wound, but this—this bound it up. Stitched it up. “Can we just stay here today where I can stare at you to my heart’s content rather than have to go play wargames?”

“I’m actually looking forward to it.”

Steve chuckled because he was well aware. She’d brightened up _for real_ when discussing it the evening before. There had been a real energy there, a sense of purpose to accomplish something that didn’t involve putting her soul through a shredder. Maybe it was hard for Sam to get. He’d pulled Steve aside the night before. Told him his concerns, especially if Natasha was suffering from such an extreme form of PTSD. Maybe it was hard for anyone who wasn’t Bucky or Clint and, at this point, Tony. He got the feeling Tony understood it.

Natasha hadn’t had anything resembling a normal childhood by any stretch of the imagination. She was more comfortable with killing someone than loving them. The seizures? Triggered by physical or sexual abuse? Mental and emotional? Yeah, she fit into all of those categories. So when she asked for something she needed or expressed a genuine want, Steve would damn well listen.

Because she did listen to him.

“You look really fierce…” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully even as her teeth scraped over her lower lip. A tell, tells she never telegraphed in mixed company. No, she dropped so many of her masks around him and he savored the openness. “If you really don’t…”

“Nat,” Steve said, rising to finally pull out a pair of jeans. He’d put tact gear on when they were ready to leave. Her little sigh when he stepped into them made him laugh even as his ears warmed. She could still get him. “We’re going to have fun and I’m glad you’re excited. But you’ll have to cut me some slack if I’m always going to prefer time alone with you to just about anything else.”

“Fair enough,” she said, rising up to her knees. “Can I get a hug?”

He glanced at the comforter on the bed. This was still his room but his bed had become more and more the bed she occupied.

“Just—skin to skin?” She was pushing herself but telling her no was hard enough.

“C’mere,” he murmured, leaning down to slide an arm around her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck and then buried her face against his throat. Taking a deep breath, he caught the scent of her shampoo and soap. The teasing hints of citrus soothing. “Be safe out there for me, today, okay?”

Lifting her face, she loosened her arms and he set her gently down and studied her expression. Her pupils were faintly dilated, but her breathing wasn’t harsh at all. Finding her all bound up, pale and a little ragged with Tony had worried him, but she’d rallied.

“Not so bad—and you smell great.” She grinned then fell into sitting cross-legged on the bed. Before he could say anything, a knock sounded on the door.

“There’s no sock on the door so I’m assuming you’re both decent. Bucky won’t feed anyone until Red eats. So—in the interests of our continued survival, particularly the starving and still growing teenager—could you please move America’s ass along and get out here? Also—Cap, no fraternizing with the other team. You’re gonna get spy whammied.”

Steve snorted, then turned to open the door and stared at Tony. “What if I want to be spy whammied?”

“That’s very unsportsmanlike of you,” Tony retorted.

Steve chuckled. “Let me grab a shirt. Buck, are you starving Peter?”

“Nope,” Pete said absolutely unrepentant. “We just told Tony he couldn’t have coffee until Natasha got hers.”

Natasha laughed. The awkward, verbal-fumbling Peter had certainly grown more comfortable with all of them. In a relatively short time, the kid fit in. It was nice.

“Fraternizing. You’re all fraternizing with the opposing team.”

“She’s not the opposing team for me, Tony,” Peter supplied cheerfully.

“I meant Bucky conspiring with you, Pete,” came the dry response.

Sliding off the bed, Natasha snagged a t-shirt off his dresser and then rose to her tiptoes and gave Steve a kiss as she handed it to him.

When he raised his brows, she grinned. “Might as well commit the crime if we’re getting yelled at for it.”

She flicked her fingers at Tony as she walked past. Though Steve was pretty sure she didn’t miss Tony’s assessing look or the fact, Peter bounced up to go get her coffee. Bucky twisted to look back at her as she reached for her plate. Pulling on his shirt, Steve padded out to join them.

All of it washed over him. The flash of the smile on her face as she sat down and the way her eyebrows lifted as she listened to Peter. Tony’s complaints as Bucky finally let him pour some coffee and get a plate. The amusement on Bucky’s face as he glanced from Tony toward Natasha and Peter then to Steve.

Natasha was right. They’d never had this before.

The sense of family and belonging.

Bucky gave him a questioning look. Steve just grinned. He was fine.

They had a ton of obstacles still to deal with, not the least of which was Nat’s memories and her stubbornness. But—they could do this.

“So what’s the bet?” Peter asked.

“You do realize gambling is illegal for those of us not eighteen years of age, don’t you?” Tony pointed out.

“That didn’t stop us before,” Peter argued.

“Arguably, we didn’t have stakes so much as a prize…” Tony pointed out. That prize had been the first dance with Natasha.

“Fine, what’s the prize?” The kid rolled with it.

“Bragging rights,” Natasha said firmly.

“Yeah, see Red—I’m thinking the kid here is right, we might need higher stakes.”

“Nope,” Steve said as he dropped into a chair with his plate and mug of coffee. Natasha slid her feet up to perch on the edge of his seat and then tucked them under his thigh. “No high stakes. This is an exercise only. Actually it’s not even an exercise, it’s fun.”

“Stakes could be fun…” Bucky mused and Steve stared at him.

“Really?”

“Why not, Stevie? Make it a little interesting for all of us?”

Tony clapped his hands. “Now we’re talking.”

“Natasha?” Peter turned wide on hers.

“C’mon Red, what do you say?”

She just shook her head. “You don’t want me betting on this.”

“Oh, I do,” Bucky stated and Steve considered why she didn’t want to gamble and Bucky wanted her to…

Natasha did not fight fair, she fought to win and if she fought to win... He raised his brows at Bucky. Did he really think she’d fall for it? A bet they would do their best to win? A bet that would push her to win, too?

His best friend gave a little shrug. What did it hurt?

True.

“Angel?” he said slanting a look at her. There was absolutely no denying the spark in her eyes.

“Et tu, Rogers?” She smirked.

“Oh yeah.” He said as she took another bite of her cinnamon roll. “It’ll be fun.”

Her grin was all the answer he needed.

Peter let out a whoop.

Tony sat forward. “Let’s talk terms.”

**Peter**

“We’ll be landing at the Compound in five,” Tony said from the pilot’s seat. Natasha slanted a look at him. He’d claimed the seat next to hers. The laughter over breakfast accompanied by the subsequent betting had him wired. “Once we reach our teams—Friday will start the timer. Twenty minutes, then we’re on the field.”

“Any other rules we’re going to add to this contest?” Steve asked, while he didn’t eye Natasha, Peter got it. No one wanted her getting hurt in the middle of this but Peter would watch her back. He was just excited she felt well enough to play.

“I don’t think we need more rules,” Natasha said, glancing up from her phone. “We’re all adults.”

“Pete’s not,” Tony said and Peter made a face.

“He’s adult adjacent,” Natasha said with a shrug then glanced at him. “See—he’s adjacent to me.”

Bucky snorted a laugh. “Whatever you want, Doll. I figure the scoring system we used before should be fine.”

“That could work, but we need to add stealth and sneaky points to it,” Tony suggested.

“Don’t overthink it, Shellhead,” Natasha commented, sliding her phone into a pouch. Like the rest of them, she was in her tact suit. Peter glanced down at his armor, then at hers.

“Does yours warm, too?” he had to ask.

Steve and Bucky didn’t need it. Tony’s armor would. But Nat’s was really thin looking.

“I’ll be fine. Not my first snow op,” she murmured. She slid her fingers up to her ear and he noticed the comm for the first time. “Channel 2. Friday, secure Channel 2.”

“Securing Channel 2, Natasha.”

“Hey,” Tony said, glancing back. “We’re not there yet.”

“And I’m securing the channel so some ingenuous billionaire doesn’t decide to hack the channel by accident to gather intelligence.”

Steve snorted, shaking his head as he stared across the quinjet at her. The fact she wore a similar smile and he looked more amused than annoyed just made Peter grin, too.

He checked that his comm was in. Karen would be online—as soon as the thought dawned on him, he glanced at Natasha but she pressed a finger to his lips. Right. No planning onboard.

“Secure Channel 3,” Steve said as he tucked his comm unit in.

Peter expected it to be Channel 1, but it wasn’t. “Channel 3 secure,” Tony answered and Bucky leaned his head back, a faint smirk on his face.

“Channel 1 emergency broadband secure,” Natasha stated.

Then over his comm, Peter caught. “Channel 1 going emergency broadband secure,” from Friday.

That made sense, if something came up, they needed a way to reach all of them.

When the engine cycle began to shift, Peter started bouncing his left leg. Natasha pressed two fingers to his leg and he stilled, glancing sideways at her.

“Save the energy,” she told him, then tapped his leg. The quinjet touched down and she rose.

The snow had continued to fall throughout the night, but it was only scattered flurries at the moment. The woods were right out of a postcard and the ground was covered in a couple of feet or more.

With a last check of her gear, Natasha eyed the guys. “Gentlemen.”

“Red.”

“Angel.”

“Widow.”

Peter blinked as Natasha laughed. “Come along, Peter.”

“We’ll see you out there, Red,” Tony called after her and Natasha’s expression seemed almost _too_ calm.

“Not if I see you first…” She answered as she led the way down the ramp.

“You will not psych me out with your spy whammy, Red!” Tony called after them and Peter bit back a laugh

“You keep telling yourself that, Tony.” She tapped her comm. “Everyone online?”

“Good morning, Natasha,” Wanda said with a yawn. “Did we have to do this so early?”

“You want early?” Clint groused. “Try getting up and feeding the kids first.”

“Online, what’s the plan?”

“We’ll be meeting at the place. Is it ready, Clint?”

“Yep,” he said with a yawn. “And I have your coffee, so be nice to me.”

She snorted. “When am I ever nice to you?”

There was a pause. “Good point. I’ve got Wanda and Sam, be there in three.”

“We’ll be five.”

Peter still didn’t know precisely where they were going. Then Natasha hooked an arm around his shoulders. “How far can you jump?”

“Twenty—thirty feet at a leap. Depends on how much of a running start I have.” He cut a look to her.

“And if you have additional weight?”

They were on the path toward the main Compound. Steve, Tony, and Bucky weren’t that far behind him.

“You’re not really additional,” he said in a hush. Was she really asking him about her weight? That was as dangerous as talking about a woman’s age. “I’ve done this before, you know.” He’d leapt a few rooftops with her before.

“Fantastic. Pick me up and let’s go. About one hundred and fifty yards northwest is our target. Take a zigzag approach, since landing is going to create disarray in the snow.”

Peter tugged his mask on even as she leaned away enough to snap a neoprene mask over the lower half of her face.

“Hold on.” He scooped her up and took three steps forward, running on the cleared concrete before he leapt.

“Woah!” Tony yelled after them.

“Don’t slow.”

He landed then launched again, but twisted and hit the side of a tree and leapt off that. Then they were in the woods and he flung a web, using that to hoist them and flip them over. He caught sight of Wanda’s red hair before he did the rest and bounced from another tree branch sending a shower of snow down before he landed in the snow itself knees bent to take the shock. He sank into the snow several inches before he straightened and carefully set Natasha on her feet.

With bright eyes, she peeled off the neoprene and grinned, but she pressed a finger to her lips before he could say anything. Clint appeared from behind the trees along with Sam. Peter stared at them. They were in all white, even Wanda was. He and Natasha would stick out like sore thumbs.

As soon as Clint was close, Natasha glanced at Wanda and swirled a single finger up. Red energy coated Wanda’s hands as he began to turn and twist her fingers in a pattern that—holy crap. The snow around them began to shift and move, trembling everything across the surface. The surface tension ruptured and then snow began to climb around them and Peter twisted to watch as Wanda crated an igloo almost and the snow beneath their feet displaced dropping them lower as it mounded up. They’d been right next to a copse of trees—

“Oh, cool…” The copse would give an illusion of a snowdrift.

Clint bumped his shoulder lightly and Peter winced, then he tugged his mask off as the whole thing sealed off and then they were inside. Natasha slid something out of her pocket, and then flicked it on until it went blue.

“Is that Tony’s?”

“Could be,” Natasha said. “This should keep electronic monitoring and super hearing from compromising our planning.”

“You think they’d try to bug you?” Peter stared.

“Me?” Natasha shook her head. Then held out a hand to Clint who passed her another device. She ran it over Peter’s suit.

“Peter,” Karen told him. “I do believe she thinks we’ve been low-jacked.”

When the tool gave off a definitive whine, Peter went slack-jawed. Natasha removed a small device from his belt. Then another one from his boot.

“We were low-jacked. Karen, do a full diagnostic, make sure there’s nothing else on my suit that shouldn’t be there.” At the same time, he said, “That’s cheating.”

“Depends—stealth points count. They still have to find the ones I put on them. So fair is fair.” She shrugged and began running the scanner over herself. Then she handed it to Clint and he ran it over her, they double-checked each other, then Wanda and Sam and finally back to Peter.

“Peter, I have found and disabled two unknown protocols that were loaded last night.”

“Karen just found some protocols that we don’t know about.” He scowled. That was really sneaky on their part.

“Karen,” Natasha said as Clint handed her a bag. “Join us on Channel 2, please.”

“Thank you, Ms. Romanoff. I have disabled to unknown protocols loaded to the suit in the last twelve hours during a standard update.”

“Any other protocols updated in that same timeframe?” Natasha pulled out a white suit and she slid it on over her tact suit as Clint handed a second bag to him. They were going to be in all white.

“Six, though these are normal updates based on diagnostics.”

“Will any be compromised if you roll them back to the previous install, then isolate and delete the updates?”

“One moment,” Karen sounded thoughtful and Peter gaped at Natasha, then Clint.

“She’s good, Kid. They know it.”

“This is a _snowball_ fight,” Peter protested.

“Nope,” Wanda told him as she braided her hair away from her face. “It’s wargames.”

“And they wanted me to place a bet…Tony was too eager and James definitely had something up his sleeve.” Natasha shook her head then covered her gloves with another white pair. She was blending into the snowy background save for her hair.

“Operation complete, all updates rolled back to 24 hours earlier to be on the safe side, Peter—Ms. Romanoff, do you have any other suggestions?”

“Friday got a back door into your system?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Karen said, the perturbed note increasing.

“What about your bracelet?” Peter asked abruptly. Tony had made that for her.

“I gave Friday a choice,” Natasha told him. “She can monitor my vitals and keep it running silent with no access for the boys, or I was leaving it at the Tower.”

He grinned.

“What Natasha giveth,” Clint said with a shake of his head. “She can taketh away.”

Ten minutes in the snow fort and they were all in white, trackers and bugs disabled and his suit protocols rolled back. Sam folded his arms. “We good to plan now?”

“The plan is simple. Distract, evade, sabotage, and then ambush.” Natasha ticked off on her fingers. “Sam, James is going to take particular glee in targeting you when he isn’t trying to flush me out. So I need you and Red Wing to keep them distracted. That means moving target. Did you bring the potato gun?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned then pointed to the pair of devices sitting to the side. “I had no idea Clint was serious when he _suggested_ I make those.”

“Very. You’ll need them for high-powered hit and runs. Strafe, return then Wanda will reload for you. She can do it faster with the scoop and dump.”

Wanda nodded.

“Peter,” Natasha said, pivoting toward him. “You are going to be the evade. You’re fast and you’re strong. You also have the benefits of the webbing. Steve has his shield and Tony can whip up as much from the snow as Wanda. Rhodey will land somewhere in the middle. Avoid engaging them directly _if_ you can. If you have to, remember, evade, evade. It’s better to bolt and make them chase you than it is to fight them directly.”

Folding his arms, Peter nodded. “What if I get caught in the middle?” That had happened before when it had been he, Bucky, Tony, and Steve battling each other.

“Clint will talk you through it, he’s going to be our eyes in the sky. If he says move, just go exactly where he tells you. Don’t overthink it.”

Eyes in the sky?

“Quinjet set up?” Natasha asked with a glance at Clint. He gave her a droll look. “Fine, don’t get cocky. Tony can track them in stealth mode and while I can probably disable it, we’re just going to use the jammer.” She held that up.

“So you’re the sabotage?” Peter said trying to put it together as he looked at Natasha and she just smiled.

“And I’m the ambush.” Excitement eddied into Wanda’s voice.

“Man, they are not going to know what hit them.” Sam shook his head.

“Their best approach is the blitz attack, full-forward momentum. James will hold something in reserve, though even he will be counting on our being down the heavy hitters. No offense to you two,” Natasha continued motioning to them. She flipped out a device, then snapped it and it gave them a holo screen of the woods and the Compound. “All right, pay attention. We stay _on_ property. No going past the river or the main Compound buildings. Vision will likely be refereeing on the field while the kids stay in the Compound.”

Clint nodded once. “They have their orders.”

“If I were Tony’s team, I’d take a five vector approach.” She highlighted the areas. “Then push to the middle, trying to corral us.” A check of her watch. They had approximately three minutes left.

“How do we prevent that?”

“We hit the strongest vector first,” Natasha said.

“Not the weakest?” Peter frowned. Ms. Carter seemed nice, but she didn’t have enhancements or armor.

“Oh no, that’s a trap.” She and Clint said at the same moment. “Avoid Sharon at all costs.”

“Aww,” Sam complained.

“Keep it in your pants, Sam. You can get a congratulations kiss from her later.” Natasha winked. “Everyone good with the plan?”

Sam gaped at her like a fish.

Peter exhaled, excitement trembling in his blood.

“Get to your spots. Peter stick with Wanda for the first salvos, and then get in there. Remember…what’s your keyword?”

“Evade,” he told her before he dragged his mask on and then the white mesh over it. Wanda tugged down her own white knit cap as Nat did the same, only hers was a full ski-mask and he could only see her eyes, but they vanished behind white goggles.

“Nat…” Clint said. “A word?”

She nodded. “Two minutes.”

“It’ll take 30 seconds.”

Peter frowned as they moved away and Wanda patted his arm. “He wants to make sure she is really okay with this. Touching is still a thing with her.”

He knew that, though, she _seemed_ better. “She’s good,” Peter said.

“You sound sure, Kid.” Sam looked thoughtful.

“I am sure—this is going to be fun. I think she needs it as much as we do.”

Because it _was_ fun.

Whatever she told Clint, he seemed satisfied if not happy. Natasha checked something on her phone and then glanced at Sam. “Sync up. 60 seconds. Get to your places.”

The snowcap around them collapsed as Sam launched with Clint and Peter raced after Wanda leaving Natasha in the middle of the woods.

Thrill pounding through him he said, “Tracking on, Karen?”

“I’m on the lookout, Peter.”

“Channel 2 check,” Clint said and when everyone confirmed he said. “Look lively, Iron Man is making some noise.”

**Sam**

The cloaked quinjet hovered over the woods at a low altitude. Sam got Clint to the ramp and once he got the comm muted, he said, “Are we sure she’s up for this?”

Natasha looked good. Sounded good. But she’d seemed to be white-knuckling it by the end of the night. What color and easy smile she’d demonstrated at the beginning of the dinner seemed to be absent toward the end. While Steve and Bucky hadn’t said a word, their careful watchfulness hadn’t been lost on him.

Wouldn’t have been lost on him even if Steve hadn’t talked in circles before asking him directly about PTSD and Natasha. When Stark and Barnes both showed up for the briefing, he got it. She had survived torture and incarceration, it made sense that it left its marks even if she looked like nothing had happened physically in the scant few days since they rescued her.

Enhanced.

Just like Steve if he were to gamble. Sharon had asked him a similar question before saying, _“You know. Never mind. Better I don’t know.” _It was acts like that which made Sam appreciate her more. Things could be awkward with a capital A, she and Cap had been _almost_ involved, but apparently not really. Now Steve was with Natasha who was also with Bucky and yeah, Sam wasn’t going to spend too much time on the physics of that particular relationship. Particularly not with Tony in the middle of it, too.

But if anyone could repair the damage between Steve and Tony, Natasha seemed the woman for the job. She’d gotten the team back together. Still, they were about to launch into a real wargame even if it was supposed to be in fun. PTSD triggers were funny that way.

It would suck if she got hurt in the middle of this. Enhanced or not, she still had to process her experiences. Sam had pulled Steve aside the night before to discuss the possibility of getting Natasha into one of the group sessions. Damn unlikely, she was far too private. But this was the kind of thing where neutral third parties could _really_ help.

“She’ll be fine,” Clint told him. “Just remember the code phrase. I know Tony and Bucky gave it to Peter and I gave it to Wanda. No arguments just do it.”

Pancakes. If he noticed anything off with Natasha or if she seemed to lock up on the field, pancakes over channel 4. The emergency band. Sam nodded. “Happy hunting.”

With a salute, Clint said, “You too.”

With ten seconds to spare, Sam dropped from the quinjet, wings snapping out. Clint would move it, and keep it moving as he swung over the field.

Channel 1 came to life. “Time for the wargames has begun,” Friday announced. “Point tracking will commence. In the event of an emergency or a call to assemble, I will activate via Channel 1.”

“And gosh darn,” Tony snarked over the channel. “Let’s keep that language clean folks.”

“Tony,” Steve warned and the chatter left the line even as Sam laughed. The distraction nearly worked, he spotted Barnes at the very last second emerging for the trees, rolling he deflected the snowball with his wings, cut upward. Barnes could more than keep up with him on foot, even in the snow. He’d seen that during their first snowball fight.

Sam angled through the woods, accelerating.

“You’ve got Rhodey directly ahead of you Sam,” Clint said over the comm. “You’re approaching him at his 3 o’clock, prepare to fire in 3-2-now.”

First potato gun up, Sam depressed the firing mechanism. War Machine pivoted and took the first two snowballs right in the face. The third one got his repulsors.

“Climb now, Bucky’s right behind you and cut to your right.” Sam accelerated and cut away and Bucky’s snowball overshot him. Whirling, he pulled the other potato gun and opened fire. The lucky bastard dodged two of them, but not the third as Spider-Man suddenly bounded up from behind him and flipped, hitting him the chest with a web full of snow and knocking him on his ass.

“Evade.”

Something pelted his wing and clipped part of his arm, but he was up and over the trees, then diving.

“You’ve got Rhodey on your six, take him to Wanda. You need to reload anyway.” Clint directed. “Peter—Bucky’s right behind you. Don’t go…”

“Not for long,” Peter whooped. “Oh shit.”

“Now you have Bucky and Iron Man—dodge and evade, kid, dodge and evade. Nat’s on her way.”

“Yowch,” Peter’s yelp made Sam wince and he saw the warning of the snownado and went low, snapping his wings shut and rolling to his back to skid on them as the snownado leapt him and blitzed Rhodey. It would white out his visuals and Sam was up, potato guns open for Wanda to reload and then back in the air.

Forty seconds.

Rhodey didn’t follow.

“You’re clear, Sam,” Wanda murmured. “Hang on Peter, Sam is coming, too.”

Yes, he was only—where were Sharon and Steve?

Steve could be damn cagey.

He caught sight of Iron Man and snapped his wings wide even as Tony noticed him. Both guns up, he braced and then fired. The snowballs weren’t going to do much against the armor, but there was something satisfying about watching them pelt Tony’s armor even if they steamed right off.

“Sam, incoming two o’clock, deflect,” Clint said and Sam pivoted mid-air, wings pulling together like a shield as he dropped a few feet. The pelt of snow hitting his wings echoed. He deployed Red Wing to hit the trees right over Bucky’s head and knock the snow onto him.

Smirking, he fixed Red Wing to Bucky’s image then directed him to repeat the process near any dense snow cover. It would buy Sam some time. He was almost to the ground when something slammed into his wings and he pitched forward. The snow cushioned his fall and he came up spluttering to see Sharon giving him an almost apologetic smile.

“Sorry, Sam.” Then she nailed him in the chest even as three more slammed into him.

Rules said five shots and five minutes out of the game. By his calculation, he’d already been up to three when he got hit.

What the hell had…?

“Sam is down,” Clint said. “Peter keep moving north. They’re distracted and you can get clear.”

“Falcon is out of play for four minutes fifty-two seconds,” Friday announced.

What happened to Nat getting there?

“You good Sam?” Steve said, offering him a hand to hall him out of the snow. The shield. That was what hit him.

“I’m great,” he chuckled and let Steve pull him up. Dusting himself off, he said. “I’m going to go wait over there.”

“Four minutes thirty seconds, Wilson,” Tony told him. “Good show there, nice ambush. Anyone got eyes on Red?”

Sam didn’t say a word and just slogged it through the snow.

“Sam will be clear in five…” Clint’s voice hit him.

“Four…” Oh crap.

“Three…”

Natasha was there.

It was everything Sam could not to run.

“Two…”

“Brace Sam.” Clint didn’t have to tell him twice, he slid right up against a tree and slammed a wing up as a shield even as everything in the clearing where he’d been went straight up as a ring of explosions detonated the snow.

Tony took the worst of it but Steve’s shield got pummeled and Bucky vanished into one of the drifts.

Sharon—there. Steve had her blocked her mostly and Rhodey landed in the middle of it.

“Holy crap,” he said, snapping his visor up. “What…?”

Tony straightened abruptly. “Red!” he bellowed. “I know that was you.”

Bucky swam up, shaking the snow off his hair and Steve straightened.

“Are you _all_ out?” Rhodey asked.

Friday came over the channel one. “Current players out: Falcon, 4 minutes ten seconds, Iron Man, Winter Soldier, Agent Carter, 4 minutes 50 seconds.”

Steve had survived that one.

“You better find, Red,” Tony said though his voice held more laughter and wonder than heat.

“All right Pete—let’s see if we can knock…” A series of fast snowballs raced through the air and Steve whirled, shield up. He managed to block three of them and then two hit him from behind even as Rhodey said, “Cap.”

A third one hit Rhodey in the chest then two more hit him in the back.

“Now Captain America and War Machine are out for 4 minutes and fifty seconds.”

Shaking his head, Steve lowered his shield.

“Oh,” Tony called. “It’s _on,_ Red!”

“Go ahead and loop around, Sam,” Clint said. “We’ve got time to regroup.”

“It’s on!” Tony yelled again and Sam had to bite back his own chuckle. Maybe someone should have told Natasha this was all just a game.

Yep. Someone should.

Wasn’t going to be Sam.

**Clint**

Leaning back in the seat, Clint shook his head. He shifted the quinjet’s position slightly relying on stealth mode to keep the engines silent. At least the occasional flurries had given it up for a bit. There was no sign of the sun, which added some camouflage with the lack of glare or light distortion. Team IronCap were currently licking their wounds and backing off from the clearing.

Sam was almost back to Wanda’s position with Peter. He hadn’t seen Nat in a while, but she was down there. His comm beeped and he switched channels as he took a sip of coffee.

“Yes, dear?”

“Explosives, Clint?”

“Not real incendiaries,” he promised Laura. “Everyone is fine.”

“The kids thought it was absolutely hilarious,” she returned drolly.

“Well that should give us humor points on the scoreboard. How are we doing?” He took a sip of his coffee and flipped open the scanner to check for heat signatures. The white suits they were all wearing would insulate them, make them that much harder for Tony and company to track.

But that would only work for so long. The advantage was theirs for now.

“Your team is in the lead, you, Natasha, and Wanda are also the only three with no tags.” They hadn’t been hit yet. By his calculations Peter had two more snowballs before he was out for five minutes.

Because this kind of combat could go on for hours, they’d compromised on the scoring. There was the points system they used in the previous snow battle and there was the in play scoring. Five hits with snow, out for five minutes. Three outs and out of play.

Play continued to the last player, not the last team.

So Sam along with Tony’s whole team only had two outs left to them.

“Cool, gotta go, babe, need to jump back in.”

“Clint?”

He hesitated, gaze on the clock. “Yeah?”

“Is she doing all right?”

Currently? Natasha was in her element. Out maneuvering and out thinking her opponents, several of whom knew her well enough to know better and at least one of which might actually be able to figure out what she was going to do. She’d directed Sam to harass him because Bucky and Sam seemed to enjoy baiting each other and she wanted him distracted.

“She’s good, Laur,” he assured her. Laura hadn’t been happy that Natasha avoided a private conversation with her the night before, though she’d understood. It had been more worry than anything else.

The kids had been a lot for her the night before and after Natasha’s _very_ pointed comment about outing her experiences to Laura, he’d kept the touch sensitivity to himself. His being honest with Laura was important, but Natasha’s secrets and experiences were hers and he got it. Having Laura know, she cared and expressed her concern. It meant Natasha couldn’t take the step back she needed.

Somehow, through some miracle Clint was not going to question too hard, Steve and Bucky weren’t smothering her and even Tony seemed to be giving her room to breathe.

“She’ll talk to you—but don’t push on this one. Just be you.”

“You do realize that _being_ me, I tend to push her?” That facet of his wife’s relationship with his partner had not escaped him. “But I’ll try. I just worry.”

“I know you do. It’s because you care. Now I really gotta go. See you soon.”

The call ended and he checked positions. War Machine and Iron Man stood out, particularly the red and gold armor. They weren’t falling back to regroup, but standing near the edge of the woods facing the main Compound.

Cap and Tony were discussing something, War Machine was watching. But where was…

“Heads up folks, our Winter Soldier has taken a walk.” Stealth was in his wheelhouse and there was no way he hadn’t realized Natasha was behind the ambush. “Sam, you’re back in the game in two minutes two seconds, most of Tony’s team will be right behind you.”

“Time to bait the hook,” Natasha said, her voice a husky whisper.

“Got it,” Clint switched the scanner on the jet to give him a wider topographical view of the woods. “Sending coordinates. We’ve got two really good spots to serve as the trap, Peter…you’re going to have to get close and probably take one for the team to get them on the hook.”

“I can handle it,” Peter said. “Maybe I can even do it without the out.”

“Don’t avoid it too much, it’s better to have them in position. Sam—you may need to flush Bucky out. Wanda do you have a preference?”

“First location,” she said. “There’s a good tree there with dense branches. I can lay on one where they can’t see me.”

“Coordinates locked. Get moving. But watch your six. I don’t see Bucky but that doesn’t mean he can’t see you even if he’s out. Sharon’s apparently playing scarce, too.”

That also made sense.

Natasha had gone quiet. Not at all unusual. But Clint had to wonder how close to the guys was she?

If he had to bet money, he could almost see her a few feet away, just listening to them banter.

His comm chimed as Channel 1 opened, “Falcon with one out may now resume. 40 seconds to Iron Man, Winter Soldier and Agent Carter resuming play.”

“Airborne,” Sam announced.

“In position,” Wanda stated.

“Ready to bait,” Peter answered.

“Iron Man, Winter Soldier—”

“Ouch!” Peter yelped interrupting. “Moving. Got him on me.”

_Him_ had to be Bucky.

“On my way!” Sam told him. Clint shifted and he caught sight of Peter bounding, flipping, and rocketing off trees. Every one he hit dislodged snow, but the cover kept Bucky hidden, despite the lack of foliage.

Sam whipped through, firing his potato guns.

“Captain America and War Machine back in play.”

All the players were on the board.

Peter slid into the clearing just as Iron Man nailed him with a whirlwind.

“Spider-Man out of play 4 minutes 59 seconds.”

“Sorry, Pete,” Tony called. “Time out for you.” Two targets in the field, though Bucky wasn’t visible.

“In five…”

For his part, Peter gave him a thumbs up and bounded out of the circle.

“Four…”

Sharon zipped up on a pair of skis. Oh, now that was an idea.

“Three…”

“Guys,” she called. “Don’t gather together.”

Awww.

“Two…”

Something clanged off the side of the quinjet.

“Hold Wanda, they’re calling me out—fall back. Sam get out of here.”

Another clang and then Tony was facing him, right through the screen. “Sorry Barton—no more eyes in the sky for you.”

The ramp was creaking down.

“No hard feelings, Tony,” Clint said. Then vented the quinjet, releasing all the packed snow from earlier. Rhodey and Tony took it in the face, the snow pelting him, but the back rear hatch opened and then there was Steve.

“Iron Man and War Machine out of play 4 minutes 59 seconds.”

“Sorry, Clint.”

“It’s all good man…” Clint said even as he got hit even as he tapped the pre-programmed command and the quinjet went to land, before locking them out of all systems. The snow was damn cold, but it amused him.

“Hawkeye out of play 4 minutes 59 seconds.”

“We’re going to have to confiscate the quinjet—”

“Good luck with that…” Clint laughed. Leaning back he dusted off some of the snow.

Steve gave him a mild look of exasperation even if he was still smiling. “Buck, you found her yet? Clint shut down their comm in here, not going to be able to track her that way.”

Taking a sip of his coffee, he waved as Steve saluted him and jogged back out of the quinjet.

Yep.

Good luck finding her.

He checked his time and waited.

“Sam!”

“Agent Carter out of play 4 minutes and 59 seconds.”

Clint laughed.

“Oh man!” Sam bellowed. “Damn Steve, that was cold.”

“Falcon out of play 4 minutes and 59 seconds.”

Yep, Clint took another sip of the coffee and checked the woods. Wanda was still out of sight. Good girl. Nat would watch her back.

**Wanda**

She clung to the tree even as the quinjet landed and Tony landed a beat behind it, steam rolling off his armor as he tried to clear the snow. Biting down against her gloved hand, she had to suppress the laughter. Steve was still down there; he’d just taken down the jet with a little assist from Iron Man and War Machine, though they were out. Sharon was also out of play, but then Steve got Sam.

Peter had disappeared into the woods, but he was also out of play. That left her and Natasha against Steve and Bucky. Wanda did not want to risk tipping the odds. So far, neither she nor Natasha had actually been seen. Though Natasha had actually been the one to nail Steve in the back.

She had to have been.

Tongue pressed against her teeth, she held still. Clint had told her earlier, the hardest part of hit and run style fighting was the waiting. She could scoop snow and pelt Steve right now. Everyone else in the clearing was already out. But she couldn’t see Bucky, and he’d managed to tag Peter before Peter spotted him. If anything, holding still as she tried to look without looking was a little on the impossible side.

Sam, Tony, Rhodey, and Sharon all had two outs. So if she played her cards right, she could put three of Tony’s team out of the game entirely if she just hung here and they didn’t move before they were back in the game.

“I have no idea man, are you actually trying to get me to flip on my team lead?” Sam asked as he grinned at Steve.

With a shrug, Steve said, “Just asking. No harm.”

“Uh huh. I see how it is.” Sam wagged a finger at him. “Anyway, I’m outta here before I’m back in play.”

She bit back another smile.

“She’s got to be hiding somewhere,” Tony said as Sam slipped away. The quinjet was grounded; they wouldn’t be taking it back up. The stealth lost the element of surprise once it had been discovered. Wanda almost missed Clint exiting the back. He disappeared so fast, she thought might have imagined it.

A tapping sounded over the comm. Dashes and dots. Oh crap. Morse code. Um…Natasha had tried to teach this to her once. Wanda really hadn’t been paying attention.

More dashes and dots and she had no idea. If she said anything, she’d give away her location.

Something whistled through the air and there was a flashbang, sending up a cloud of snow. It was right below her and she spotted Bucky against the side of the tree with a grimace on his face.

Crap!

Wanda leapt, pushing with her powers and flinging herself away from the tree.

“Steve!” Bucky called and she didn’t have to look to know Steve was going to be coming or her.

Throwing up a field, she blocked Steve’s shield hurtling for her. In the snow, she threw her hands down and knocked up a wave of it before lifting off and catapulting away.

But they were fast. She’d learned this lesson.

A snowball clipped her arm and she swung a hand out sending a cascade of snow off one of the trees. Steve managed to block it with his shield. She pushed on; she was never going to make it.

“Duck,” Natasha ordered. “Shield.” Wanda threw up the shield as a series of charges went off around her sending up plumes of snow. Bucky dodged, but he still got pelted.

“Winter Soldier is out of play 4 minutes 59 seconds.”

Laughing, Bucky stood up and dusted the snow off. “Vy deystvitel'no khotite porku, kotyonok!”

Wanda’s cheeks heated at the playful suggestion Natasha really wanted to get spanked. Though kitten was an adorable nickname she would _never_ ever repeat to Natasha. Even as she filed the rest of the statement away for another afternoon of girl talk. Not that she had time to linger. She’d forgotten Steve was still there and the time was running down on the other players.

“Sorry Wanda,” Steve called as his shield swung through the air, she lifted her hands but she’d never divert it in time, but before it could strike the tree next to her and dumping her with snow the shield curved off course and Natasha sprung out of nowhere, caught the shield against her wrist with a clang—she had one of his magnetized wrist bands!—and tumbled.

“Tsk, tsk Rogers. I’m always cleaning up after you boys.”

Wanda flicked her hands forward and sent a wave of snow to hit Steve square in the chest.

“Captain America out of play 4 minutes and 59 seconds.”

Bucky burst out laughing all over again and Steve just sat there dusting the snow out of his beard. Still masked, Natasha blew them a kiss.

“Let’s go Wanda.”

Giggling, Wanda caught her hand and then sent them both up and out of the trees.

“You’re keeping the shield?” she asked when they landed and Natasha grinned.

“Spoils of war.”

Laughing, she jogged along beside her. They didn’t have much time. “You know they’re all going to be coming after you, right?”

“Us, Wanda. We’re the only ones with no outs.” She winked. “You let me worry about them coming after me. I’ll line them up. You knock them out.”

Natasha checked her wristband.

Sam swooped by and whistled as he landed. “Nice shield.”

“I know, right?” Natasha’s smile was wickedly amused. “Wanda, we need to work on your Morse code.”

“I know, you were probably telling me Bucky was there, right?”

“Hmm. Hmm.”

“Spider-Man is back in play.”

“The kid’s with me,” Clint said, his voice low over the comm. “They’re regrouping and I think Tony’s bringing out the big guns.”

Big guns? Wanda and Sam shared a look.

“The Iron Legion,” Natasha said slowly and instead of looking worried, she seemed pleased.

“This is not a good thing,” Sam told her.

“Wow,” Peter whispered over the comm. “I think he brought all of them.”

Natasha winked. “It’s gonna be fun. Bait the hook again.”

“Where are you going?” Wanda stared at her. “It’s a trap.”

“I know…” Natasha called over her shoulder. “I’m going to spring the trap.”

**Sharon**

“They’re using guerilla warfare tactics,” she said, trying to get the snow out of her collar while ignoring the cold drip of it along her back. “Shouldn’t you two Howling Commandos be better at this?”

Bucky grinned. “We’re not trying to win.”

“Wait a minute,” Tony wheeled around. “What?”

With a shrug, Bucky ran fingers through his soaking wet hair. There hints of ice crystals forming along the ends. “Not really trying to win. It’s a game.”

“With a bet riding on it,” Tony argued.

“No one told you to make that bet, Tony,” Steve reminded him, clapping him on the shoulder.

With narrowed eyes, Tony scowled at them. “You both said it would be fun.”

“I’m having a great time,” Steve said then rubbed his wrist and glanced toward the woods. “Be better when I get my shield back.”

“You can track your shield,” Tony pointed out. “Friday, bring up the legion and get them ready to deploy.”

“Woah,” Rhodey wheeled around. “Dude, that’s cheating.”

“No, as Red would say, that’s resource management. I’ve got it to use and she knows I do.”

Sharon opened her mouth to argue the point, and then closed it again. Based on what she knew of Natasha. She would definitely know Tony might pull in the legion. “It does feel a bit like overkill.”

“We’ve all got one out left each,” Tony said. “So if we want to even the playing field, we’ve got to tag Red out at least twice and Wanda the same.”

“Yeah you keep telling yourself that, Tony,” Rhodey said. “We could also throw in the towel and let them have the win…then we can get some triumphant hot cocoa before I have to catch my flight.”

“Let them have it?” Tony eyed him.

Movement to the east caught Sharon’s attention, a flash of red amongst the white. If Natasha was letting herself be seen, she wanted to be seen. Bucky’s whole stance had shifted. He’d also noticed the movement.

“We’re not throwing the match,” Steve said. “If Nat wins, she’ll do it fair and square.”

“No, it’ll be down and dirty,” Bucky argued. “But the principle applies.”

The movement snared Tony’s attention and Steve’s—hard to miss when Natasha came strolling right up the edge of the woods.

“You guys doing all right?” she called. With maybe a minute left before Tony and Rhodey were back in play, she really was waving a red flag at a bull.

“I’m on to you, Red,” Tony called. “Spy whammy—dirty fighting tricks.”

“All fighting is dirty, Tony,” she reminded him, her bemused expression betraying nothing. She also had Steve’s shield on her back, another splash of color against her all white outfit.

“You forgot the part where this is a game,” he reminded her.

Steve snorted.

“Games have winners and losers,” she retorted. “Besides—you’re having fun or you wouldn’t be protesting so loudly. You’d just be gritting your teeth and getting it over with.”

To which the billionaire responded to by sticking out his tongue.

“You having fun, kotyonok?” Bucky called, his expression and tone definitely amused.

“Tak sebe,” she answered and not for the first time, Sharon wished she had a few more languages than the romance ones—French, Spanish, and Italian were useful and she did a passable German but anything east of Austria and she ran into issues. Though the so-so gesture with her hand was utterly at odds with the mirth on Natasha’s face.

“Fair warning, Natasha, Iron Man and War Machine return to play in 30 seconds.”

“Et tu, Baby Girl?” Tony mocked, clasping a hand to his chest.

Unperturbed, Natasha leaned against the tree, arms folded as if she had all the time in the world. Steve canted his head and he glanced from Natasha to Tony and then back again.

Wait.

Natasha had to know how much time and that Tony had the legion prepped—they were lining up on the field.

“Vy khotite sdelat' eto interesnym?” Bucky asked. Seriously, crash course in Russian might be necessary, though Bucky’s teasing expression suggested he might be upping their bet.

Natasha’s smirk promised nothing but trouble. “Vy zakonchili balovat' menya?”Something flashed on the display of Sharon’s wrist. Oh, bless Friday, she was translating. _You done pampering me?_

“Da,” Bucky said. That needed no translation.

“Togda prinesi eto na bol'shogo mal'chika. YA uveren, chto vy skazali, chto vy dvoye mogli by spravit'sya so mnoy,” she retorted with a flick of a look toward Steve. _Then bring it on big boy. I thought you said you two could handle me._

Oh. A dare and tease. Sharon glanced from Natasha to Bucky to Steve.

She’d put it together but—

“Iron Man and War Machine back in play.”

Tony’s armor snapped shut. “Legion…”

The legion surged forward and Bucky eyed them then her. Even Steve shifted his weight. The armored bots raced toward her and Natasha held up a hand. “Stop.”

Every single one of them ceased motion.

“Override. My authorization.” Her expression grew almost blissful. “Now shut up and dance.”

The Macarena blasted out and every single member of the legion began _dancing_. Laughter and shock waged battle within Sharon and she couldn’t stop. The song made it through a couple of refrains with everyone gaping before Natasha held up her hand again.

“Take a nap.”

The legion shut down and Tony’s armor snapped open. “Wait—you’re not supposed to be able to do that.”

“Sorry Tony, I hear misfires can be a common problem at your…”

The sonic blast from his repulsors sent a massive wave of snow over her from the ground and from the trees burying her in at least a couple of feet of the powder.

“Black Widow out of play 4 minutes and 59 seconds.”

Natasha threw her head back and laughed.

“They’re crazy,” Rhodey said bluntly. Even Bucky laughed as he waded across the snow to help haul her out of the mess.

“Hmm… Baby Girl, you and I are going to have a talk about this buddy buddy business.”

“Hawkeye back in play.”

Natasha laughed, as Bucky swiped at the snow on her sides and she dusted off. Even her hair was wet.

Tony grumbled something about old comments.

“Falcon back in play.”

“Agent Carter back in play.”

“Well, let’s go, we have to find the rest of her team.”

Running her gloves through her damp hair and shaking it out some, Natasha said, “Awww, I thought you liked my company, Tony.”

“Spy. Whammy.” Tony pointed a finger at her as he took off. “Bad Red. Send the legion back if they can’t play.”

She grinned. “Friday, you heard him. Send them home.”

One by one, the legion powered up and started lifting off.

“Don’t suppose you’ll give us any tips, Romanoff?” Sharon joked.

“Roll on my team?” She grinned. “Never happening.”

“Didn’t think so.” Sharon adjusted and stomped her boots, deploying the power skis Tony had provided her that morning. “Gentlemen—don’t let her distract you too long.”

“Too late,” Steve retorted. “But we kind of like it.” He plucked the shield off her back even as Natasha grinned at him.

Yeah, she’d guessed that part, too.

“Any day now, Agent Carter, we have only a few minutes with Red out of play, we need to take full advantage.”

“I’m coming, Stark, don’t get your panties in a twist. That may have contributed to the earlier issue.”

There was a beat of silence. “And I was _this close _to starting to like you.”

Sharon grinned. “You’ll get over it.”

“Incoming Tony, heads up…”

**Rhodey**

Later, when he looked back on this day, it was a time he could point to when the team clicked. Not just parts of the team, but the whole team. While they’d all been straining, trying to find an actual accord with each other after doing some serious damage to all their personal relationships, there had been a lingering uneasiness between the various team members.

Honestly, Rhodey never expected to see Tony getting along with Steve so well or coordinating such a smooth strategy as they had against Wanda. Not even after finding out the pair had conspired to hide Natasha while she was still fugitive. Wanda held them both off, but they got her out with an assist from Rhodey. After that—Sam was done and Sharon followed him. Clint proved almost as cagey as Nat, but Bucky got him for his second out while Tony snagged Spider-Man but only after Spider-Man knocked Rhodey out—for which he was more than happy to retreat to the warmth of the inside.

Wanda and Nat only had one out each, but when Wanda sacrificed an out to protect Natasha from a series of flurries from Steve and Bucky. Putting them at 2-1. Clint and Natasha took Tony out of play much to Tony’s disgruntlement—which lasted only about thirty seconds before he laughed—Natasha had literally leapt out of a _tree _to whack Tony with the last snowball. Steve and Bucky went after Clint, but Natasha intercepted the hits and she took the out. It was down to the five of them. Three on Nat’s team and two on Tony’s—in the form of Steve and Bucky.

It stunned Rhodey to realize they’d been at this for nearly two and a half hours when he got inside. At the three and a half hour mark, he started to wonder if they’d ever wrap this up.

Tony had money on Red, a bet Rhodey wasn’t going to take. But Sam ponied up money on Bucky—a fact Rhodey would share later. Finally Clint went down, then Wanda but in the same moment that she got Steve.

Bucky and Nat were the last two on the field. They took forever, pausing at one point to cheerfully insult each other in Russian. At least, Rhodey assumed they were insults. Friday wasn’t translating for everyone but Clint kept laughing at the comments.

“Crap,” Tony said. “We’re going to be here all day.”

Not quite.

Still, Rhodey had to wait until after lunch to get his hot cocoa. When the match did end, Friday declared it a tie—because Bucky and Natasha had taken each other out at the same time.

Yeah, someday, maybe someone should explain to those two that it was all a game.

“Well Hell,” Tony said facing them. “If it’s a tie, who wins the wager?”

Or maybe someone should explain that to Tony.

Oh, look at the time. Rhodey had to go.

He snagged his hot cocoa on the way out the door, pausing long enough to look at the common room and dining area packed with people, the team, kids running around, and everyone laughing.

It had been a long time since the team felt like a team.

Rescuing Natasha brought them all back together, blurring the broken pieces and creating new seams.

But this?

This was what a team looked like. Probably the best Christmas present for all of them whether they were aware of it or not. Definitely a good one for his best friend. Tony's laughter no longer held the sharp barbed-edge and the lines around his eyes had eased. 

Rhodey may not have approved of how they handled some of the journey here, but he wasn't complaining about the destination at all. With a light heart, he headed off to see his other family confident this one could take care of each other in his absence.


	20. Consulting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange makes a house call

**Chapter Twenty**

**Consulting**

**Natasha**

Hands braced against the tile wall, she bowed her head under the hot water and let it just roll over her.

“We can go, Natalia,” James offered from where he leaned against the counter. The shower in her suite at the Compound boasted a shower stall with clear walls rather than a curtain.

“I’m fine, James,” she shifted and turned her back to the water as she ran some shampoo through her hair. “I was just cold and a little tired. You could have thrown those snowballs a little gentler.”

She couldn’t even chide him with a straight face.

His snort of derision made her laugh. “As if. You left a bruise the size of my fist with one of the ones you nailed me with and you weren’t just aiming at my body armor.”

Glancing at him, she met his dry gaze and grinned. He’d showered first while she sat on the counter and drank hot tea. The battle ended with the two of them out there for far longer than the rest of the teams. “If I hadn’t you would have accused me of going too light on you and wasting opportunities.”

“Good thing I’m not complaining about you going soft then, isn’t it?” He raked his gaze over her. “That from when Tony hit you with the avalanche?”

She twisted and glanced at her hip. It was an interesting bruise. “Maybe? I barely feel it but then I’m just now thawing out. Doesn’t really hurt.”

Another nod.

Then he tilted his head. “We’re in here,” he called as she dipped her head under the spray. The door opened and Steve stuck his head inside.

“In or out,” she said with a laugh. “But keep the warm air in.”

James shifted to make room as Steve came in and then he leaned back against the door. “You planning to live in there?”

“James took his shower first,” she said with a roll of her eyes. The buzz under her skin muted some under the pound of the water. She’d barely felt it at all while in the field. It had been almost perfect. The silence. Moving as quietly as she could, slipping through the trees, blending into the snow.

“Natalia had tea,” James told him. She worked the conditioner into her curls and studied Steve. His hair was damp. The long-sleeved shirt he wore hugged his chest and he was back in jeans. His tactical suit, like hers, probably hanging to dry. “Or she would have already showered.”

And she needed a little time away from the chaos in the common areas. The explosion of sound when she and James came in from the hush of the snow had hit her like a tidal wave. There had to be a way to push past all of this. She’d had terrible missions before and recovered.

She always did.

After rinsing the conditioner, she finally shut off the water. The quiet seemed to make the buzzing louder. Maybe that was why all the voices laughing, teasing, and playing had struck like a cacophony.

“Angel…” Steve’s voice dragged her gaze up and she pushed open the door to accept the towel he offered. She wrapped it around her hair before he passed her the second one. “We can go…”

It was exactly what James had offered. “I don’t think that’s fair to them.”

“You know I really don’t care about _them_,” James told her flatly. “I care about you.”

“You do care about them,” she said as she stepped out and began toweling off. The bathroom wasn’t huge, but they weren’t cramped either. Fortunately, having both of them there didn’t crowd her. That was something. She’d take what she could get.

Dry, she hung the towel up and then stretched past James to reach her lotion. He didn’t move or try to hold her, but she felt the weight of his gaze.

“You get that when Tony hit you with that snow blast?” Steve motioned to her hip.

“I don’t know, maybe. Doesn’t hurt.” It was a bruise. Those healed fast enough. She began running lotion over her arms.

“All right,” Steve said, accepting the answer. “Give me the plan…”

A chime sounded and all three of them looked up. “Yes, Friday?” Natasha asked as she propped her foot on the edge of the closed toilet to run lotion on her legs.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Natasha. Doctor Strange would like a word.”

James and Steve both stiffened. “In person or is he on the phone?”

“In person. He was calling to find out if he could portal to you…”

She glanced at herself and snorted. “So glad he actually called first. Ask him for twenty minutes? I need to get dressed and I need to eat.”

“I will let him know—should I inform Boss and Mr. Barton?”

Probably. She rubbed the back of her neck. “Let them know I’m going to meet with him—here. He can meet us…?” She glanced at Steve. “Conference room again or here?”

“I’d rather the wizard didn’t have a visual lock on your quarters, Natalia.” James didn’t wait for Steve’s opinion.

“He can apparently portal to me wherever I am…”

“And it’s very noticeable when he does,” James countered. “Not your quarters. Even if you don’t stay here that often.”

“Not going to disagree, let’s keep it the conference room for now?” Steve stated. “What do you want to eat? I can fix you something here if you’d like.”

“The conference room, Friday and twenty minutes. He can check with you ahead of time if it’s not too much of an inconvenience.”

“Of course, I’ll take care of it. Resuming privacy mode.”

She set the lotion down then pulled the towel from her hair.

“Nat?” Steve prompted.

“Um—I don’t even remember what we have out there.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

The look he exchanged with James wasn’t subtle. After hanging up the other towel, she trailed after both of them leaving the bathroom. Steve headed for the kitchen, but Natasha went to her closet. The jangling sensation grew more obnoxious. For all the energy she’d burned, she suddenly longed for taped hands and a speed bag.

Maybe an hour would quiet it down.

“Whatever it is,” James said quietly. “Whatever his news… we’ll deal with it.”

“I don’t—I don’t know what would be the bad news.” She pulled out a soft kind of flowy tunic with long sleeves and a pair of yoga pants. “I don’t—I don’t know what I want him to say.”

Truthfully, she had no idea. Originally, clearing her and telling Tony it would be safe to let her use BARF seemed ideal. Even that seemed unlikely. In the event Stephen did tell her that, she doubted Tony would say yes. Having something he made hurt anyone went against who he was now. Asking him to let her hurt herself with it, even with a purpose, seemed cruel.

Panties, bra, top and pants on, she dug out a pair of socks and then stuffed her feet into Uggs, they were warm on the inside and insulated. James said nothing as she wound the chain of Steve’s dog tags over her neck. The bracelet was locked into place. She left her hair to dry on its own and skipped cosmetics.

Sure she could put on a face, but she didn’t want to.

“Is telling me he can fix it but it requires surgery a good thing? Or he can fix it, but it requires any kind of procedure the good news? Or it will heal on its own eventually? I don’t—I don’t know.” And once she had his recommendations and diagnosis, she had a phone call to make. One she actually wasn’t looking forward to despite how she played it for everyone else.

“Whatever he says,” Steve responded as he flipped a grilled ham and cheese sandwich over on the stove. The scent struck her and made her mouth water. Her stomach released a vociferous growl that actually earned an amused look from James. “We’ll deal with it.” Sandwich done, he added it to the plate of one he’d already cooked before passing both over to her.

“James just said the same thing,” she pointed out. She picked up the slightly cooler of the two sandwiches and took a bite as Steve got another pair of sandwiches going.

“Well, he’s been known to be smart occasionally,” Steve commented and James thumped him without a word before pulling out glasses and filling them with water. “But he’s right,” Steve continued, glancing over his shoulder as she took another bite. “At the risk of smothering you, we’re not going anywhere. No matter where this goes… we’re with you.”

_‘til the end of the line_ went unspoken but she heard it nonetheless. What if the end of the line was a worse place than they already had been? That was the problem in not knowing. Clint’s questions, his worry, she got it. The same with James when he expressed his desire for her to stop pushing. Steve wanted to help, to be there, to support facing the past. How Tony wanted to fix it. He wanted assurance that if she used BARF it wouldn’t hurt her more. They all wanted the answers.

The problem? Life was pain. Some of her good mood from the morning diminished.

“Don’t brood,” James advised. “We’re better at it.” He motioned to himself and Steve.

She snorted. “I’m good at everything.”

“For the most part,” he agreed, setting a glass of water in front of her as she finished the first sandwich. Steve stacked another couple of sandwiches on a plate for James then started on a third pair.

“You know I let you make it a draw, right?” She eyed him.

“You know I wasn’t trying to win, right?” he countered.

“You know, you two aren’t going to do this, right?” Steve said firmly. “You two—work better together than in opposition. You’re too competitive.”

“Yes, but Tony doesn’t ever want us to be on the same team, he’s worried about the imbalance of power.”

James smirked. “You and me, Doll, against everyone else.”

Natasha laughed, almost as much for Steve’s groan as for James’ idea. “Maybe urban warfare…” James’ eyes lit up the suggestion and they both looked at Steve.

“No.”

“C’mon Stevie…”

“No.”

Raising his eyebrows, James looked at her. “Natalia, work your magic.”

“No,” Steve repeated, then pointed at her before she could open her mouth. “N.O. Angel. I want the team to still be a team when we’re done and you two would take apart their confidence not to mention their pride.”

Taking another bite of her sandwich, she avoided saying anything.

“Kind of like whatever it was you did to the Iron Legion.” Steve gave her a speculative look, turning off the stove after plating his own sandwiches. James had torn through his at speed and she was taking her time on the second one. But they were _so_ good. They needed something else to go with them. “Don’t suppose you want to share how you did that?”

“No, but I would share a huge thing of chili fries and a strawberry shake—no mint chocolate chip—or German chocolate. Just a big shake. Course, you both eat more than me, so maybe I’ll just pay and we can devour them.”

“In other words, Stevie,” James said with a grin. “No, she’s not going to share.”

“I’m serious,” Natasha said. “Chili fries sounds fantastic right now. French fries, too. Really just any kind of fry.”

“And milkshakes,” James tacked on and she nodded.

“And milkshakes.”

Steve chuckled. “The American diner out by the state highway?”

Oh. Now that sounded good. “They make those big fat burgers with all the bacon.”

“Yes, they do and chili fries and milkshakes.”

She finished her sandwich then licked her fingers. “Hurry up,” she motioned toward his sandwiches, not that Steve was eating slowly.

The fact she’d devoured the two sandwiches was great, but now she wanted to head to the diner. Not that they didn’t have to go to the meeting, but as soon as it was over…

“You want it?” Steve held out the last half of his second sandwich.

“Nope. I want chili cheese—”

“—fries and milkshakes. Got it.” He took another bite of the sandwich and stacked up the plates while Natasha drained her water.

“Should I grab our coats so we can slip out as soon as Strange is done?” James offered.

Natasha grinned. “You love me.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I do. But that’s not why you’re grinning at the moment.”

“It’s about sixty percent of the reason,” she countered and it was Steve’s turn to laugh.

“If only you were a French fry, Buck, you’d have all of her attention.” That earned Steve a shove and she grinned. Hanging on that bit of mood elevation with both fists, she followed them on the way to the door.

Meeting with Stephen, then burgers and fries.

And milkshakes.

Huh…a hot fudge sundae sounded pretty good, too.

~~~

The trip from the residential hall to the administrative took them through the common area. Wanda was carrying a plate with pirozhkis on it along with a mug of tea toward the sofa. Her hair was piled on her head in a loose ponytail and her grin was wide. More—she sported a pair of black rings on each of her hands.

Natasha blew out a breath. They were dark, not gold and they didn’t glow and better—they were something familiar for Wanda even if they made Natasha's stomach roll briefly. She focused on her face, not her hands.

“Are you guys leaving?” Disappointment edged the words.

“Just going to a meeting, might step out for a bit, but might be back.” Though they could also go do some recon with Peter.

“Might?” Wanda flicked a look toward Steve and then James before returning to Natasha. “I miss when you lived here.”

“I’ll try to stop being such a stranger,” Natasha told her.

“No,” Wanda set her tea and plate down, then turned to take her hands. “I don’t mean it that way, really. I’m just—they’re all _guys_, Natasha.”

The faint feeling of the rings against her fingers sent alarm along her nerves, but she shut it out. Wanda was not her enemy and Wanda wearing some rings again was a _good_ thing. “I know,” she said slowly. “We really can't hold hat against them. You have Laura and Lila here for the moment. Sharon, too, at least until she and Sam leave for the holidays. I kind of have plans tomorrow—and I still have some shopping to do.”

“It’s okay, I’m being selfish, all things being equal.” Wanda released her and then said, “And now I’m holding you up.”

“We’ll figure it out, I have my phone back. But I will stop being such a stranger.”

“Thanks… if you’re looking Peter, I think he’s with Tony in one of the labs or at least that was where they were headed a little while ago.”

Peter could stay in the lab. The distraction would be good. “You okay?” Aware Wanda might not say anything in front of Steve and James, she added, “You can call me, you know that right? Anytime. I have my phone and Friday can track me down if necessary.”

“I will call. Maybe training next weekend? After you’ve had more time to rest?”

Natasha paused, eyebrows raised. “Did I look like I needed rest when I was out there?”

“Nope, but I figured you guys have holiday plans and then the holiday stuff here, so maybe after we’ve rested _all_ up?”

“You got it.” As much as she wanted to stay, she glanced toward the hall. “I have to…”

“It’s fine. I’ll see you later,” she said then grinned toward Steve and James. “Maybe. I know you’ve got a lot to keep you busy.”

“Don’t start,” Natasha said with a roll of her eyes and gave her a squeeze and then headed toward the admin hall. Not even Wanda's teasing seemed to ease either Steve or James' worry. Clint and Tony were waiting for them in the conference room. Clint lifted his chin toward her and pushed out the chair next to him.

“I come bearing coffee,” he said gesturing to the oversized cup.

“We come bearing coffee,” Tony pointed out.

“Since I went to get it…” Clint said. “_I_ brought the coffee.”

“You went because I suggested it,” Tony snarked. “But I’ll let you have fifty percent of the credit.”

“Gracious at losing after all, I see,” Clint poked at him and Natasha snorted.

“Be nice,” she told them as she settled into the chair and then checked the coffee. Peppermint mocha. “Where did you get this?” The closest Starbucks was…

“We have a quinjet,” Clint said with a smirk. “Trust me, the kids loved it.”

Natasha’s eyes widened. “You took the kids to get coffee at Starbucks in a quinjet?” Was he insane?

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He lifted his own. “I might have just taken a trip about five miles north where they opened a new one off the interstate.”

She chuckled.

“Which you wouldn’t have known was there without me,” Tony stated, a StarkPad in front of him as he leaned back in the chair. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Steve hid a smile as he settled in the chair next to hers, but James didn’t sit. Watchful and wary, he leaned against the wall. Yeah, she wasn’t a fan of the portals either, so she got it.

“Thank you both, let’s not spoil my coffee by arguing about it.”

“Okay, let’s argue about this.” Tony sat forward and flipped the StarkPad around. “Where did you get into the Legion’s code?”

“Where or when?” Natasha took a sip of the coffee and appreciated the sweetness.

“You are trying to drive me crazy, aren’t you?”

“Not a long trip,” Clint commented and then smirked at Tony’s glare.

Before anyone else could dive in, Friday chimed overhead. “Doctor Strange is ready to portal in, if you’re ready Natasha.”

The ease of laughter and the relaxation all vanished. Slowing her breathing, she concentrated on keeping it even. Not quite sniper breathing, but close. “Thank you, Friday.”

Not one full minute later the gold circle appeared. Tony shifted the StarkPad and Clint moved his chair away from the table. She didn’t doubt for an instant if Clint was armed or if Tony was scanning the portal. James leaned against the wall, halfway between her and the circle and Steve stayed right where he was.

They all seemed to like Stephen, but interestingly none of them trusted him.

Not that she trusted him—much. Huh. She turned that particular thought over in her head as the cloak arrived sans Stephen. She chuckled. “You lost?”

The cloak turned sharply as though it were being worn.

“Or is he invisible?”

If a cloak could shrug, she was pretty sure it had before it turned to face the portal. Clint and Tony leaned sideways as they both stared through to the cluttered living room with antique furniture from the camelback sofa to the Queen Anne tables to the fainting couch.

Finally, Stephen appeared striding through the opening with her thick file and what looked like a bag one used to house a bowling ball. He set it on the table along with the file, then dismissed his portal before sliding off the sling ring and tucking it away.

“Good afternoon,” he said, eyeing all of them before focusing on her. “It’s always good that you bring reinforcements to a doctor’s appointment.”

“Well, when you’ve seen the kind of doctors I have, it doesn’t hurt to have a little backup. Besides…saves me time having to tell the same story over and over. I really hate repeating myself.”

A faint smirk quirked his lips. He rested one scarred hand on her file and the other on the leather bag. The cloak eased over to stand next to him and he slanted a look at it and it backed off a step. Something told Natasha the cloak wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Do you feel comfortable with me sharing all of this with your guests or do you want us to take a minute to go over it first?” He kept his tone dead neutral. Doc had skills. She had no idea if this was good news or not. Course, he also had no emotional investment. Part of what she liked about him. “I have no problems repeating myself.”

“It’s fine just get on with it. Good news. Bad news. In-between news. What does my brain tell you?”

“That every person who ever had anything to do with the equipment used on you should be shot.”

“Most of them have been,” she said drily.

“You stabbed a few,” James said.

“And blew up a few others,” Clint added.

“Good.” Stephen nodded once. “Based on your scans and the overload we managed, I would say that part of the issue is repeated exposure to those devices created a layer of scar tissue in your brain. Now if you know anything about how the brain works and functions, it doesn’t usually form scar tissue there. Scar tissue is by its own nature, fibrous, thick, and rigid. It lacks the elasticity of normal muscle and tendon much less more sensitive brain matter. The brain is 40% gray matter and 60% white. The gray is comprised of a hundred billion neurons gathering and transmitting signals while the white matter is composed of dendrites and axons that those neurons use to transmit the signals. The brain is about seventy-five percent water and if you were to lay the blood vessels in your brain end to end it would be about a hundred thousand miles long.”

“Well, Doc, you’d totally kill it at _Jeopardy_,” Tony said. “Are we arriving at a diagnosis anytime soon?”

“Mr. Stark, if I were to ask you to explain to me why your suit functions as it does, could you sum it up in a sentence?”

“Yes,” Tony retorted. “I’m a genius.”

“Well,” Stephen said. “As long as you’re certain.”

Natasha took a swallow of coffee to cover a smile. For some reason, the snappiness helped.

“Of course, I’m certain. Is the scar tissue affecting the gray or the white matter?”

“Does the nanotechnology you’re using for your suits invade your whole system or only your circulatory?”

“If the issue was with my suit, I’d have fixed it already.”

“Tony,” Natasha said quietly and he blew out a breath before leaning back in the chair. “Stephen?”

The doctor reoriented his attention on her. “There is a reason I need to give you this explanation. Bear with me?”

She nodded once.

“The neocortex, or language center, comprises about seventy-six percent of your brain. This is important because this is the area that controls higher-order brain functions such as sensory perception, cognition, and generation of motor commands, spatial reasoning and language. Yours is in—what I would call at least—exceptional condition.”

“You’re a genius, Red, welcome to the club.”

“I was here first, Shellhead. Get in line.”

His smirk was worth it, but she kept her attention on Stephen. He was taking them on a very roundabout journey to get to the point.

“This is the reason you continue to function, learn, reason, and generally serve to complete all of the tasks you choose for yourself and likely part of the reason your reactions are so precise and performed at enhanced speeds.” He paused a moment, then tapped his fingers against the file. “The areas affected by the machine, the scarred regions where the tissue has stiffened and become inflexible. This is, as I mentioned before, to see more likely in a patient suffering from a coma or traumatic brain injury. You do have one, a significant one. You’re also suffering from PCS—persistent concussion syndrome.”

Significant enough to leave signs even with how she healed.

Steve shifted in the chair, but James hadn’t moved.

“I have one question for you…”

“Just one?” Natasha was impressed.

“Do you have full recall of what you remembered while in the MRI?”

The drive to New York. The apartment in Brooklyn. Scouring the newspapers. Mary Elizabeth playing with her toys. “Yes.”

“No blurring or fuzzing? No fading to where you don’t quite recall it anymore?”

“No, I remember it. Pretty much like it happened when I remembered it.” Like it had been just days since she played with her baby, not decades. The ache of that burrowed through her. “There were others—other episodes where I don’t quite remember—it’s been coming back in pieces. I had an episode here a few weeks ago, and I remembered why last night. Or at least what I was remembering. I just didn’t have context for it, not fully.”

“Can you think of any episodes where you didn’t quite remember but were later able to?”

“If you count a nightmare, I know I was disturbed by it for a few days, but when I finally got it back…the full piece of it, I remembered that I’d almost recalled it before—which sounds weird because I was dreaming.”

“Not as weird as you might think. This is good. The scans show that triggering episodes activates repairs to that area of the brain. It tells me we can reverse some, maybe even most of the damage done.”

She would not get her hopes up. “But?” There was an audible yet unspoken but at the end of that sentence.

“But—the process may cause you excruciating pain as old tissue is sloughed off and new tissue is formed. The human brain—once it’s fully developed—generally does not regenerate. Reestablishing blood flow, reconnecting dendrites and axons, allowing neurons to fire through spaces they haven’t been able to before—it will be very much… I’m afraid I only have a really poor analogy for you. If you were to put a watch on, you would be aware of it but eventually sensitivity to it is muted, but you remain aware of it being there. If you were to put a burning watch on, you would feel the scald to your skin. The violent burning. The pain though—would eventually overload your neural receptors and you wouldn’t feel it anymore at all because you would be incapable of _feeling_ it.”

Raging pain igniting over her system, lighting up every nerve ending until she couldn’t see for the white-hot sensations of being flayed alive.

“Numbness ensues. You wouldn’t feel temperature shifts much less being hurt again or burned again…but regenerate the flesh, heal the burn, restore nerve function…”

“…and air on your skin is like acid being poured on it.” She was very well aware of the analogy. “Pretty close Doc,” she murmured, then lifted her cup and drained what was left of the coffee. Too bad it wasn’t vodka. “Been there. Done that.”

He actually looked mildly green, but his eyes? They were incensed.

“So what you’re telling me—my brain is going to feel like that?”

“I believe so,” he said slowly. “The neurons are there, they’ve been firing for years, but hitting barriers, they’ve literally inflamed the areas around them to the point it is likely numb. You said you used Mr. Stark’s device and you fell into a coma? But after the coma, you were in extreme pain?”

The arm on Steve’s chair groaned. Natasha set the coffee cup down and then settled her hand on his arm. The flex of the muscle under her fingers was rigid, tense and only relaxed a fraction when she touched him.

“Yes.” Almost blinding pain. Pain James had called her on as he dragged her out of the pilot’s seat and planted her back in the cot. Pain so intense, she’d blacked out from it more than once only to eventually awake at the chalet in Switzerland after the guys decided to withdraw to let everyone recover before they went after Clint.

Turning to Tony, Stephen said, “I want to see this device, see what it activates exactly beyond the scans you provided. There is expected action and actual application. It may stimulate the exact areas, forcing ruptures that then result in healing.”

“Ruptures,” Tony stated icily. “Extreme pain.”

“As she just stated, yes.”

“Red…”

“Tony, he didn’t say let me use it. He said he wants to know how it works.”

“I also have something else I want you to try.” He touched a hand to the bowling ball bag.

“Not a big fan of that as a game, though I think some of the outfits are cute and I liked the song in _Grease 2._”

There was a moment of dead silence in the room followed by Clint’s snicker and then Tony’s snort. Even Stephen cracked a smile. Unfortunately, James’ expression didn’t shift nor did Steve’s.

“I’ll show you two the movie later,” she promised. “But before we get to all of that—you’re saying I have a TBI and PCS, or at least I show the signs of it, but I can heal them if I traumatize those regions—again. Essentially, re-break a badly healed bone.”

While James didn’t flinch, the weight of his stare drilled into her. That pain she knew intimately.

So did he.

“Somewhat crude, but yes. Whether you could survive the pain would be—the challenge. It would be akin to pure torture. I would honestly not recommend it on any level, or at least at any great speed. Your enhanced status is remarkable, but this could be taxing on a mental and physical level beyond what even you may be used to.”

She was aware. She also didn't agree. Torture over decades may have elongated her suffering, but the suffering had always been there. It was quite simply part of her life.

“Red—I’m sorry, but no,” Tony said abruptly. “I’m not torturing you. I can’t.”

No, she hadn’t thought he would. “Haven’t asked you to, Tony. Relax. I would never ask you to use anything you made to cause me or anyone else pain.”

“Those bastards who did this to you, happily, but Red…”

“Shh…” She gripped Steve’s arm and his muscles flexed again. So far he hadn’t destroyed the chair. “What did you want to try, Stephen?”

He glanced at the bag then her. “This will be one of those things where we need to take a moment. You may be comfortable sharing your secrets with all of them. I am not.”

“So you want me to open my server files and proprietary information to your perusal but you can’t open a bag with us in the room?” Tony asked, rising. “Really?”

“Well whether you choose to help Natasha or not, Mr. Stark, is entirely up to you. What I have in this bag would be of no use to you nor is it for your consumption. If not for the fact she has asked for my help, it wouldn’t be hers either.”

“You know…”

“Enough.” James hit the table and Clint sat forward and Steve stood. The cloak fled to hide right behind Stephen. “Stay on the topic of Natalia. This is not about your egos.” He looked from Tony to Stephen and then back. “You know this, but you are lashing out. I appreciate _why_, but it isn’t helping.”

Tony slid his hands into his pockets and paced away from the table. The cloak peeked out from behind Stephen to peer at them.

“What Bucky is saying,” Clint said slowly, “is we’re all on the same side. We all want to understand. We all want to make this work, but we don’t want Nat to suffer.”

“What I’m saying,” Stephen said bluntly, “is that suffering may be the only way we get what she wants.”

No real surprise there, no matter how much the guys wanted to change the path to the outcome she wanted.

~~~

“You know,” she said, hands folded at her abdomen as she leaned back in the chair and studied Stephen where he pressed his hands against the table. The conversation had gone steadily downhill after his pronouncement. None of the guys were happy. “You could work on your approach to soften it from steel wool to maybe just scratchy.”

A faint smile turned up his lips. “Gentling it wouldn’t have helped them. They are all four heavily invested in your well being. It clouds their judgment. As evidenced by Mr. Stark’s reticence to allow you near a device that could very well give you exactly what you want, but at a cost, he is not willing for you to pay.”

“You really enjoy dissecting people, don’t you?”

“About as much as you do.” He studied her. “They want to believe in the impossible. They know this will cost you, they don’t want you to have to pay the price. So they reach for the impossible cure, the impossible solution…and as long as you reach for the impossible, you don’t have to accept that it may never be probable.”

“I daresay you haven't had much practice,” Natasha quoted. “When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

“_Alice in Wonderland_—nice.” He opened pulled open the zipper on the bag and removed from inside it a small concave stand which he set on the table. Then, with a cloth covering his hands, he lifted out—a ball, crystal not bowling and set it on the stand. “Before you comment, I’m very well aware of what it looks like.”

“I wasn’t going to say a word,” she said, tipping her head to the side to study it. It didn’t glow or behave like some arcane item. Maybe they only did it in the movies. Still… “This is what you didn’t want them to see?”

“No, what I don’t want them to see is testing a theory with this.” Pulling out the chair Clint had abandoned, he settled in it then motioned to the ball. “This is—a soul mirror.”

“Does it add ten pounds or something when you look in it?”

His smirk vanished almost as soon as it appeared. “Not quite. Also, objects seen in it are not larger than they appear.”

“Good one,” she murmured, then shifted the chair slightly to stare at the ball. “What does it do?”

“In layman’s terms, it opens a window. What you see on the other side of it—that’s the tricky part. Do you recall what I said to you about MDMA?”

“Ecstasy? Yep. That it can be used to help PTSD patients have some emotional distance while confronting their memories, maybe even help them isolate the causes.”

“Precisely, the brain for all we know about it—for all _I_ know about it—remains something of a mystery requiring the mystic arts to even begin to comprehend. A soul mirror can open a window and let you see where you need to go, what is the source of your troubles.”

“I don’t need to see the Red Room, Stephen. I have enough memories of it.” _But not all of them_, an irritating voice whispered in the back of her mind. _Not even close to all of them. _“And I thought you said we couldn’t use magic to fix this?”

“We can’t—that won’t fix it. But it will tell me if fixing you—I apologize for the word fix—if repairing your brain will fix the problem you are trying to solve.”

“Logically, we already know it will…”

“Do we?” He leaned forward and so did his cloak. Though when both she and Stephen looked at it, the cloak eased away then slunk a couple of paces farther. Could a cloak slink?

“I need my memories back. They are trapped in the scarred areas of my brain where I can’t access them. Fix the scarred areas, I get my memories back. Ergo, fixing my brain fixes my problem.”

“Your memories aren’t the problem, Natasha…” Stephen stared at her. “Not really. Do you want to know what’s in them? Yes. But that’s not your problem.”

“I really love when people tell me what’s wrong with me or what I need. You’re a professional, so hit me, what do I need?”

“To forgive yourself for all crimes real or imagined that you have committed.” It was like getting sucker-punched by the other guy. She didn’t move. “Locked in your memories are other crimes, acts you think you did, acts you’re afraid you did, and acts you cannot undo. Yet, you can’t do proper penance for them if you can’t remember them. Because remembering them won’t change anything—except you.”

Tipping her head back against the chair, she stared at him. “That’s really irritating.”

“That I’m right?” He gave a little shrug. “So I’ve been told.”

“It’s not that simple, though.” Yes, she had red in her ledger. It was dripping with blood…so many crimes. So many—lost memories.

“Nothing is ever simple, but this desperation to know? This relentless drive to put yourself through whatever amount of pain and suffering necessary will not give you absolution.”

“But it might give me my daughter.” While he wasn’t wrong about all the things he’d said, she craved one piece above all others. “I’ve killed. I’ve maimed. I’ve stolen. I’ve lied. I’ve deceived. My ledger is dripping with blood. I doubt I can ever wipe it out. But I left my daughter decades ago—I believe I left her with a damn good reason and I believe I made sure she was safe. I still left. She's out there now…with no knowledge of me or who I am or what I’ve done. She’s safer that way.”

She worked her jaw from side to side as she turned the words over in her mind.

“I have accepted that even if I find her—even if I unlock the place I’ve hidden her. I may not ever get to know her. But I’m selfish—I want to _know_ she’s okay. I want to know she had a life.”

“You want to know if you did the right thing.” It wasn’t a question.

One nod. “And if I did the wrong thing…maybe I can’t make it up to her. But I might be able to do something right for her now.”

“Even if nothing you do now can change anything that happened then?”

“If I thought—no I don’t think even if you told me it would be impossible to recover even a portion much less all of it that I’d give up. I remember giving birth to her. I remember singing to her and taking care of her. I remember fighting for her.” And she remembered sacrificing herself for her. “I wouldn’t give up then.”

“Then we don’t give up now. I brought the soul mirror because I wanted you to see what is you need. It may not show you anything. You may have already come face-to-face with what it is you truly need and it will only show you yourself. What you need and what you want to know are different things.”

“Do you need me to do this to keep helping me or was this a way to dissuade me from continuing to pursue this path?” Because either seemed legit.

“As a doctor, I swore an oath to do no harm. I swore an oath to help others to the best of my ability—and that ability was considerable.” Key phrase there. Did he hear it when he said _was_ or had he merely accepted it? “I told you I would do my best to assist you, your case is a fascination and a travesty. What was done to you is criminal… but like your Mr. Stark said and I agree… undoing it may be perpetrating equal cruelty.”

“Is it cruel if it’s what I want?” Was it cruel when they ripped away her memories upon her return in ’74? She’d _wanted _it then, too.

“Volunteering to go before a firing squad doesn’t make dying any less the result.”

“Depends on the firing squad—do you have any idea how bad their aim has to be if you need a baker’s dozen to shoot one person?” Didn't matter that they thought they spared one man or two by only loading or two weapons. Once weapons moved past packing them with gunpowder, that point had been rendered moot.

His droll look said he wasn’t biting.

Sitting forward, she motioned to the ball. “If Tony won’t let me use his device…and no, I won’t beg him or try to blackmail him or twist his arm in any way. He has the right to say how his devices are used.” She wouldn’t add more red to his ledger. “Could we achieve the same thing with precision-targeted electro-convulsive shocks?”

“Possibly, but that kind of targeting would need incredibly focused scans, steady hands, and the kind of equipment that may not exist yet.”

Equipment Wakanda might have.

“It also places the burden of failure on the person delivering the shocks—what if they miscalculate? If they are off by even a faction of a millimeter? You could go from destroying scar tissues and stimulating your gift to inflicting more brain damage.”

“Theoretically, I’d heal, right?”

“Therein lies the problem, Natasha. Theoretically. I’m not going to pretend I understand the chemistry or genetic rewriting that had to be done to your DNA to allow you to recover as you do. The greatest question is—what if we’re wrong? What if we miscalculate and instead of stimulating healing, we damage you irreparably?”

“Well, I’m not in a race to die. But I’ve survived everything else they’ve thrown at me. Misery. Suffering. Those I’m familiar with. I'm fairly certain the odds are in my favor on this one.”

“Again, this is not endorsing your case. I will help you, but I won’t be flippant about it. I won’t rush. I won’t be cavalier. You’ll understand every step we take and I won’t take one I’m not certain of.”

She couldn’t argue with that logic or reasoning. “If I find someone who has the technology to do the precision targeting? Who could deliver the right voltage to the exact right places to fry the scar tissue… would that change your mind in any way?”

“As you like to believe in six impossible things before breakfast, I’d say I would be inclined toward proceeding, but still with caution. But I don’t know if I can recommend this course of treatment. You have a life and incredible function now. Are you willing to risk that for the possibility of those memories? Even if they are of your daughter?”

“I have been underestimated my whole life, Stephen,” she told him. “Being underestimated is one of the greatest advantages you can have over other people.”

“I would imagine so.” He nodded to the ball. “Do you wish to see or not?”

“How does it work?”

“We will each place a hand on it. The soul mirror will open, we will step through—astrally. Our bodies will remain here. You will not be able to interact, we will merely be observers. I will do my best to guide you and I will pull you out if you are in danger of becoming entangled.”

“Will it open memories? Will it let me see those?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Even if it does, I don’t know that you would retain them.”

But there was something in his voice. “You’re lying.”

His eyes narrowed.

Leaning back and away from the ball, she studied him. “You haven’t lied to me once since we met. You’ve been arrogant, dismissive, intrigued, compassionate, and forthright—you’ve refused to answer some things. You’ve admitted when you didn’t know something. But that right there, that _I don’t know_ was a lie.”

“It’s not so much a lie,” Stephen told her. “As a caution. The soul mirror does not react to every person the same. It may show one person exactly what they need to see to be at peace and it may show another something that will haunt them for the rest of their lives because it believes the person _needed_ to see that. It is better to look into it with no expectations.”

“You know what I’ve done and you thought this a good idea?” Her nightmares were populated enough.

“You know the answer, this will only clarify it for you. Think of it as a super sharp lens, months of therapy to reach a conclusion you knew you just weren’t willing to admit to yourself.” The absolute disdain in his voice made her laugh.

“I have not had the best of luck with psychologists or therapy for that matter.”

“Ironically, neither have I.”

Her smile faded. “Don’t lie to me again. I don’t care if it’s harsh or cutting or you want to tell me to go to Hell, say it. Don’t lie to me about it.”

“Fair.” Shifting forward, he studied her. “I wanted to tell you that the solution would simply be a matter of a surgical procedure and that I could guide the right surgeon to correct the issue.”

“But it’s a matter of trial and error—well that and bending over and kissing my ass goodbye before each one.” This was not a surprise. Every single one of them had reached that conclusion on their own. To the point, Tony had suggested that frequent sex with Steve and James might booster her own serum to help her recover her memories or perhaps heal without external interference. “You know I didn’t take you for the wishful thinking guy.”

“I spent several hundred million on alternative therapies and experimental surgeries to find a repair for my hands and you didn’t think I was capable of wishful thinking?”

Well, when he put it that way… “Point.”

Still, she glanced at the ball.

“It was a hail Mary,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“The soul mirror. A hail Mary, a kind of wild attempt to find a less invasive solution.”

Mary.

“You’re going to see what I see?”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“Does that extend to sorcerers and assassins?”

“It does to Sorcerers and Avengers.”

She smiled. “Well, Stephen—let’s see what we see?”

“If you’re sure…”

“That’s never stopped me before.”

“Very well, we will place our hands on it at the same time, your right, my left. May I hold your other hand?”

“Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but I should tell you that I’m pretty full up on the dance card.”

His dry look could have evaporated one of the Great Lakes. “You’re a very attractive woman, Natasha. But I don’t hit on my patients. Or on women capable of breaking nearly every bone in my body.”

“All of them.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can break them all. I know where they are.”

He nodded. “Thank you for clarifying the point. However, back to this, may I hold your hand? I want to be able to more steadily control pulling you back if I must bring you out immediately.”

“All right, but I have a strong grip.”

“Duly noted.” He held out his right hand and she set her left in his lightly. The scars on his skin were rough and his fingers were heavily calloused in some areas and too smooth in others. They trembled, just faintly. The accident had done a real number on him. “We will place our hands at the same time, you will experience a sensation like falling. It may be unnerving, once you land, hold for a few moments to acclimate. If you spiral or in any way seem to be losing your grip, do not fear. I’ll pull you out.”

“Got it.”

“In three, two….”

Blinding white obliterated her vision.

~~~

_Around her, the other dancers stretched their hands to the ceiling and rose up on their toes. Her own toes bled, and had been bleeding. She left little point marks with every step. Three had already collapsed, but not Natalia. She would not surrender to the exhaustion. Like every other test, she would persevere. She surrendered to the dance the way she did the ice, submerging herself below the pain and the agony—the dance was all that mattered._

_The hours rolled by, and more of the girls fell. Some were dragged away, out of sight and never to be seen again. Others were left slumped against the walls, carelessly discarded._

_“You’ll break them,” she’d warned Madame B, even as she slipped into the next movement, her body in motion without conscious thought. She willed, therefore she danced. She knew this dance; it was as much a part of her as her own skin. The training demanded she react without pause, without hesitation, without time to translate thought to motion._

_If a hand flew at her, capture, break the fingers, twist the wrist, take control and flip the whole body. A dozen different maneuvers executed flawlessly because her body knew the movements and so she pirouetted then a jeté, then a graceful dip, and rise, and then en pointe again. The whole of the studio was her stage._

_“Only the breakable ones, Natalia,” Madame B reminded her as she danced past her._

_And it went on, for hours. The pain left Natalia’s feet and her legs. Her body was numb, and her mind at a distance, monitoring only the cleanness of her lines. She’d soaked through her leotard, and her hair clung to her face. Dehydration a greater threat than the movements._

_She was the last dancer._

_Had been the last for more than an hour._

_Still she moved, because she had not been given leave to stop. Around her, others gathered along the walls—the older men with their stern expressions and heavily decorated uniforms, the dark-suited men with their empty expressions, and the darker, younger men—the hammers to the widows’ sickle and the blood painting the floor their canvas._

_Alexei._

_Daniil._

_Leonid._

_Oleg._

_Yuri._

_She hated them all, and she ignored them as her dance brought her close to them. Ignored their leers. Their envy. Their hate. Their lust. Again, and again, she went through the dance, aware of the anticipation rising, because she exceeded all expectations. She was unstoppable._

_She was the power._

_A flash of silver, but she spun away before she could see and even as she turned to look…_

_The music cut off abruptly and the room emptied. She stood alone in the dance studio, her bloody toe prints decorating the floor. _

_“Chernya vdova.”_

_“Da?” She did not look. There was no point._

_“You are summoned.”_

_A turn of her head to find Soldat standing in the doorway._

_“You must come,” he told her. Though there was no pity in his voice, no compassion, no emotion of any kind, he did not look through her. _

_With a nod, she turned from the mirror and the woman removed the bloody shoes and discarded them as she walked away. The dancer was a lie like everything else. Another illusion. Another test. Another trial. _

_There was always another._

_Soldat led the way and she followed. The icy stones on the steps to the basement a balm to her abused feet._

_The chair waited. _

_She sat. They strapped her in. They lowered the cage to her head. The switch was thrown and white light obliterated her._

_Around her, the other dancers stretched their hands to the ceiling and rose up on their toes. Her own toes bled, and had been bleeding. She left little point marks with every step. Three had already collapsed, but not Natalia. She would not surrender to the exhaustion. Like every other test, she would persevere. She surrendered to the dance the way she did the ice, submerging herself below the pain and the agony—the dance was all that mattered._

_“Vdova,” Karpov interrupted. “Come.”_

_The chair waited. _

_The prongs dug into her scalp. Fire lit her mind._

_White obliterated her._

_Around her, the other dancers stretched their hands to the ceiling and rose up on their toes. Her own toes bled, and had been bleeding. She left little point marks with every step. _

_“Natalia,” Ivan interrupted. “Come.”_

_She stood at the side of the piano as he played, his words lulling. The phrase igniting a match._

_White obliterated her._

_Around her, the other dancers stretched their hands to the ceiling and rose up on their toes. Her own toes bled, and had been bleeding. _

_“Natalia,” Soldat—no James. “You must go. They’re coming…”_

_She grabbed her daughter, seized the bag and ripped out her own heart as she ran._

_White obliterated her._

_Around her, the other dancers stretched their hands to the ceiling and rose up on their toes. _

_“You choose to do this, you don’t walk it back. You walk out these doors with me, and it’s you and me, Kid. I’ll have your back.” The ludicrous part of the whole dramatic statement in her opinion was the absolute earnest way he delivered it. Clint Barton, the Hawkeye, believed every word he said. Believed it enough, she found herself almost swayed by it._

_No one swayed her with words._

_“How the hell can you make that kind of promise?” The man was supposed to kill her. No one had ever gotten so close to her, and she’d known he’d been shadowing her for a while—watching, but keeping his distance._

_“You were relieved to see me,” he told her, meeting her gaze and holding it. Not once did he dip for a look at her breasts the robe did little to hide nor did he focus on her bare legs, crossed one over the other. He stared into her eyes, his pupils relaxed and the blue-green color of his irises seemed almost soothing even under the gentle hotel lighting._

_“So this means you should offer me a way out? A job working for your people?”_

_“Sure, why not?” Then he grinned, and dropped to sit on the edge of the bed. He still had the bow in his hand, but the arrow was no longer knocked. “You’ve got mad skills, kid. Mad skills. I’ve never seen anything like what you do—and I’m good. But you’re better.”_

_“You getting in here would suggest otherwise,” she challenged him, unswayed by his compliments. Of course, she was good. She was the Black Widow. Her skills had never been the question._

_“Only because you wanted me in here,” he admitted, lips pursing for a moment. “I thought at first it was a trap, you know. You wanted to lure me in, lull me with a false sense of complacency—then I’d be in your web.”_

_Natalia Romanova had been torn between amusement at how he played off the word web and befuddled by his genuine enjoyment of their talk. “And you aren’t anymore?”_

_“Well, no. But then the gun across the room isn’t loaded, you even took the bullet out of the chamber. It’s sitting very dramatically next to the gun. You left your knives in the bathroom—or maybe under the pillows or mattress. You store them in lots of places, but you always have one on you. You’re sitting there wearing that very thin, and I have to say attractive silk robe that leaves nothing to the imagination—you know exactly how distracting it is, but it’s also clear you aren’t armed. So no…you were ready for me to come in here, and then you know…told me to get on with it.”_

_He was very proud of himself, the knowing smirk on his lips faded though._

_“And that’s why I can’t do it. You want me to help you commit suicide, and that’s—that breaks my heart. You’re far too tired for someone your age…”_

_A part of her blanked out at that moment. Her age. He had no idea. Then again, sometimes neither did she. “You do realize that there usually isn’t this much talking during an assassination?”_

_“Oh…well, I’m not your usual assassin.” Then he grinned, open, warm and practically begging for her to embrace his unusual offer, get close, then slip a knife right between his ribs. She’d catalogued a dozen ways to kill him since he’d stepped inside; aware of him from the moment he touched lightly onto her balcony. He hadn’t made a sound, but she hadn’t survived all these years by being unaware of even the changes in the air around her._

_She walked out the door with him._

_White obliterated her._

_When the vehicle stopped, Pierce opened the door without waiting for the driver. “With me, Agent.”_

_Following, she scanned the empty level—third—of the underground garage. The driver never exited the vehicle. There were no other cars or people. Secretary Pierce used his retinal scan to open a door, then ushered her through it. That put him at her back and she was not comfortable with that. Shifting to the side she allowed him to take the lead again._

_A faint smirk touched his lips. “As I was saying,” he continued as they followed a long, marble-tiled hallway that echoed with their footsteps. “I have followed your progress with great interest. Every test you’ve been given you have exceeded. You are an invaluable member of the STRIKE Team Delta. Your solo ops are impeccable. Your ability to gather intelligence is unparalleled and while it is unfortunate there are times we have to rely on it, your wet work skills have saved us from egregious harm on many occasions.”_

_They arrived at an elevator and he pressed the button, it opened for them and he stepped inside. The more he spoke the more unsettled she grew. He was a gifted liar, but every word held an element of mistruth, not a lie, but a truth that he’d twisted to serve his purpose._

_She very much understood that skill._

_The elevator continued down three floors before pausing and the doors opened._

_“I’m afraid we need your skills again, Widow,” Pierce said and then something sounded right behind her ears, the tone paralyzing. Her muscles stiffened. Three men hurried forward—men in white coats and she went to strike out but she could do nothing._

_They picked lifted her and carried her toward a great metal beast of a chair and her whole system rebelled with dread. But instead of placing her in it, they moved her past it to another device—her stomach bottomed out._

_“You’ll have to forgive me,” the secretary said as she lay prone on the table. “You’ve helped us calibrate this device for the last few years and it’s proven essential in both of our successes.”_

_Her sleeve was rolled up, then an IV inserted. She could feel the ice of the needle going in and then a flash of blue liquid being hung. Panic clawed at her insides. She had to move. Get off the fucking table, Natasha. But her muscles didn’t obey._

_“Easy, sweetheart,” Pierce crooned as he stroked her face. “I know it’s scary, but you’ve done this many times and we have to do it again. Unfortunately one of our people has made a strategic error and I need you to correct it.”_

_The stroke of his thumb against her cheek made her want to break his hand. But all she could do was stare at him impotently. He glanced up. “You need to be swift about this, I want her programmed and ready. Her flight leaves in two hours. She needs to be in place before the presentation is completed.”_

_“Sir, you’re asking for a lot. We’ve fine-tuned this, but every time we do one of these procedures we risk further brain damage.”_

_“She can handle it, can’t you sweetheart?” He smiled down at her. Pain cut across her forehead and something wet dripped down and then agony as the skin was rolled back. Were they scalping her? Fuck—she couldn’t move and it was agony. Burning lances of pain drilling into the back of her eye. The whir of a saw._

_“I can’t believe there’s never a scar,” one of the technicians said._

_“Be quiet,” the other mentioned and when there was a sickening pop she wanted to throw up, but nothing reacted. She was stuck staring up at Pierce’s face as he gave her the most benevolent smile._

_“You’ve done this for us time and again. It’s time for you to help us change the world. Don’t worry, Widow. I want you to save someone this time. You’re going to save Tony Stark.”_

_Then the pain turned white-hot and the world blurred._

_White obliterated her._

_She stood alone in the dance studio face to face with the woman in the mirror. “Who are you?” that woman asked._

_“You know who I am,” Natasha answered._

_“I know who you want to be. Who are you?”_

_“Who do I want to be?”_

_“The only person we’ve ever been allowed to want to be.”_

_Black Widow._

_Chernya Vdova._

_She thought this was not supposed to be a place she interacted and yet… She didn’t see Stephen anywhere. Then the glass shattered. The fragments of mirror splintered across the floor. In every single one was her face. _

_“This is who you are,” the voices in all the shards said._

_“No,” Natasha answered. _

The mirror snapped back into place and behind stood Stephen as the woman in the mirror began to dance. Her bloody toe prints marking the floor. “You need to know you’re not broken,” he said quietly, though his voice held elements of surprise. “It’s easy to see why you would wonder.”

She met his gaze in the mirror. “They can only break the breakable ones. I’m marble.”

“Do you believe that?”

Turning, she looked away from the girl to face him. “Yes. Because I lived it. I wouldn’t have survived that if I wasn’t marble.”

“Marble. Cold. Hard. Unyielding. Inflexible.” He studied her. “You’re not any of those things.”

“You misunderstand.”

“No,” Stephen said slowly and he moved, blinking from a space far behind her to standing at her back. His hands on her shoulders he turned her. “Look again.”

In the mirror, Natasha danced. She was in her studio—it was the Tower and she danced, lost to the music and when she finished she dripped with sweat, her expression turning radiant as she glanced away from the mirror to where Steve and James stood.

“That woman is not cold, hard, inflexible or unyielding. That woman is alive.”

“That woman is still me.” The mirror split. Then again. Then again. In each one, she danced. Sometimes with Soldat watching. Sometimes James. Many times alone. Sometimes with an audience. Sometimes she danced in great ballrooms. Sometimes with Tony. Sometimes with Steve. In the snow, she danced with James. “They are all me. I’m not broken. I’m—”

“You’re what?” He inclined his head.

The images in the mirror changed. She was bound to a chair, being beaten as she interrogated the general. In another, she held her hand over the sink as Ross poured boiling water over her hand. In a third, she stood in a clearing, her whole body alight as the formless streamed upward—had that been what that looked like? In the last, she was face down on the stone floor; the Mandarin’s touch rending over her battered and abused nerves leaving her silently screaming.

“I’m alive.”

He studied the images. “Life is pain.”

“Sometimes,” Natasha said and the mirrors redoubled, showing more moments. Some of them torture, some them glorious. Stephen glanced to the side then did a double-take and turned. She followed his gaze.

Loki stood inside a cell, staring at her as he ranted and then he slammed his fist against the glass. Only the cell shimmered and he stared not at where she’d been but at where they were now.

“Yeah,” Stephen said slowly, then drew something in their air and sent it at the mirror, splintering it. “No.”

“Not a fan?”

“No,” he said slowly. “You?”

“Not even close.”

Still, she stared at the new images as they appeared. In one she was dancing with Mary—and she moved closer to that one. It had to be the cabin she was in, but there was a joy on her face as she moved with her daughter. That joy flickered, coming and going in some of the other mirrors where she danced.

“So you’re not broken.” Stephen stood beside her. “What else do you see?”

Fighting her way through a slew of guards to get to Vanko’s workshop so she could override his programming.

Leaping off Steve’s shield so she could catch a ride to the top of the Tower to close the portal.

Two a.m. drinks with Tony, both of them determined to drown their nightmares in liquor.

Dumping her file onto the net along with the rest of SHIELD and Hydra’s intelligence and records.

Memories.

Some she recognized, many she knew, but so many she didn’t.

Kissing Steve on the quinjet. Sitting with him on the edge of the bed as they talked to James who was still reeling from a nightmare. Facing James—the Winter Soldier—on the street in D.C. In Odessa. In Berlin.

Lila’s birth.

Kicking the crap out of Clint to get Loki out of his head.

So many.

“I see many lives where there should be one.”

The mirrors collapsed into one. The girl in there danced as her feet bled. She didn’t fall. She would persevere.

She was marble.

“I see her.” The reason she was still here. That girl. That—young girl who’d never had a real hug or a true friend or even had any idea kindness and love existed—she never surrendered. She was why Natasha had a life at all.The girl who became the monster.

With a sigh, Stephen held out his hand. “It’s time to go.”

“That’s it?” she asked, turning to face him. “This is what I needed to know?” She’d known this.

“I think it’s showing me what I needed to know about you.” He met her gaze, his own somewhat resigned. “You’re never going to give up. No matter how long it takes, no matter how much you suffer, or what you learn. You will fight.”

“I could have told you that, Stephen.”

“You did tell me that. But as I have said before, Natasha. You are unique and I find myself reluctant to threaten that.”

“Don’t get soft on me now, Doc. I need the asshole arrogant surgeon with a God complex.”

“That’s unfortunate, because you’re stuck with me. I like to think I’ve grown beyond that man.” He held out his hand again. “We will find a way. This is your life. This is your choice.”

In an odd way, she liked this place. She could look at all of these pieces of herself without flinching. She was that girl. She was that friend. She was that lover. She was that mother. She was that agent. She was that... she was that Avenger. 

It was definitely time to go. She took his hand.

White obliterated her.

~~~

They didn’t ask. Steve and James took her to get burgers, chili fries and a huge chocolate chocolate chip milk shake—it was disgustingly chocolatey and perfect. She ate almost an entire basket of the chili cheese fries on her own. They talked about the holidays. They talked about houses. They talked about vacations. They didn’t talk about Stephen or the fifteen minutes she spent with him that felt more like days than minutes.

After, they headed back toward the Compound, stopping at a few shops along the way. She found more rings for Wanda and a fat oblong disk of a necklace with a symbol in the center that meant endure. It was perfect for her. She found a belt for Sharon, it had a double throwing blade sheath tucked woven into it, where the hilts would frame the buckle. Practical and stylish.

For Laura, she found the softest patterned silk scarf and lovely, but she’d never buy it for herself, purple dress. She picked out a few accessories—earrings, necklace and bracelet to go with it. She even found an Iron Man onesie for Nate to go with the pair of Captain America ones she’d hidden in the bottom of the basket.

Steve and James took turns wandering around with her while the other one slipped off to “browse.” She deliberately avoided noticing them going to the register and buying and definitely didn’t pay any attention to them secreting bags out to the car.

In the second shop, she found hand tools for Clint, a beginner’s engineer kit for Coop, a more advanced set of tools that she had Steve nip off to get for James while she took James to look at a binary clock for Peter and an iPod Tabletop Jukebox for Sam.

He wasn’t really enthused on the last one, but then they found arcade games. Real ones. An entire wall of them. Steve returned to find her showing James Pac Man and she could read his face. He knew exactly where that was going to end up.

That and Galaga for sure. His dubious glare at Space Invaders kept it off the list. Wrapping her arm through his, she tugged him away to explore while James played. Then Steve found the ugly Christmas sweaters and he wouldn’t be dissuaded.

They actually left the store with one each and one for every single one of their friends.

Clint was going to kill her because he’d have to wear one, too. It was worth the fugly thing she’d have to put on. Course, the telescope and rock hunting kits she got for Lila along with a full cosmetics kit, prosthetic design, and book on how to change your appearance as well, probably wouldn’t earn her any points.

After arranging delivery for the arcade games while Steve and James loaded all of the other bags into the car, she considered there was one other shop they could hit before they went back.

It turned out to be James’ favorite store, he got bacon bandages for Sam much to Steve’s amusement and an emergency clown nose for Tony. Though, Natasha was rather fond of the creative curse maker he picked out for Steve and a pair of _bring me wine_ socks for Laura. The Zombie Survival Guide he picked up for Clint, but only after Natasha suggested they could add in their own tips.

But the best thing she found all day was a happy face mug that said _Have a Nice Day_ with the flip-off hand on the bottom.

It almost made her cry.

She bought a dozen.


	21. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family is tough

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**Family**

**Natasha**

Back at the Compound, she was a little more prepared to face the chaos greeting them when they made their way through the Common Room. 

“Auntie Nat!” Lila yelled as she abandoned Mario Kart to streak across the room toward her. Natasha crouched and caught her in a hug. “Where have you been? You disappeared!”

“You didn’t find me?” Natasha widened her eyes as she swept her up.

Lila blinked. “It was hide and seek?”

“Maybe.” Not that Natasha could hold the straight face for long when Lila narrowed her eyes.

“So if it wasn’t, then where did you go? You came in from the snow fight and then disappeared.” A firm frown in place, Lila gave her a look of disapproval.

“Lila,” Clint said in a firm voice. “We don’t talk to Auntie Nat that way.”

“But she’s su—”

“Uh uh,” Clint said with a shake of his finger. “Down.” That was directed at her as much as Lila so Natasha set her down and Lila chewed her lower lip as she stared at her dad.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Lila said almost too solemnly then cast those eyes up at Natasha. “I’m sorry, Auntie Nat.”

“Well, we’ll call that a single infraction and we won’t report it to Santa.” She winked at her.

Lila’s eyes widened. “Is it okay to ask where you were?”

“You can ask,” Natasha told her solemnly.

“But she’s not gonna answer,” Coop said from where he knelt on the sofa. “Which means she was out Christmas shopping.” Not a bad bit of reasoning. “Hi Auntie Nat.”

“Hey Coop, having fun?”

He grinned. “I’m winning. Uncle Tony keeps getting distracted.”

“Hey,” Tony said twisting to face them, too. “I was doing just fine before your sister threw her controller at me and abandoned the game.”

Coop grinned. “He can’t figure out how you took over his legion and he offered me money if I can get it out of you.”

“Really?” Clint and Laura said in unison as they both eyed Tony. Natasha bit back a smile cause as plans went, it wasn’t too terrible.

James snorted, then leaned toward her and murmured, “You good? Or do we need an exit?”

“Good for now,” she answered almost silently and he nodded.

“It was a figure of speech,” Tony stated.

“Then why did you show me the fifties?”

“They were hundreds,” Tony told him primly. “It was supposed to be motivational.”

“Okay, just to clarify,” Laura stated giving Tony a stern look. “We do not offer or accept bribes in this family.”

“We don’t?” Lila said, then slanted a look up at Natasha.

“No, Bug,” Clint said, folding his arms. “We don’t.”

“Aww,” Coop said in almost the same breath as Lila and Tony.

“Do not make me ground you,” Clint said, his gaze on Tony. “Or sic Nat on you.”

“Oo!” Coop grinned as he looked at Tony.

Tony casually nudged his glasses up with two fingers, but left his middle up a beat longer on its own.

“Troublemakers back to your game,” Clint said, nudging Lila toward the television. “Let Auntie Nat, Uncle Steve, and Uncle Bucky get settled.”

Brushing her hand against Steve’s, then James’, Natasha headed for the kitchen. Wanda glanced up from where she was chopping vegetables with Vision. “Welcome back.”

“What are we doing?” Natasha asked as she rolled up her sleeves.

“Giving Laura a hand to get a stew started. There’s a chicken casserole in the oven.”

“There’s two of them,” Laura said as she walked in. “I wasn’t sure how many we would have for dinner tonight so I wanted to make enough.”

Vision motioned to the cutting board. “We have this in hand, Natasha if you would like to rest.”

“Okay, I’m good.” She folded her arms as he resumed chopping. The kitchen smelled fantastic. But then Laura was an excellent cook. Laughter floated from around the television as Steve settled in to join the Mario Kart tournament much to the kids’ delight.

Clint and James drifted away from the gamers, looking at least a little more relaxed than they had earlier in the day. Maybe she was hitting a fractional bit of normal. For real.

But there was one conversation she couldn’t put off much longer. “How long until dinner?”

They had been out most of the afternoon.

“About an hour,” Laura said. “Want to get out of here for a bit?”

Wanda shot a questioning glance at her. Natasha shook her head. Tonight was better and Laura didn’t deserve the brush off. “Sure, wine?”

“I think I’d better behave,” Laura said with a chuckle.

“Only if you want to,” Natasha told her. “Hey, where’s Peter?” She hadn’t seen him.

“I believe he is speaking with a young lady on the phone,” Vision said. “I think it was the girl he brought to the party.”

“Liz,” Natasha said. “Good.” At least that seemed to still be working out for him. Glancing at Laura, she nodded toward the residence hall. “We can head back to my room—make some tea and catch up? You guys all right?” She directed the last question at Wanda and Vision.

“I think we can handle it, we’re just going to put everything into the crockpots when we’re done?” Wanda glanced at Laura who nodded.

“Thank you both.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Vision said. “While I am not reliant on such sustenance, I continue to find the preparation of it soothing.”

“Especially if it doesn’t require a lot of seasoning,” Wanda retorted, amusement in her smile.

Natasha chuckled, then motioned with her chin toward the hall. Very aware of Clint and James tracking their path, she folded her arms as she cruised past them. “Girl talk boys… behave while I’m gone.”

Laura made a faint sound, but Natasha didn’t turn to check in. In her suite, she motioned toward the stools facing the bar. “I’m going to make some tea—want some?”

“I can do that…”

“Laura,” Natasha paused, kettle in hand. “Right now, every instinct you have says take care of me. Ignore them. I can make the tea, then we can catch up and we can discuss how I have no intentions of discussing last week with you. Ever.”

The other woman studied her, her eyes narrowed slightly. “You haven’t been this distant since the first time Clint brought you to meet me.”

“Well, I was pretty wired then, too.”

“And disappointed.”

Natasha snorted and shook her head as she filled the kettle. “More confused than disappointed. I got over it. And I didn’t know you—which meant I didn’t trust you.”

“But you trust me now?” Laura eased onto a stool, the weight of her regard a tangible thing.

“For the most part,” Natasha told her as she set the electric kettle on its base and turned it on.

“The most part?” An element of hurt echoed under those words.

Slowing her breathing with her eyes closed, Natasha kept her back to her until she’d schooled everything. Whatever that soul mirror thing was, she’d come out of it with some perspective and some distance. It—blunted some of the harder edges and for now, she’d take that.

Pivoting, she faced Laura. “You’re my friend. You’re my best friend’s wife. I care about you and I trust you.”

“For the most part?” Head tilted, Laura pressed her tongue to the corner of her mouth before she said, “What does that mean?”

“It means you are part of the life _there_, not here.”

“That’s changing.” The hurt in her eyes stung, but Natasha kept her distance. “Clint and I are…”

“Trying something new, I know. I’m _really_ really happy for you. I want it to work out between the two of you—as you’ll recall, I’m totally rooting for it.”

“Except where it applies to you…” She licked her lips. “Because… why?”

“Because you’re a civilian. You’re a mother. You have three kids. You’re their constant. You went on a radio show and called out Ross like you had the right to intervene in a fight that isn’t yours.”

Shock rippled across her face.

“Laura, you care and that means a lot. You’re my friend. That means more. You’re Clint’s _wife_ and it would _kill_ him if anything happened to you. He moved Heaven and Earth to keep your names off the books, to keep you off SHIELD’s radar and off the radar of any enemy we have—and that list? That list isn’t short.” 

The kettle boiled, the sharp click of it turning off a crack in the silence. Taking a moment, she pulled down two mugs and took her time preparing the tea.

“I used a code name,” Laura said. “Don’t mistake this explanation for an apology. Because I’m not apologizing. You were under attack. You were being assaulted on all sides—from your past, from your present, from mistakes made by a hundred other people—for mistakes made by the people we care about out in that Common Room. They were painting _you_ with that brush and they were doing their damnedest to turn the world against you and get you killed.”

Natasha poured the water into the mugs and over the tea, her gaze measuring as Laura flattened her hands on the counter.

“Clint said there was nothing anyone could do. That Tony was taking steps. At the time—I didn’t know where you were. You were a fugitive.”

“You were on the radio a _week_ ago.”

“For something I got involved in a couple of months ago.” Laura met her gaze and she held it. She’d never been afraid of Natasha, something Natasha had worked very hard to earn. “You’re not just my friend, you’re my family. When someone goes after my family, I am damn well going to do something.”

“Laura…”

“No, I’m talking now. You’re angry _at_ me because I took a risk? Fine. Be angry. It’s not good to repress that emotion—the same way it’s not good to refuse to stand up for what needs to be said.”

Anger served no one. She was less angry at Laura than she was worried. Anything could have happened while Natasha had been locked away. Anything. There would have been nothing she could have done about it. Laura did _not_ understand what could have happened, what could always happen. S

Blowing out a breath, Natasha shifted Laura’s mug over to her and put the milk and sugar where she could reach it before she added a couple of spoonfuls of jam to her cup.

“You and Clint—you risk your lives and you have for years. When he was in the Army? When he was a Ranger? I knew that he did dangerous things. But he was with his unit. Then when he got out—and went to work for SHIELD, I knew he was going to do dangerous things _again_. Only he didn’t have his unit…” Laura frowned. “Then he had you. He brought you back and I’ll admit, the first time he finally told me about you…it was like he brought in the most feral cat in the world and he’d been trying to domesticate it when you were more a tiger than a house cat.”

“I’m not loving this analogy.”

“Suck it up,” Laura said without heat and gave her a brief smile. “The point is—Clint had you. He brought you back and it was almost three months before he felt like he could leave you and come see me. I didn’t get it, I mean I understood why he never wanted to kill you—but I couldn’t understand why you were so important. Then for the next couple of years, it was Natasha this and Natasha that and my God, Laur, she has a plant. A single plant in her place. I gave her that plant everything else is temporary.”

Sipping her tea, Natasha frowned. She’d had that plant for a long time. Gave it to a neighbor when she kept shipping out though. Didn’t want it to die and then… well, she never went back for it.

“You were so important to him, but it wasn’t until the mission to Turkmenistan when I realized how important you would be to me.”

Third year of her partnership with Clint—someone had betrayed them. The mission had been a set up to put Hawkeye in the field and he’d had some very powerful people after him.

“You saved his life.”

“He saved mine first.”

“Be quiet and let me thank you,” Laura scolded. “I swear you’re worse than Clint and Lila combined.”

Natasha didn’t roll her eyes, but she did raise her eyebrows.

“Fine, you don’t like being complimented because it makes you feel uncomfortable. You prefer to deal in checks and balances, except with Clint. You wrote each other a blank check and neither of you will ever fully cash it.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

“Clint had been out here alone, Nat. For years, he ran these dangerous missions making enemies out of powerful people—and he was alone. Then he had you. You made sure my husband came home. You were his team. I may not always like that he confides in you over me and I may have had the occasional resentment and worry that he wanted you and was stuck with me…”

“Laura…”

“Everyone has bad days, Nat. You’re gorgeous and capable and you’re there and I’m _not_. All those months when he was pulling away—when he grew so distant, when he kept leaving… but the point is, I know you two are best friends. You’re family. You love my kids. You bring their dad home. You got him away from Loki… you saved him in Sokovia when he was shot. You pulled him out of Budapest. You got him out of Russia. If he goes and you’re there, I know he’s coming home.” For a moment the tears in her eyes seemed to tremble and then she blinked them away.

“Compliments will get you nowhere.” Natasha frowned a little then took a sip of her tea. The raw emotion wasn’t comfortable, but it was also not horrible either.

“Then it’s good I’m right where I need to be. I defended my family, Nat. I’m not going to apologize for it. I took precautions, I used the VOIP relay you set up a few years ago. It might not be as good as what you can do now, but it was sufficient. I helped shine a light. There’s a lot of us who are doing it and we’re going to keep doing it. You don’t deserve the horrible things they said about you and if you tell me you have red in your ledger one more time…”

“Laura, if Ross finds out about you—he has leverage on Clint and me. Because there’s very little I wouldn't do to keep you and those kids safe.” Even more now than before and she hadn’t thought it possible to feel that way.

“He won’t find out.”

“You can’t guarantee that.” Natasha couldn't guarantee it. Clint had worked hard for years to keep them off the grid and Natasha supported it. But it only took _once._

“No, you’re right, I can’t. But that’s not going to stop me. You and Clint—you and the Avengers, you all fight the battles the rest of us can’t. But _I_ can _fight_ this battle. Me and a few thousand other educators, parents, healthcare workers and more from around the world. We can fight it. We can wage war on public opinion and we’re going to keep doing it. I know you’ve been—otherwise engaged—but turn on the news. We’re definitely turning the tide.”

The war of public opinion could never really be won. “Does Clint know?”

Laura set her mug down. “No.”

“This new thing you’re trying…does that mean you’re planning on telling him?”

Her sigh answered before she even said, “I wasn’t. But I suppose I should. Are you really angry with me?”

“Concerned. Very concerned. I heard your voice on that radio show and…” Had a damn panic attack, but she couldn’t tell her that. “I wasn’t prepared for it and all I could do was think of all the ways it could have gone wrong.” She lifted her tea mug. “All the ways it can still go wrong. You’re an optimist, you live a world where make-believe is encouraged and providing baked goods is the mission task for the week. No, I am not making light of you being a single parent most of the time.”

“You’re not?” It was Laura’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “It kind of sounds like it.”

“Then suck it up,” she retorted. “You get to do all that, put your kids in the car without sweeping it for bombs, sending them off to catch the school bus without electronic monitoring and bodyguards because of what Clint did. It only takes one slip, Laura. Once. Then it’s not just _you_ in the crosshairs.”

“I’m aware of how dark you see the world…”

“It’s not how I see it. It’s how it _is_.” When Laura would have opened her mouth, Natasha raised a hand. “Stop. You will always think you did the right thing. You wanted to protect me, you decided you were the one to do it. I could be grateful that you care that much, but it’s not gratitude I feel.”

“I’m beginning to understand that.”

“I don’t think you do.”

Pushing the mug aside, Natasha rubbed at the back of her neck. The conflict created between wanting to protect her and wanting to scare her back into her lane waged in her.

“Natasha…” Leaning forward with her elbows on the counter, Laura pressed her folded hands against her mouth as she stared at her. Some of the defiance in her had leeched away. Breaking her wouldn’t even take time…

“You’re vulnerable.” A liability. “You took an unconscionable risk with a low promise of reward.” None whatsoever. “You didn’t do it for me. You did it to make yourself feel better, to give yourself power of a situation you have no power in.”

Every word landed like a blow.

“So you’re the only one who sacrifices for us?” Laura asked as she lowered her hands. “You’re the only one who gets to fight?”

A knock on the door.

“Natasha,” Friday said quietly. “Mr. Barton is at the door.”

Laura twisted to look at it and the bands of tension in the room stretched.

“Let him in, Friday…” Natasha turned to rinse out the mug.

Instead of his usual greeting, there was silence as the door closed. Then, “Friday, can we get a little privacy please?”

“Natasha?”

“It’s fine, Friday.” Natasha set the empty mug in the sink, then turned to lean against the counter. Clint glanced from Laura to her and then back.

“What’s going on?” Eyes narrowed, Clint settled his attention on Laura. The tautness in her shoulders combined with her white knuckles along with the ticking time bomb of quiet were not clues Clint would miss.

“We were just talking,” Laura said. While it wasn’t a lie, it held distinct untruths in it.

Clint flicked a look to her and Natasha met his gaze steadily. “Nat?”

“We were talking,” Natasha supported at least that much of the story.

“Uh huh.” Arms folded, he stared. “About?”

“Clint, Nat and I can talk…”

“Of course you can, but since I can cut the tension in this room with a knife and I told you she didn’t want to talk about last week, I’m left to try and guess at the topics here…” When neither of them said anything, Clint sighed. “Nat?”

“I went on a radio show,” Laura said abruptly. Yeah, see this was why Natasha didn’t want her doing these things. She broke in nothing flat. Maybe it wasn't a fair assessment, but Natasha didn't have to be fair when it came to their safety. “To defend Natasha. I’ve been working with a co-op of writers, teachers, thinkers—a lot of us—we believe that all of you deserve a better deal than you’ve received. Natasha especially. So I went on a radio show using a codename and defended her, specifically against all the bullshit Ross threw at her.”

The words landed in the dead silence of the room.

“Nat called me on it,” Laura continued.

Clint was—less than thrilled.

He'd looked happier finding her in the wreckage of the car bombings in Morocco than he did right now.

“We were just debating the fact that while she’s allowed to take bullets for us—for you. I’m supposed to sit quietly back at the farm and keep my head down.”

He’d most likely come to rescue her from Laura’s good intentions and now… “You…”

“It’s been fine, it aired a week ago.” Laura folded her arms, while her raised chin said defiance the rest of her was braced. In no world could she have expected this to not land badly. She was an optimist, not naïve. So either she lied to herself or had already accepted whatever their reactions would be.

“What exactly did you say on a…” He looked at Natasha for clarification.

“A satellite radio station with over two million listeners.”

Clint actually looked a little ill, but it was worse when his expression erased entirely. Straightening, she locked gazes with him. The questions rolling through his eyes were all the ones Natasha asked herself. Well, all the ones that detonated like an IED.

How many heard? What were the chances for containment? If containment wasn’t possible, could they redirect? Deflect? Frame someone else?

“I…I said that I wanted to know who protected the heroes. You all protect us, so who protects you…”

“You knew?” Clint shifted his gaze to Natasha.

“I found out a couple of days ago after Sharon mentioned I should review the news clips—something about whatever was aired while I was gone.”

“Gone…Natasha…”

“No,” Natasha said flatly, meeting Laura’s gaze.

“You weren’t gone—you were—”

“Laur, Nat doesn’t want to talk about it. She’s asked and she’s told you twice, you mean well but…”

“But what? Neither of you handle things in anything remotely resembling normal or healthy. Fine, keep your secrets.” She rose. “Maybe that’s all you planned to do anyway.”

Putting a hand out, Clint stopped her from leaving. “Laura…”

“You’re going to take her side,” Laura pinned him with a look. “That’s what it boils down to—you always choose her.”

“This isn’t about choosing.”

Natasha sighed. “Laura…”

“Oh, now you want to talk, because you need to protect him.” She paced away from both of them arms folded. Then bowed her head. “This is not what I came in here to do.”

“Okay—we’re all going to take a breath.” Clint met Natasha’s gaze and she braced her hands on the counter and nodded. She wasn’t angry. At the moment, she was more frustrated than anything else.

“And then what?” Laura turned, she glanced from him to Natasha and then back again. “I get the lecture on how I should be the good little wife and stay home and out of this? I should let the government and monsters like Ross go after you? Tear you down and paint a target on your back that forces you to run so that no one else gets hurt? Is that what this is?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Clint shook his head. “You know what…before we do this. I need to know _what_ you did. Exactly. Then we need to discuss this like…”

Natasha kept her hands planted. “Then I’ll leave you both to it.”

“No,” they said in one voice. Clint and Laura both looked at her. “Stay, Nat,” Laura continued. “This _is_ about you.”

“I’d like you to stay so the two of you can settle this. You two are friends.”

“We’re friends with conditions,” Laura stated. “The conditions requiring I ask no questions of a professional or personal nature. That I let you dictate what I know…”

Turning, Natasha yanked open the freezer and pulled out the vodka. “Friday—please play back Ladyhawke’s radio call.” She pulled out some glasses then glanced at them, Clint gave her a bland look and then Laura shook her head. As Friday played back the whole program, Natasha poured herself a glass, then got out the wine and set it on the counter. She could open that to breathe.

_“Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight wherever you are in the world, it’s Progressive Talk’s Hero Hour and my name is Win Michaels, and I’m your host! We want to hear about your heroes. We’ve got Tony Stark back in the news, but when isn’t he? But that was some exciting stuff this week in New York as Iron Man defused those bombs with an assist from the Black Widow herself and didn’t she look fine while she was doing it. How awesome is that to have her and all the Avengers back? Do you have a favorite one? What do you want to talk about… and we’re going live on the air with our first caller… Ladyhawke—love your name Ladyhawke from Iowa. What did you want to talk about today?”_

_“Hi Win, great show, I listen every day and I wanted to talk about the things we don’t see the media or anyone else talking about. I want to talk about how much these heroes give up to save lives, save the world, and save people like you and me—but who saves them when people like Secretary Ross try to turn them in his personal soldiers or the world plays tug of war over who they belong to and whose rules they should follow? When do we, as the people, protect our heroes from our politicians and greed?”_

_“Are we so sure that the heroes need protection? The very existence of the Accords says that people like Black Widow, like Iron Man—they’re dangerous. They need to be kept in check.”_

_“A person with a knife can be dangerous. A person with a gun can be, too,” Laura pointed out._

_“And we have laws that govern those actions.”_

_“Those same laws already apply in this case. Instead of applying law, we’re applying a standard, isolating them from the general populace and marking them as a suspect class that requires the same level of monitoring and authorization as a criminal on parole.”_

Halfway through the program, Clint signed, _pour me on_e. Natasha tossed back the vodka then poured a second glass for Clint. Laura finally motioned toward the wine glasses and Natasha lifted that down and let her pour herself a generous measure.

_“You know, I hear what you’re saying Ladyhawke. I get admiring them. But if they commit crimes, who is supposed to police them? Do you roll up on Iron Man and serve a warrant? The last time I checked Tony Stark has an army of lawyers, the law isn’t going to go very far.”_

_“So the problem isn’t that the law doesn’t apply but they can afford to defend themselves?” The challenge in Laura’s voice echoed over the line. “You can obviously make that argument. But let’s say for the sake of this argument, a warrant is issued because of suspect behavior on the part of Tony Stark—his attorneys get it thrown out or they can’t find him to serve it. What do you think happens if Ross goes on a campaign against him like he has against the Black Widow? Let’s take it a step further, what happens when the government takes it a step further and starts targeting first responders? Persecution is persecution no matter how much you want to dress it up and call it preventative measures.”_

It was a seven-minute segment.

It seemed to last forever.

_“I think the question we need to ask ourselves is what happens when we chase our heroes off? What happens when the people who can save us aren’t allowed to? Who is at fault the next time the sky opens? Or an army of murderbots gets loose? Who helps us then?”_

_“You know, Ladyhawke, I’m going to tell you that last thought troubles me more than I care to admit. I think we need to do something, because people need to feel safe.”_

_“The Avengers are people, too. Do we sacrifice their safety for ours? Aren’t they already doing that?”_

_“If they’re going to be our heroes…”_

_“They’re not trying to be anyone’s heroes. They’re just…they’re doing something. In a world where so many of us wait for someone to do something. They do something. We should applaud that and support it.”_

_“Well we are doing something—they removed Ross…”_

_“After Black Widow arranged for the lofty Committee overseeing everything to actually _see_ something.”_

_“You know, I can’t argue that point. So now it’s up to you listeners—what do you think? Do you agree with Ladyhawke? We want to hear from you.”_

The recording ended.

Natasha tossed back a second glass of vodka and refilled Clint’s when he slid his glass over. Laura swallowed a mouthful of wine. Some of her confidence faded as she studied them.

“How did you call that station?” Clint asked.

“The old VOIP lines Nat set up a few years back. They do that Rolodex thing with IPs and servers.”

“Old school?” Clint double-checked with Natasha and she nodded. They relied on the old lan lines and routed through ancient systems that might have been labeled obsolete but couldn’t be replaced. Some things were still analog even in their very digital world.

“Well, that’s something.” He set the glass down and rubbed the back of his neck. “Laura…”

“I’m not going to apologize for it.” The defensiveness in her voice put Natasha’s teeth on edge. “You two aren’t the only ones who get to defend this family.”

He raked a hand through his hair, and then studied his wife.

“Do you two still think I need to stay for this part?” She kept her tone as dry as possible.

“Yes,” they both said, then Clint laughed a little and so did Laura. It was a snicker of sound, breaking the damn. Anger still reflected in his eyes but he folded his arms and chuckled as he stared at his wife. The conflict between his emotional cues gave Natasha a headache, but she’d been down this route before.

He was furious.

But he was also impressed.

Laura even relaxed a fraction.

So that was something.

“I appreciate everything you said, Laura,” Clint began, his tone evening. “I appreciate the fact you want to protect Nat. I’ve always been grateful for you.”

Natasha tossed back the vodka. Ringside seat to this fight was not where she wanted to be. Because she didn't mistake his tone for anything else. It was still a fight. They'd had plenty of their own.

“You’re amazing,” Clint told her, continuing to soften her up before he landed the hidden strike. “You’re _never_ doing that again.”

Laura’s expression tightened. “Contrary to what you might be considering at the moment,” she said slowly, motioning from him to Natasha then back again. “I’m not actually under your command or on the team or in any way someone who needs to do that.”

“You’re still the mother of my kids,” Clint stated, his tone hardening. “And an intelligent woman. That was a gamble, a risk—you’ve done it. I can’t walk it back, we might be able to bury it, but you _can’t_ do that again.”

“Or what?” Laura raised her eyebrows glancing from Clint to Natasha then back. “Or what? I sit at home when something like this happens—again—and I wait, worry, and try to dissect the news to figure out if one or both of you is never coming back? Is that what?”

Refilling the glass with vodka, Natasha waited.

“Laura, you’re not listening to me…”

“Oh, I’m listening, but you’re not hearing me. For more than twenty years—well over half my life, we’ve done it your way.”

Clint just stared at her.

“…I had no idea the hell you were going through over Loki. I had no idea that you’d lost the trust and security at SHIELD or that they’d taken Nat away. And every time I thought—okay this is it, you’re done. You’re going to come home and stay home, you don’t. You’re back in it again and you disappeared—_for months_. Both of you. The world was hunting you. The government is painting horror stories about you—especially you,” she said to Natasha before turning to Clint again. “Stories your kids see. Stories they hear. Stories that terrify them…”

“You mean like hearing their mother on the phone, crying about how worried and scared she is for me while talking to their father?” Natasha swirled the vodka in the glass. “Just checking if these are the things we’re worried about scaring them with.”

“Nat…” Clint glared at her.

She shrugged, but didn’t take her gaze off Laura.

“Lila,” Laura said, it wasn’t a question.

A single nod.

“I wish she hadn’t heard that, but—maybe that just proves my point.”

Clint switched his glare from Natasha to Laura. “Lila eavesdropping proves your point?”

“We _worry_ about you. We get scared. We feel helpless. We want to do something to help you so we can get you back safely. You want to make me feel bad for standing up for you…” Laura ran a hand over her face. “You know what. We’re all adults. You choose to live your lives the way you do and I can choose to support it, vocally.”

“Yep,” Natasha said slowly before Clint could launch into the tirade practically boiling in the bulging vein on his forehead. “You are an adult. You can handle anything. Go on the radio, keep talking, defend me. Lob verbal grenades at madmen who have power and the will to use it. What are they going to do?”

“Nat.” Warning echoed through the single syllable of her name, but she ignored Clint. If he hadn’t wanted her to be involved, he should have let her leave.

“The more voices you have on your side,” Laura said. “It matters.”

“Yes,” Natasha said simply. “It does. So keep talking, be a face and a name—Ladyhawke in Iowa. So there’s no immediate leap to Laura Barton not for anyone who doesn’t know you well enough to _recognize _your voice. But make enough noise, you can start to annoy the right people or maybe you find that one Internet troll who likes to field conspiracy theories—I can point you at whole sections of the dark web where they get off on that. They link Ladyhawke to this mother in Iowa, wow, no real story there but wait—her last name is Barton. Okay not a leap to get there. But now…you post it on one little obscure place. No big deal. Nobody sees that. Until they do…”

“Tasha, c’mon,” Clint said quietly. He knew where she was going with this. He had to know. It was a road they’d both been down.

“So now, they know who you are and they know you might be linked to Clint, funny, hahaha. They don’t really care, but _they_ aren’t the problem. The problem is men like Ross have assets who work for them and they are always looking for an angle. A simple web search turns up the theory, no big deal except Laura Barton is defending the Black Widow? Coincidence? Maybe. Put a few man-hours in on it.”

Laura stared at her, her eyes wide.

“Okay, so now we have a mother and three kids in a farmhouse in Iowa, might be linked to an Avenger, maybe all of them. But what do you do with it? You keep an eye on them, because the smart thing to do is to know when to leverage what you know. Do you need the Avengers off your back? Do you want to co-opt Clint to have him take out your enemies? Or maybe you want to do both—they use you to force him to kill us.”

“Jesus, Nat…” Even as he said it, he didn’t stop her. Natasha didn’t take her gaze off Laura’s eyes.

“Now this is where the fun begins…because how do they leverage you? They take you—if we’re lucky they take you alive. If we’re not, they kill you because the kids are easier to control and they leave your body there as a message. Let’s say the take you, now they have you and they torture you to prove they can do it and to make Clint understand exactly what will happen if he doesn’t comply. That’s the best-case scenario, because that person has a vested interest in keeping you alive so we’ll do what they want and it gives us time to find you.”

“She gets it, Nat,” Clint said quietly.

“Oh, no. She doesn’t.” She filled her glass one more time, then looked at Laura. “The worst-case scenario is you’re taken by an old enemy or maybe even one we don’t know we have. You’re taken and you’re tortured repeatedly on video so that your pain is used to torment someone else. It won’t matter what you do or how hard you fight, you’re going to be beaten over and over again. They might get creative and vary their methods of torture, but never mistake it for anything other than torture. That pain that you suffer, it’s magnified because you know the people you care about have to witness it. They have to endure it and you can’t keep it from them. No matter the outcome, whether you’re saved or not—you’re never the same after something like that. No matter how many times it happens.”

There were tears on Laura’s cheeks and Natasha saluted her with the vodka, then tossed it back before she set the empty glass on the counter.

“And that’s what happened last week. Except much worse.”

Tears spilled down Laura’s cheeks and she pressed a hand to her mouth. A muscle ticked in Clint’s jaw and he wrapped a hand around Laura’s nape and pulled her to him and his eyes held rebuke and apology.

Hurting Laura hadn’t been the goal, but making her understand?

“I’m sorry,” Laura said quietly, turning her cheek against Clint’s shoulder and staring at Natasha. “I wanted to help you. I still want to help you. I care what happens.”

“I know,” Natasha told her. “I really do.”

“We do,” Clint reiterated, pulling back and bracing his hands on her shoulders. Laura looked up at him. “Believe me, Laur. We know. Now, we need you to know why I’ve done all this, why I don’t want you out there, why we’ll do everything we can to keep you and the kids safe.”

“Then what can I do?”

With five simple words, she deflated all of the tension out of Clint’s posture. “You keep being you. Just… no more radio shows?”

“What about my online groups?”

“Yeah,” Natasha said. “I don’t need to do this part of the conversation. Make yourselves comfortable…”

“Where are you going?” Clint glanced up, frowning. Yeah, he didn’t want her disappearing after that. She got it. But his focus needed to be right here with Laura. Natasha would be fine. Eventually.

She always was.

“I’m going over to Steve’s room for a bit. Then maybe back to the Tower. I need some time.”

He nodded slowly, then glanced at Laura.

“Nat?” Laura asked. “Are we okay?”

“We’re family,” Natasha said. “Pretty sure by definition we’re not okay.”

That earned her a laugh. Snagging the bottle of vodka, she toasted them and headed for the door. It had been a strange day—pun not intended, but still somewhat _good_. It had been dark and light. Tense and relaxed. Strained and easy. From the wargames she'd thrilled in to the lunch and shopping she'd relaxed with, and better because she'd gotten time with Steve and James. She'd gotten to see all of them relax. The laughter. The warmth. The confrontation with Laura had been necessary if regrettable. But Clint knew now and hopefully Laura understood. Natasha didn't want to be annoyed with her. So maybe it had been a ping-pong of emotions, but still a good day. 

Maybe, just maybe, she'd gotten some answers.

The hall was quiet as she moved to Steve’s door and put her palm on the reader. It unlocked and let her inside. It had been a while since she’d been in here. It had a similar layout to her rooms, but everything was far less cluttered. Most likely because no one had strip searched his rooms. Everything had a place and everything was in it. She made her way into his kitchen and located a glass. Carrying it and the bottle, she walked over to his desk. It looked like he’d just gotten up. There was an open sketchbook… James.

He’d been sketching James. Because one of the last times they’d been here he’d still been looking for him. There was a book on memory loss in the corner of the desk. There was a photo on the other. Setting the bottle down, she picked it up. It was her and Steve. But… when?

She was on his back, arms around his neck, her thighs hitched to his hips and she was laughing. There was someone just behind them in the picture, but the focus was on them and it was only an arm. But—oh that had to be Thor. After New York, before D.C. if her hair was any indication.

Why didn’t she remember this one?

A sick feeling coiled in her stomach. Because Pierce was still at SHIELD and she was still…

Fuck. She put the picture back down and wandered away from the desk. She didn't even remember seeing the picture before. Had it always been there? Or was it a new addition?

“Natasha?” Concern welled within Friday’s voice. “You seem distressed.”

“Just tired,” she told her. “Tired of all the things I don’t know.”

“Dinner has been removed from the oven and is cooling, though no one has gathered at the table yet. They are waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Barton.”

“You might want to let them know they might be a bit…and to go ahead and eat if they’re hungry.”

She should go check on the kids, but Steve and Tony and Wanda—they were all out there. Peter was probably back, too.

“I will let them know. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“What time is it in Wakanda?”

“They are five hours ahead.” That would put it close to eleven there.

Pulling her phone out, she stared at all the messages waiting that she’d been ignoring. Life could only be put on hold for so long.

“Can you contact, King T’Challa and see if he is available for a call?”

“Certainly.”

Natasha tossed back the vodka.

“And Friday? Prepare my file for transmission along with Doctor Strange’s diagnosis.”

“Of course.”

The sun had long since set, but outside the floodlights illuminated the snow and the woods. Security meant they maintained vigilance; it was also why the tree line had been pushed back.

“Captain Rogers has sent word that dinner will be served in thirty minutes. Mr. and Mrs. Barton have also left your quarters.”

“Thank you, Friday.”

“His Majesty is available for video or voice call.”

“Video is fine.” Natasha turned away from the desk and moved over to Steve’s sofa. She’d crashed here more than once. Kind of like when he’d had an apartment. Sitting, she put her empty glass aside. The vodka was almost gone. A holo screen appeared, rippling for a moment before it stabilized and T’Challa glanced up.

“Good evening, Natasha. I am pleased to see you looking well.”

“Thank you, it’s good to see you.”

Dressed in a casual top and seated behind a desk, he looked as though he’d still been hard at work despite the darkness reflected in the window behind him. That the king kept late hours was not really a surprise.

“We were very happy to hear of your return and survival. I wish we had been able to be of more assistance during your absence.”

Such polite words. “Your assistance is why I’m calling, though I am sorry I didn’t get to spend more time with you and Nakia at the party.”

“We left early,” he said. “But enough of those pleasantries. What can I do for you?”

“You offered to put me in contact with your physicians and your sister.”

“I recall, we were going to try to schedule a call the weekend after the party but…” He spread his hands. Neither of them needed for him to elaborate. “I can most certainly arrange for you to speak to her and I would be more than happy, as I’ve stated before, to have you come for a visit.”

“I appreciate that. I’ve spoken with a neurosurgeon and he’s offered me a diagnosis and some suggestions for treatment. Though he is concerned our facilities currently lack some of the more precision equipment.”

“I understand. When would you like to speak to Shuri? She is probably in her lab, right now…”

“I thought I’d send over my file and ask if you could share it with her and a select few physicians, they can review it and the doctor’s diagnosis. I would think this would allow us to all be on the same page and keep from having to repeat too many tests.”

With a light chuckle, T’Challa nodded. “Absolutely. I am sending Friday the correct address for the file, it will go directly to Shuri and she can then disseminate it to the specialists she feels the need to speak to.”

“Thank you,” Natasha said, leaning forward. “It might be a few days before I could even plan a visit. We have holidays here and the Committee still needs to be dealt with.” If Tony would ever talk to her about it.

“Yes, I suspended my meetings with many of the other Committee members once Tony made me aware of the memorandum they were circulating and the plans they were making. I believe any negotiation must be made in good faith. But I also believe we need to not let this lie too long. The point has been made.”

And she was back.

“Perhaps we can schedule some time to discuss new strategies. I still think giving the members their shot to lecture, yell, or interrogate me helps to relieve some of the pressure and earns us some small measure of goodwill. Whether we can leverage that or not…” It was Natasha’s turn to spread her hands.

“We are of like minds on the topic.” Something chimed off to the side and T’Challa chuckled. “Shuri has received your file and she is telling me off for giving her such interesting reading material. She may not sleep again and I should consider a new espresso machine to keep her fueled.”

Natasha grinned. “Perhaps we should have waited until tomorrow.”

“Not at all. When Shuri is engaged in a new project, she is not redesigning my suit. This is a win for both of us.”

Now she laughed for real. “Thank you, T’Challa.”

“Of course,” he said, inclining his head. “We will be in touch.”

“Until then…”

The connection ended and she leaned back against the sofa. There was a sense of satisfaction in sending the file. Even if they couldn’t help or if they couldn’t offer anything more than what Strange already had, there was something to be said for forward momentum.

When the door opened to let Steve in, she smiled. “Dinner time?”

“Hmm-hmm. But we can steal away if you want…”

“I’m good. I had some quiet.” She rose carrying the glass toward the kitchen.

“Not that I mind you being in here, Angel, but what happened to your quarters?”

“Family,” Natasha said. “I left them to talk.” Crossing to where he stood, she studied him. “How are you doing?”

“It’s been a good day,” he said. “But I’m about ready to go back to the Tower.”

“Kids wearing you out?”

“Unexpectedly,” Steve said, a hint of wonder on his face. “Could you ever imagine someone so little wearing you…” He hesitated and she could read the near-instant regret in his eyes.

“Don’t,” she said, rising on her tiptoes and pressing her fingers to his lips. “Don’t police your words. Kids are exhausting. They are always on. They love you guys. But we can head back now if you’d rather skip dinner?”

He pressed a kiss to her finger before she removed it. “Dinner. Then escape?”

“Sounds like a plan.”


	22. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is making some choices

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Choices**

**Natasha**

Dinner went even better than she expected. Peter looped Lila and Coop into sitting with him and Tony claimed one of the chairs next to her while James took the other. Steve was directly across sitting next to Sam. While they hadn’t isolated her totally from the kids, they did give her some insulation. Clint sat at her end of the table, too while Laura took the other. That earned a couple of looks—mostly from Wanda. The tension might have been a low-lying hum, but it was there.

Peter got word during dinner that his aunt wouldn’t be leaving the hospital anytime soon. The storm that had seemed to relent on them that morning had redoubled in force. It was coming down steadily again. If not for the quinjets, they might actually have to stay at the Compound. A needle of guilt punctured her for being glad she had a way out.

As dinner wound down and Peter led the kids in clearing the plates with Wanda to help supervise, Laura caught her gaze. She wanted to talk. As much as Natasha would rather skip it, she also couldn’t do that to Laura. Pushing away from the table, she said, “Are all the bags on the quinjet?”

James said, “Most of them. Anything else you want on there?” Besides herself?

“No, I’m good. Going to go catch up with Laura for a minute.”

Steve raised his eyebrows and even Tony gave her an odd look.

“It’s fine guys, I’ll be ready to go in a couple of minutes.”

With a lift of her chin, she nodded Laura toward the hallway leading to the offices. It was slightly closer and far less comfortable. Yes, she didn’t want to spend the night hashing this out.

Again.

Friday had notified her that Sharon had moved out of her office, so while it was empty, it was also Natasha’s again. She felt more than saw Clint’s gaze tracking them. She gave him five minutes; ten tops and he’d likely follow after what he interrupted earlier.

That was fine. She really was rooting for these two to figure it out.

Inside, she slid up to sit on the desk and shoved the rolling chair over for Laura to sit in.

Closing the door, Laura shook her head. “You don’t have to look like you’re facing a firing squad.”

“I’ve faced one,” Natasha told her. “I didn’t care what they thought or chose to do.”

“Touché.” Instead of sitting, Laura leaned back against the door. “Nat… I am sorry. You’re right, I didn’t think about someone tracking who I was or what they could do with it. We’ve been safe at the farm all this time, no one looks at us.”

“Because we work really hard to make sure they don’t,” Natasha reminded her. “I know you don’t see it because we don’t show you what we’re doing. I’m not going to talk for Clint, he can tell you his reasons and you two really need to figure this out. If that means he goes back to Iowa…” She’d miss him but…

“He’s never going back to Iowa,” Laura told her flatly. “For vacations, maybe. But he’s happier here doing this work. I’ve accepted that.” But she would never like it.

“Then he’s an idiot,” Natasha sighed. “Laura… I know I keep a lot of secrets. Part of that is a default for me; if you don’t need to know something then I just don’t tell you. If knowing would bother you… I don’t tell you. All those stories about Clint and I being lovers? That’s all they are. Stories. That’s all they’ve ever been. To my knowledge, he told you about the one time I kissed him when it wasn’t for an op.”

Laura nodded slowly.

“He made it very clear he was not available. That was that. Do I adore him? Yes. I do. He’s my best friend.”

“He’s your family, Nat. You never have to defend that to me.”

“Well, before him—at least right now, I don’t remember having one, at least not all of it.” She raised her hands forestalling questions. “That’s a subject for another day, what you need to know, is those stories? The fact they kept bringing it up? It’s because we _let_ everyone think we were. We never denied it and we’ve shared hotel rooms plenty of times. But we let those stories play out the way they did because if someone decided to go after Clint—and there was a lot of animosity after Loki—they would be looking at a way to hurt him. If I was his lover, I’d be the target.”

Frowning, Laura nodded slowly. “I know that… I mean I know that here.” She tapped her head. “My heart and my gut, they don’t always like it especially with all the secrets.”

“I know. But I’d rather they came after me than you. Protecting him—protecting him is second nature but it’s the same way I feel about you. Maybe not the exact same but pretty damn close.”

A faint smile curved her lips. “I know that, too. Nat, there’s a reason we think of you as family. I couldn’t hate you if I tried and trust me there were a few times I thought it would be so much easier to lay the blame for all of this at your feet.”

“If it would help…”

“It wouldn’t, because it would cost me your friendship and I’m really worried that I’ve done that already.”

Gripping the edges of the desk, Natasha turned the words over in her mind carefully before she said anything. “Your group—it’s doing a lot of good. At least as far as public opinion goes. It’s about fifty-fifty right now on whether I’m an axe murderer but—hey, gotta start somewhere. Friday has been tracking the positive press mentions and they’re up in huge numbers over the last few weeks.”

“The water crested the dam last week. I really wish…” Laura grimaced. “I wish last week hadn’t happened to you for so many reasons, but I wish you had been here to see it. It’s going to continue, there are a lot more stories coming, more people coming forward, and beyond the group I work with, there’s the Black Widow League.”

Natasha sighed. “Tony got us the shirts.”

“Good. You don’t approve of action and I get why. I get that it worries you and you’re angry for the same reasons I’d be angry at Coop and Lila for endangering themselves recklessly.”

“Concerned.”

“Whatever,” Laura said drily. “I’m familiar with your stance on anger. I still think it’s crap. I’ve seen you and Clint fight. You do get angry.”

Natasha shrugged. “I don’t want to be angry with you.”

“I don’t want you to be angry at me either,” Laura admitted. “But I want to help. I need to. The group is doing great things. I can stay off the radio; I can try and work that out. I wasn’t going on television or any video properties and I wanted to reach out to listeners…there’s a podcast series coming.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Natasha said, “Okay. Are you recording it? Are you working with someone else? Do they know who you are? How are you recording it? How are you transmitting the recordings?”

Laura raised a hand. “I said coming and no, I haven’t recorded anything. It’s a conversation between me and three others in the group—ideally, we’ll meet over an internet chat then record it and one of our more prominent members will post it through a third party.”

So. Many. Things.

Who were these people in the group? Were any of them plants? How much vetting could this group actually do? Or would they even consider?

Tipping her head back, Natasha stared at the ceiling. “Did you tell Clint?”

“Not yet, we’re still working on the fact I did the radio show. He’s—very angry.”

Natasha nodded slowly. “How committed to this idea are you?”

“Podcasts can reach an entirely different demographic. More than 56 percent of podcast listeners are men, and about 84 percent are under the age of 55. This is key when trying to motivate voters and people who make laws. It’s not necessarily the same people listening to the radio or watching the evening news or the talk shows or reading the magazines… we even have a YouTube channel.”

The last bit came out a mumble.

“And you’ve only been working on this for a couple of months?”

“Well…. One of the groups I’m in has kind of been talking about it since late last year, then the Accords happened and…” Laura eyed her. “You might be surprised by how many moms admire you.”

Natasha snorted.

“No, I’m serious. You hold your own on a team fueled by testosterone and if you blow past all the sexual innuendo and stupidity in the news, you give little girls someone to look up to and before you scoff—Lila admires you tremendously and so do I.”

“Thank you,” she told her and couldn’t fathom how that happened.

“You’re welcome. Nat—tell me how to fix this. I don’t want you to go back to the Tower tonight on a sour note, especially with everything else you have to cope with. I don’t want to be more pressure.”

“You’re not. We’re going to be fine, but—before you do any more recordings or uploads. I need to build you something that can mask everything about your location and identity. I can probably get Tony and Friday to help me mock up something and test it. We have search and destroys that run to kill off data about us and we’ve used it to make sure nothing got leaked about you but that would probably obliterate your podcast.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t destroy the radio show.”

Natasha didn’t say a word.

“Nat—you didn’t?”

She shrugged. “Not yet. Had I heard it the day it broadcast, probably would have at this point, it’s been downloaded in too many places and replayed. Killing it off would only draw attention to it.”

“Well, I’d say I’m sorry…”

“But you’re not apologizing.”

“No… so we’re okay?”

“Yes, Laura,” Natasha told her. “We’re okay… um… actually Friday?”

“Yes, Natasha?”

“Are you done with the scan Tony did of the photo?”

“Almost, would you like to see it?”

“Yes, please.” A holo screen opened and the photo projected.

Laura went from looking at her to staring at the screen. “Oh my god, Nat is that…”

“That’s Mary.”

Laura took a step toward her and then froze, putting a hand over her mouth as she looked at the image again. “Nat—she’s beautiful.”

“Yes,” Natasha said, drinking in the picture. “She was.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes when Laura looked back at her, but Nat just stared at the picture. “One of the other things that happened in the last few weeks. I remembered her—having her, running away from the cabin with her, getting here to New York with her. The day I was willing to let Clint kill me?” She finally looked at Laura. “It was her birthday.”

“Oh God,” Laura shook her head. “Natasha…”

“It’s what it is… but I thought you should know. You’re right, somehow deep down I knew. And I found a friend who—knew me then. He had this photo.”

“And he never showed you before?”

“No, I told him to never tell me unless I asked. To not offer it. Because I had no way of knowing if I would be me when I saw him again. But I remembered meeting him a long time before I thought I had—when I asked him, he gave me that. He’s been carrying it for four decades, just waiting for me to ask.”

“I hate that I can’t hug you right now,” Laura complained and she had her arms folded as if holding herself back.

“I’m getting better,” Natasha told her. “But thank you for not just—doing it.”

“I do know how to listen,” Laura said with a sniff, and then she swiped at her own tears. “God, I’m going to be waterworks now.” She looked at the photo again. “I really wish…”

She trailed off as if unable to complete the thought.

“Me, too.” The job they’d done on enhancing the image was spectacular. It was so clear and it made Natasha want to reach in and touch her face. She hadn’t been kidding when she told Steve she was happy, but this—this just made her happy and desperately sad in the same moment. “I need to go back to the Tower. Probably going to stay there—maybe wrap some presents and stuff tomorrow. Then come back out on Monday depending on what the weather is doing.”

“You are coming out here for Christmas.” Laura would not take no for an answer.

“On Christmas Day, yes. Eve is at the Tower.”

“That’s fair.”

Rising, Natasha closed the holo screen and then said, “Keep talking to Clint. I’ll look into what I can do to mask your Internet presence. If you’re not going to stop—then let me do what I can to minimize the risk.” How many people were in this group? So many background checks.

“All right. I can do that.”

“Laura? For the record? I don’t always take Clint’s side. He doesn’t always choose me.”

She grimaced. “I know, I was mad…”

“I know. You’re allowed.”

That got her a snort. “Thank you.”

Without missing a beat, Natasha said, “You’re welcome.”

When Laura opened the door, Clint and James both straightened from where they were leaning against the wall. “Subtle much?” Laura said, her tone arch. “Where are our children?”

“Getting sugared up with Uncle Tony while they harass Uncle Steve,” Clint said drily.

“We’re hiding from the sugared-up kids,” James added. “Strategic withdrawal.”

Laura groaned. “Clint! Really?”

“No, not really,” Clint said with a shake of his head. “Nate’s down and out for the count. Lila and Coop are watching a movie with Wanda. They’re introducing her to _Frozen_.”

With a huff of relief, Laura said, “Well, we could get that wine now…” She glanced over her shoulder but Natasha shook her head.

“I’m tired and we still have to fly back and get the quinjet offloaded.” Not that she expected to do any heavy lifting based on the expression in James’ eyes. Then again, going back and getting into pajamas, fuzzy socks, and hot cocoa with a movie sounded pretty damn good, too.

“Hey, give me a sec with Nat?” Clint said first to Laura then to James.

James offered Laura his arm. “Ma’am?”

“Oh, don’t ma’am me,” Laura chided, but she took his arm. “I’ll see you soon, Nat.”

“Yep.” Hands in her pockets, Nat leaned against the doorjamb of her office. After they were down the hall, she raised her brows. “Long or short talk?”

“Whatever you need it to be. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Nat.” It was a scold, but a light one.

“I’m fine—I don’t know what was in that thing Strange had me do earlier, not really but—I’m fine. I’m not as raw. Yes, I’m worried about Laura, but…”

“We’ll handle it,” Clint said, finishing for her. At her nod, he added, “She had to know we would.”

“She has to know to tell us ahead of time. It’s easier to prevent than it is to clean up.”

“I’m pretty sure you made that clear.”

Without apology, she said, “Good. How are you?”

“Losing my mind. Am I selfish for wanting them here? All the time?”

“Yes,” Natasha said. “But being selfish and wanting your family isn’t wrong.”

“I’m scared,” he said slowly.

“I know…whatever you do, I’ve got your back. We all will and we’ll have theirs, too.”

“Okay, I need you to suck it up for a minute because I need a hug.”

Unfolding her arms, she closed the distance and wrapped them around him as he closed his around her.

Against her hair, he whispered, “Thank you, I couldn’t do that to her.”

“Yeah well, you didn’t have to because I’m here.” She got it. Scaring her was not what Clint ever wanted to do even if Laura needed it for the reality check. “Keep talking to her. You guys can do this, I know you can.”

Leaning away, he smirked a little. “You, voting for the romance and the happily ever after?”

“Sure why not? I’m a mom. Anything can happen.” It was the first time she’d been able to say that without crushing pain.

“You’re a smartass, too.”

“You get that for free.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t give up.”

“Not planning on it,” he retorted, then pressed a kiss to her forehead before he let her go. “You don’t get to give up either.”

“It’s not in my DNA,” she said with a shrug. “Now, I’m leaving. I need to just go and be for a bit.”

“Go… be back here soon though.”

She flicked her fingers at him. “Monday, probably.”

They walked together out to the common room where James waited, watching Tony and Steve on yet another level of Mario Kart. Sam and Sharon were absent as was Vision. Peter leaned on the back of the sofa next to James. They all looked ready to go, they were just waiting for her.

Clint diverted toward the kitchen and she caught the murmur of him talking to Laura. Closing the distance, she slid an arm around James and he lifted his and glanced down before settling it on her shoulders.

The buzzing hum was relatively quiet.

Leaning into him, she watched them race over the candy-colored hills and around the obstacles. It was funnier when you took into account they were both leaning with their vehicles.

Funny and nice.

One more game wouldn’t hurt any of them.

~~~

The flight back was bumpy. The headwinds were impressive, as were the reports of rotation in the storm—hurricane-like conditions with a polar vortex. Messy and dangerous and though the next day was Sunday, Christmas shopping would normally be the height right now for last minute gifts and the city was shutting down.

More, the power demands were going to be exorbitant. She navigated toward the Tower, rotating the engines to keep them steady as they approached the landing pad. “Do we want to park it up here? Or do we want to find a way to put her in the garage?”

That got her a look from Steve. He was never quite a fan when she put quinjets in narrow spaces or where he wasn’t quite sure they should go. Tony leaned over her seat and studied the city. “What’s our winds looking like, Baby Girl?”

“We are experiencing gusts up to fifty mph, but the snow accumulation is expected to reach records according to the forecasters currently cluttering all the channels with breaking news.”

Natasha pressed her lips together to contain her laughter. It grew somewhat difficult when Tony gave her a smirk. “I blame you for this, Red. You know that right.”

“Yep,” she said unapologetically.

“Hmm…” Tony rolled his head from side to side. “Friday, give me measurements on the deck. What’s our load-bearing versus ice and snow?”

“Current infrastructure supports a load-bearing up to ten feet of snow in addition to five feet of ice, but thermal sensors should keep that to a minimum. The only risk is exposure, Boss, on the way to and from the quinjet.”

“All right,” Tony moved over and dropped into the co-pilot’s chair. He pulled up the maps and the forecasts as she closed in on the Tower. Scratching his chin thoughtfully, he considered the schematics. “You can put this in the garage?”

“I can put this anywhere.” It wasn’t bragging.

“Do not test that theory,” Steve said. “Just believe her.”

“What did you do, Red?”

“Train tunnel,” she told him, then nodded toward the Tower. “Make your call.”

Tony snorted and shook his head. “That I’d like to see.”

“No, thank you,” Steve called.

“Aww, c’mon Stevie, I bet Natalia can do it.”

“I know she can do it, but I don’t need to see it again or for it to be necessary.”

“It worked,” she called over her shoulder. “That’s the important part.”

“Landing pad,” Tony said. “Friday, let’s put the Legion on standby to de-ice if necessary, but we’re faster getting out of here from above ground.”

“You got it, Boss. I am switching on the landing pad lights for you Natasha.”

“Thank you.” Conditions were getting worse. The lit Tower provided the best beacon along with the radar, but Natasha would rather eyeball it. The landing pad lit up and two great beacons blasted upward, visible through the sideways slewing snow.

Gusts buffeted the quinjet, one that actually tried to turn it as she increased the engines to compensate and then she completed the rotation before setting down. “Initiate docking clamps.” They didn’t usually worry about those. But with this wind.

The clank of them locking onto the quinjet and securing it echoed through the vessel. She began cycling the engines down, then left the shield generator up to help displace the snow. Tony frowned as he checked one of the screens.

“Problem?” Steve asked and Natasha leaned over. It was the weather radar and the storm was massive.

“No, just trying to get a feel for this. The fact we’re getting precipitation off the coast and polar vortex is going to make things messy.”

“You should call Sam,” Natasha said. “He and Sharon both have flights to go home, they might get stuck here.”

“Yeah. Maybe one of us could fly them out.”

“Not it,” Tony said as he made a shooing motion for Steve to backup before he climbed out of his seat.

They didn’t open the ramp until they were ready to go, fortunately, they all had heavier gear onboard, including their snow gear from the wargames.

James and Steve loaded up on bags, they handed a few off to Peter and as expected, she didn’t get any. You could take the men out of the 40s, but you couldn’t take the 40s out of them.

“We good?” Tony asked.

James glanced down at her, bags shifting and then he reached for her hand. She clasped it as the ramp opened and the wind screamed inside.

“Wow,” Peter yelled as he and Steve plowed out first. She and James were right behind Tony. The wind snatched her knit hat right off her head and it went soaring.

With a laugh, she moved with James and he kept his grip firm. She was pretty sure the wind wasn’t going to toss her off the building and if it did. Well, she’d lay even odds Tony would catch her.

That said, she’d rather skip the experience.

Friday opened the doors as soon as they reached them. Inside, everyone paused to shudder and stomp off the snow. Natasha glanced outside. It had gathered in little drifts along the deck, frosting right up against the windows and between the wind and the flurries, it was reduced visibility between the buildings. It had been pretty awesome to take out the snowmobile the day before. It would probably be even better now…

“Are we going to do anything?” Peter asked and she glanced away from the window. “You know movie… hot cocoa?”

Steve chuckled.

“Subtle,” Tony said with a nod. “Real subtle.”

Flicking a look at Steve she raised her eyebrows. He’d been tired earlier, too.

He shrugged and glanced at James who nodded once. “Sure,” Steve said. “We need to go drop this off.”

“I need to change, too,” Natasha said. “Up here or Steve’s floor?”

“I’m easy,” Tony said. “Wherever you want us, Red.”

She snorted. “Steve, do you have a preference?”

“Up here is fine, Angel. Let’s go get you changed.”

“Awesome,” Peter said and then grinned at her.

“You can go grab and shower and get change, too,” she told him.

“Oh…”

“Trust me, Peter. You can tell you had fun today.”

He gaped at her as she shooed him toward the elevator.

“We’ll be back in a few Tony.”

“Sounds good, I’ll go find blankets and pillows…”

Natasha chuckled. They stopped on the way down to let Peter off on her floor. “Shower, changed, then check in with your aunt.”

“Will do… I’m guessing we’re not going to be able to run that route anytime soon?”

“Not until the weather clears. But maybe we can look at the route, pull maps—does Friday have all the details?”

“Most of it, I can get Karen to share it.”

She nodded slowly. “Go ahead and do that. It might not work, but we might see something. Can’t know until we research.”

“I’ll hurry.” Then he was heading toward his room.

On Steve’s floor, they got the bags sorted and then she headed to her room to change. She stripped everything and then headed for the bathroom, but just before she turned on the water she sensed more than heard James.

He leaned against the open door of the bathroom and studied her.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to ask you a question and I’d like you to think about the answer before you respond.”

“Okay.”

“Do you actually need a shower?”

Natasha frowned. “It’s been a long day, we had wargames…”

“And you showered after those. You showered before we went, too.”

“Then we went out for lunch and shopping. And back to the Compound for dinner and to visit.”

“So,” James asked. “Do you really need a shower?”

“I can want one.” But she didn’t like the implications of the question.

“Absolutely.” He shifted his stance. “Except, I don’t think you _want_ the showers. I think _you_ think you need them.”

Running her hands through her hair, she pursed her lips. Had she been showering that frequently? Arms folded, she lifted her shoulders. “I didn’t bathe for days.”

“I know,” James said carefully. “I’m not blaming or pointing fingers or even criticizing. I just want to know if you’re aware of what you’re doing.”

“I’m compensating, trying to get clean and I’m not sure that’s going to happen—at least not until I get him out of here.” She tapped her head.

“Okay, I’ll leave you to your shower then…”

“Wait.”

He paused.

“I’m being—difficult.”

James actually snorted. “Hardly. I thought today was a better day for you until we got to this evening and whatever happened with Laura.”

“Semi-unrelated and meeting with Stephen… it afforded some insights.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I want to talk to you and Steve before we go up…”

“Okay, then take your shower.” He smiled but it didn’t remove the concern from his eyes.

“James…”

“I know Natalia, you will be fine. But every time I see one of those shadows it makes me wish we’d been faster or that I’d gotten to make his death hurt more.”

Grinning, she said. “I cut his hand off. Pretty sure that had to hurt some.”

He nodded once.

Six minutes later, she padded out of the bedroom in yoga pants, a long-sleeved shirt and fuzzy socks. Steve set a wrapped package down by the tree and she lifted an eyebrow.

“You’re putting a present out early where I can get to it easily?”

“It’s not for you,” Steve retorted.

“Might still be fun to see what it is.”

James stared at her. “Natalia, you didn’t…”

“The tape slits very easily and I can replace it seamlessly enough that no one even realized I did it.”

“Every single present that Christmas,” Steve said drily. “And the only reason I know is I walked in as she was resealing them.”

“Well, half the fun of Christmas is opening the presents.”

“So that’s why you don’t want to put anything out until Christmas Eve,” James said slowly.

“Pretty much,” Steve said though he gave her a fond look.

“I promise I won’t open anything early or open and re-seal it.” She held up her hand. “I’d say scout’s honor, but you always tell me I wasn’t a scout. So Widow’s honor?”

With a grin, Steve said, “Duly noted.”

“What did you want to talk to us about, Doll?”

“I debated just letting this sit until after Christmas, but you guys want to talk about stuff even if it’s the not-fun news.” Both straightened and some of the good humor disappeared. “So—after talking to Stephen earlier and going over his diagnosis—I called T’Challa. I had Friday send over my file and Stephen’s recommendations and diagnosis. T’Challa had us send it directly to his sister, and she is going over it and will share it with whatever specialists there they have.”

James blew out a breath and Steve nodded slowly.

“I don’t know how long it will take her to go over it—but as soon as they have something they are going to reach out. There’s a chance if they can help, that I’ll have to go there.” It wasn’t even a question, she knew they would go with her.

“Tony will likely want to be there, too,” Steve said. “And Clint.”

“I know, but I’d like to minimize how many we tell.”

“You don’t want to tell Peter,” James said.

“For one, no. He’s already worried about me seeing a neurosurgeon, that kid has enough on his plate and until we know what, I don’t want to freak him out anymore. The same goes for Wanda.”

“Nat,” Steve said. “She can handle it.”

“She’ll want to help.” Natasha leaned on the counter and stared at him. “Steve—she’d want to try and unlock them for me.”

“After what happened, you aren’t comfortable with it.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m not comfortable with her having to live through anything she opens.” It was the one drawback of her abilities and Natasha wouldn’t inflict her past on anyone.

James grimaced. “She relives the memories?”

“When she attacked us during Ultron, she ripped open old memories of the Red Room… memories from close to my graduation.”

With a sigh, Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s why you were so out of it afterward…”

“I only got fragments, but it was like being there all over again and then suddenly I wasn’t. Later, Wanda asked me about it. That’s when she told me, she experienced it with us…as us.” It was also why she’d been so convinced Tony would stop at nothing to save the world. She’d seen whatever he had.

“That’s discomforting.” She and Steve had never talked about what they’d seen and Wanda had been circumspect in sharing none of the personal thoughts she’d pulled that day.

“Then we leave the witch out of it,” James said. “We keep the circle small, but I’d reconsider on Peter. He’s a good kid.”

“He’s attached, James and it will scare him.”

“Sometimes a kid has to be scared, it’s better than being blindsided by it later. You can explain it to him or we can, keep him grounded so he knows what’s going on.”

“And if he decides he wants to go with us?” she asked.

“Then we deal with it one thing at a time.” Though she couldn’t discount his previous suggestion. Peter wanted to be a part of things and he was getting close to all of them.

“I’ll think about it,” she exhaled then straightened. They had another four minutes and they needed to get up there. “I want to help him with his Vulture problem, have my dates with the two of you, celebrate the holidays and go to Montana and maybe resolve the Accords before we go to Wakanda—if we go.”

“You want to put world peace on that agenda?” James asked, his tone dry.

“No, that’s on Tony’s, I’m more realistic.”

Steve actually grinned. “We’ll figure it out. Have you decided when you’re cornering Tony to talk to him about the Accords?”

“I have a lot to talk to him about, but—we’ll get there. Okay… Movie? Hot cocoa? Then bed?”

“We could skip the first two and do the third, but Spider-Punk and Tony are waiting,” James made a face.

“We could have said no.”

“I like the kid. Besides, it’ll be nice to just relax, you’ve been wound all day.”

“You seem better,” Steve said, tilting his head.

“I feel a little better,” she admitted. “Or maybe just—I have some perspective. I know you want to know, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

“Fair enough.” The moment she acknowledged she hadn’t told them, they both seemed to relax. They really were trying so hard. Well, except for a few notable slips but she wasn’t complaining.

“Ready?”

“Yep.”

They headed for the elevator and she glanced at the present. There was no obvious label. Then she glanced at the picture of Mary on the shelf and sighed. Fingers tangled with hers lightly and she glanced at Steve and then clasped his hand. With one last look at Mary, she followed them into the elevator.

Hot cocoa. A movie. Her guys.

She managed to hold Steve’s hand all the way to the penthouse and her heart cooperated.

Every step counted.

Peter was helping Tony with the blanket fort when they arrived and she laughed. It was ridiculous and perfect. Tony also had the fire on and the lights on his Christmas tree twinkled.

“Call our genre, Red.”

She had to do it. If she set it up, she knew he’d go for it. Giving Steve’s hand a squeeze she let him go to head to the kitchen. The milk, chocolate bars, and spices were all on the counter.

“Christmas movie,” she said. Then waited.

“_Die Hard_ it is!” Tony called and she grinned as she got the milk heating.

She _knew_ it.

“That’s not a Christmas movie,” Peter argued.

“It happens at Christmas, ergo it’s a Christmas movie. It’s also a classic.”

“It’s an action movie set at Christmastime,” the protest continued from the teen section.

“Ergo, Christmas movie. Steve? Bucky? Back me up here?”

Steve just chuckled. “It is set at Christmas.”

“I haven’t seen it yet,” James commented.

“Action. Guns. Hostages. Bad guys. Lots of booms.” Tony described.

“That’s just a day at work, how is that entertainment?” It was the deadpan delivery, it set Peter of laughing and even Tony chuckled.

“You have a point, but—we’re still watching it.”

The hot cocoa was good. The blanket fort was delightful. The movie was perfect.

James wanted to correct McClane’s tactics on any number of occasions, but he seemed to be enjoying it. It was nice to not be alone in that particular camp.

So did everyone else.

But the best part? She stretched out with her feet in Steve’s lap for almost half the movie.

Progress.

It was a nice cap on their day.

~~~

A little before dawn, she opened her eyes to the darkened room. Steve and James were still sleeping based on the steadiness of their breathing. For a moment, she just lay there listening. If someone had ever told her she would merely enjoy the quiet sounds made by someone sleeping next to her, she’d have snorted. That kind of attachment had been so beyond her wheelhouse. Even sleeping next to Clint on and off over the years had been about self-protection and companionship.

She hadn’t reveled in his steady breathing. Was she actually reveling? Turning the concept over, she didn’t think the word quite fit, but she did enjoy it. All she had to do was stretch out a hand. They were still sleeping on top of the covers blanketing her. Steve had long since kicked his blanket off. As her eyes grew more accustomed to the shadows, she studied him.

He slept with one arm behind his head and the other extended down her side. It wasn’t hard to imagine he’d rested it on her at some point during the night. The familiar weight might have nudged her out of a bad dream. His face was relaxed, the faint pinch that had been present between his eyes since she woke the Sunday before seemed to have eased.

Her fingers itched to stroke his beard, but if she did, she’d wake him up. His hair had gotten longer, too. It was definitely below his collar. She’d offer to cut it today if he wanted to trim it. Since she was awake before him, she just indulged in studying him.

A faint shift on the bed had her rolling her head to the right. James was on his side, facing her. His left arm was curled under the pillow he had tucked between his head and the metal biceps. Firm lips parted, he released the faintest of snores. The corners of her mouth began to curve as she caught the hint of it. He had to be really asleep. Normally, he didn’t snore. Too conscious of his breathing, the sound would wake him before he let it out and he would shift.

Awareness of the knowledge shimmied through her. Had she noticed that in the last couple of months or was that from before? She couldn’t quite pin it down. Scruff shadowed his jaw, the stubble would be rough against her fingers, but she also knew just how smooth his face could be with a shave.

Indulging herself in that little fantasy, she replayed the last couple of times she’d actually gotten to shave him. She wanted to do that again, take care of him. They could never change their pasts. They had difficult lives and it reflected in how they could handle a difficult present, but she couldn’t imagine she’d been allowed to shave him before or he’d been able to wash her hair. Little acts that let them take care of the other.

Maybe they’d stolen moments, but…

No, they’d all been stolen. Hijacked. Secreted. Stealthed.

All until they’d gotten away and then they’d had what? A year? Eighteen months? Much longer than they’d had now and if her feelings _now_ were any indications, they’d probably been the happiest months of her life no matter the fact they’d had to be so careful.

Grief struck hard, like a fist to her chest and closed her eyes and swallowed it down. With care, she extracted herself and after using the bathroom and washing her face, she slid into the closet and changed into her leotard and dance shorts. Slipping the dog tags into her palm so they wouldn’t rattle, she left them on the dresser. Her shoes hung on a hook next to the dresser; she lifted them off and ghosted out of the room.

A week she’d been back and she hadn’t been near her studio.

Jotting down a note, she left it by the coffee maker then padded toward the elevator. It opened silently without a chime. Glancing up at the camera, she signed _thank you_. The camera flashed—Morse code—you’re welcome.

As the doors slid closed, she said, “Good morning, Friday.”

“Good morning, Natasha. I hope you slept well.”

“I think I did—” She considered as the elevator went to her floor. “I don’t recall any bad dreams.”

Even with the grief nesting in her chest, she still had some—weird sense of peace. Or maybe it was the distance. She might call Stephen later; ask him if that was a typical response to his soul mirror thing.

Understanding a tool was the first step toward mastering it.

The elevator opened to her floor and she padded on bare feet into her studio then closed the door. The room was cold, not freezing, but not particularly warm. The wood floor was chilly when she sat down. After she laced up her shoes, she took the time to begin her stretches.

Muscles in her back and thighs protested. Stretching in captivity had been a focus between bouts—vital to maintaining her flexibility and mission readiness. The last few days? She’d—really failed to keep up on it. Pushing up on her hands, she arched her back and her muscles began to tremble as she forced herself into a handstand, then stretched her legs into a split.

_Water rushing in, the chill of it slamming into her as she fought to keep her head up…_

Completing the stretch, she turned, walking a circle with her hands.

_The air evacuated the room…_

Rolling out of it, she went from forward and backward splits to side by side.

_The men poured onto the bridge, she fired. Every single bullet had to count. There was no time to preserve lives. _

On her feet, she lifted a leg, hugging her thigh to her chest as she bent the lower leg altering her center of gravity and increasing stress on the muscles.

_The feel of the hilt in her hand as she twisted and sliced. The clash of blades and the vibrations it sent up her arms. _

With every stretch, she pushed herself past the moment her muscles screamed.

_The feel of a head in her hands as she twisted it sharply until the cervical spine snapped. The strike of her foot against a chest, the thrust of her leg giving it force as it knocked the opponent back._

Standing, she stretched her arms up, hands hooked together and rose to her toes as she elongated everything.

_Locking her feet on either side of a man’s downed head, gripping with her ankles before she twisted. His neck snapped as she held Tony’s gaze. “This is exactly who I am.”_

Her eyes snapped open as she dropped her hands and bowed her head. Not moving. It was like being in that soul mirror; only here she could feel it all still rough and raw. It tested the distance she’d created.

“Natasha?” Friday said quietly. “Your pulse and respiration are exceeding standard norms for a stretch. Do you require assistance?”

“Undecided,” she admitted. The grief that punched her earlier now coupled with the images assaulting her. “I need to get out of my own head.”

“Would you like to select a playlist?”

“That predictable am I?”

“Only because you have your shoes on.”

Laughter rippled up through the murky feelings swamping her. Chuckling, she glanced at the camera. “You have a point.”

“I thought as much.” Silence draped them, then Friday said, “Do you want me to increase the protocols on Mrs. Barton? I can release sniffers to make sure no one is searching for her, the address, her image or voice print.”

“Yes, please.”

“Consider it done. Is there anything else I can do?”

“Were you able to confirm we have everything here I need for tonight?” If she had to make a supply run, she’d end up having to leave the storm-coated area.

“I was, I have compiled the list, we will have to borrow from a couple of floors, but I have everything in stock.”

Good.

“Thank you, Friday.”

Rolling her head from side to side, she met her gaze in the mirror.

_ That girl. That—young girl who’d never had a real hug or a true friend or even had any idea kindness and love existed—she never surrendered. She was why Natasha had a life at all. The girl who became the monster._

“I need a workout. “ They’d watched _Die Hard _the night before and she’d left the KGB and begun to reclaim herself in ’84. Reinventing herself again… “Hit the 80s, shall we?”

“Of course, Natasha.”

Whitesnake’s _Here We Go Again_ blasted out of the speakers and she stared at that girl in the mirror. The girl became marble to survive. The girl who’d endured.

They could do so much more than that now.

Following the beat, she moved evading the shadows chasing her as she immersed herself in the dance.

It was her choice, dammit.

She was making it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short chapter today, might be a little shorter the next couple of days, but there are things I want to cover that don't always fit into the bigger chapters.


	23. Overwatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes he's too close. Clint sees better at a distance.

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**Overwatch**

**Clint**

_The Day Before_

It had been a challenging day, but Natasha had seemed more like herself during the wargames than she had since they’d brought her home. Then Mr. Wizard showed up. He had not-good news. They’d all known it would be painful and dangerous, but Clint had been watching her through the whole thing. The endorphins from the wargames were wearing off, but not her determination.

He was pretty sure if the doc had shown up and told her he needed to cut off one of her fingers to help her get those memories restored, she’d have asked which one. Clint got it, no matter how long it had been, for Nat—it was like it happened in the last few weeks. She wouldn’t stop until she had the answers. Clint worried what it would do to her. At the same time, he couldn’t discourage her as much as he wanted her to pace herself and take it easy.

For fifteen minutes, they waited in the hall while she and Strange talked. None of them said a word, but they were all focused on that room and on whatever he had in that bag.

“Am I alone in wondering what a wizard would have that he wouldn’t want anyone else to see?” Tony asked.

“No,” Clint answered in unison with Steve and Bucky.

“Just checking.” Arms folded, Tony tapped the fingers of one hand against his biceps. “I could ask Friday.”

“But you’re not going to,” Steve said, his tone flat.

“Nope,” Tony stated. “I’m not.”

Fifteen minutes had never seemed so long, but when they were invited back in nothing seemed readily apparent as having happened or changed. Though Nat—Nat was calmer, almost more at ease if bemused. The doctor discussed the options, left the diagnosis and Nat said she’d be in touch.

After?

She took Steve and Bucky and left the Compound. Lunch, she told them, and then they’d be back.

“Ever feel like you’re getting left behind?” Tony mused as he stared at the empty conference room.

Clint snorted. “She’s living in your Tower, she’s still wearing that bracelet _after_ telling us all to go to Hell, she’s not leaving you behind Tony.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

He was almost the door when Tony said, “I’m worried about her.”

“We all are,” Clint told him. “That’s why we all have her back. But it has to be her call, no matter how much we want to help.”

When Tony didn’t say anything more, Clint studied him. He really needed to not butt into anyone else’s business. At the same time…

He nudged the door shut. “You okay?”

“Me?” Tony smirked. “I’m peachy. She’s back where she belongs, holidays are around the corner, I get to spoil my friends. Couldn’t be better.”

“Uh huh. The woman you’re in love with is going through the wringer and struggling back from what happened to her and you don’t think there’s a damn thing you can do.” Not to mention Tony had to have his own PTSD from the event on top of the PTSD from so many previous events.

The dry look neither confirmed nor denied, but they’d had a similar conversation previously. It wasn’t a question.

“I can watch,” Tony said drily.

“Sometimes—overwatch is all we can do. We have to be her eyes in the sky. She’s too close to it.” Clint sighed. “Arguably, so are we. I want my best friend to be fine and to be my best friend. I’m a selfish guy that way. But as long as we’re a part of the process, we can watch her back.”

“So we just let her…”

“We don’t _let_ her do anything. She’s going to do what she’s going to do. We’re a part of the solution or we’re just part of the problem. You are a big part of the solution, Tony. Don’t back out on her now.”

Folding his arms, Tony leaned back against the wall. He stared at the table.

“Strange was your idea. You wanted to find him; you do realize we’re getting this far because you did that? You pushed for it. You insisted he was the guy who had the right skills. You were right. You also helped her break down some of those walls with BARF in the first place. Did it go perfectly? No. But you still helped her get there.” As much as he hated to admit, he added, “While I still think it was a shitty ambush when you helped her trigger that night—you also showed her she could do it. It’s not pretty and, if Strange is right, the only way we do this is going to be extraordinarily painful for her. She needs us to be there.”

The man nodded his head slowly. “Us?”

“Yeah, us. Why? You got somewhere better to be?”

Tony chuckled. “Point taken. She’s off to lunch though. Is your wife fixing lunch today?”

“Probably,” Clint said. “Hungry?”

“Starving. Your kid owes me some engineering time.”

“He’s probably going to talk you into video games,” Clint told him.

“That could work, too.”

~~~

The afternoon was spent comparing lists with Laura on what they’d gotten for the kids interspersed with moderating various debates as Lila and Coop vied for Uncle Tony’s attention. Lila had been contrary since discovering Nat had left for a while.

Nate toddled all around the common area. Wanda drifted out at one point to play with him and then vanished back toward her room with a StarkPad and shopping list of her own. Weather reports indicated the storm was shifting, so the likelihood of last-minute shopping was declining. Sam and Sharon made a pass through the room on their way out.

They were going to head to the airport now in the hopes of catching earlier flights. Rhodey had left shortly after wargames. It was almost late afternoon before Nat and the guys returned and considering how many bags the guys had—Clint would say it was a safe bet they’d done some shopping.

Laura made a beeline toward Nat where she was talking to Vision and Wanda in the kitchen. He’d tried to explain to her to dial it back and to not get her expectations up where Nat was concerned. The night before had been a damn challenge and she’d held up beautifully until she hadn’t.

“I’ve had some thoughts about the safe house,” Bucky told him as they both kept an eye on the kitchen. Another almost dropped project of the last few weeks.

“Yeah?”

“There’s one I’ve been researching, I wanted to get up there to look at it, seems almost too perfect.”

That snagged Clint’s attention. “Too perfect is usually not a good sign.”

“Agreed, it was also not in my search results beforehand.”

Natasha and Laura strolled past them on their way toward the residential hall. But she waved them both off with a flick of her fingers. As soon as they rounded the corner, he faced Bucky.

“It wasn’t in your search results?”

Bucky shook his head. “I haven’t really been looking since she was taken but when I went to go through some of it earlier, there was a new place on the list.”

He wasn’t going to ask him if he were positive. It was unlikely he’d bring it up if it weren’t true. “Show me?”

After pulling his phone out, Bucky scrolled to a page and then brought it up. When he handed it over, Clint stared at the result. It was…

“That’s fucking perfect.”

“Now you see my concern.”

Clint checked the location, good distance. No near neighbors. Excellent security. Definitely large enough with room to expand. No clear sightlines—at least that he could make out. Reinforced steel glass in the windows. A bunker below ground with specs that suggested it could handle a missile strike. A gym, and…

“There has to be something wrong with it.”

“The price isn’t pleasant,” Bucky said and Clint rolled to that and winced. No. That was not pleasant.

“It’s out of your budget…”

“Yes and no,” Bucky told him. “I think that’s to weed out anyone not serious. They’ve bare-boned the amenities list but the images show far more than they are detailing.”

“You want to see this place.”

“Oh, I want to see it,” Bucky said slowly.

Then it hit him… With a glance toward Steve and Tony who’d settled in with Mario Kart and the kids, he turned back to Bucky and kept his voice low, “You think Friday put it on the list.”

He nodded. “She’s—very fond of Natalia. She knew we were looking.”

Another nod.

“Have you asked her?”

“Not yet. I want to see it first.”

Huh. There were at least four other strong possibilities they hadn’t gotten to yet, including one Clint liked that was an old Victorian in the Queen Anne style. The house had loads of character.

Clint checked the windows then glanced at him. “Soon as it clears?”

“Maybe sooner…I don’t want it to disappear. If it is as good as it looks and the price is negotiable?” Then he had his safe house.

Handing his phone back, Clint nodded. “Any day but Christmas and I’m in.”

Bucky nodded. “That gives us four days, but I think we can do it. Just need the weather to clear.”

“Even if you lock it in, you may not close in time.”

“The date’s not important.” The decisive _Natalia is_ hung unspoken off that sentence.

“Hey,” he said. “How are you doing?”

“I am better now that she is back and she seems to be rallying. Today was a good day.”

On that, they could agree. When it was down to Nat and Bucky, Clint fully expected them to take longer. “You think anyone else realizes you two decided to call it because you wanted to do something else?”

A faint smile curved his lips. “Probably not. What they don’t know…”

“Yeah,” Clint chuckled. “It’s bad enough you two took everyone else out, but then just decided to make it a draw? I can hear the complaints now.”

“Exactly, which is why we’re not telling them.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He’d have paid money to see Nat as relaxed and in her element as she’d been earlier. Coddling her, he got it. They needed to take care of her and she needed to let them on some levels. But challenging her? Letting her stretch her skills and prove her mettle? That always helped. It was why they limited her downtime at SHIELD. Why Coulson and he sanctioned her side jobs.

Nat needed to stay active. Even with the kids she trained—Peter was becoming more and more of a fixture and Nat was damn good for him and Wanda both—she needed more to sink her teeth into. Her mission focus was zeroed in on finding her daughter.

“Uncle Bucky?” Lila abandoned the games to head over to them.

Bucky eyed her. That was another part of the former Winter Soldier’s personality that amused him. Bucky was good with the kids. Not a little good, not tolerant, not bemused and pulled along—good. He got discipline and he got kindness and he used both liberally.

“Yes, ma’am?” Bucky said, meeting Lila’s gaze.

She held up a brush. “Would you braid my hair for me?”

“Lila,” Clint started but Bucky waved him off.

“I can…did you want one French braid or two?”

Biting back a smile, Clint enjoyed Lila’s speculative look as she tilted her head. She had made her decision as soon as Bucky asked, but she gave it a considering air. Sometimes, she was a little too much like Nat. “Two please.”

After pocketing his phone, Bucky motioned her over to the stools by the breakfast bar looking into the kitchen. “You want to sit there or on the back of the sofa so you can watch the game?”

Lila’s eyes lit up. “The back of the sofa!”

Clint coughed as Lila darted and she paused, pivoted then said, “Please.” Then his little darling had the audacity to wink at him.

“Behave, Bug.”

She laughed and skipped over to the sofa.

“I’m going to go check on Laura and Nat, thanks for doing that.” He trusted his wife, but he also trusted that his wife had a soft heart. She’d been tremendously worried about Nat and it had physically pained her the night before that Nat had been so non-committal and distant.

“No problem,” Bucky said as he trailed after Lila. She already had a brush and a comb ready with some hair ties. Yep, she came prepared for that question. Way too much like Nat.

~~~

When Friday let him into Natasha’s suite, the room fairly crackled with tension. More, Natasha had put herself beyond reach on the other side of the bar from Laura. Nat didn’t keep herself remote from Laura, any more than she did the kids.

Warning bells went off. More when the look Laura shot him held elements of fear. What was she afraid of? Him? Nat? “Friday, can we get a little privacy please?

“Natasha?” The AI checked with her. Bucky wasn’t wrong about Friday’s affection for Nat. The fact a computer program could develop affection was a little creepy. Okay, a lot creepy, They made movies about this stuff. None of them ended well. Though he could totally see Nat as a model for a Cylon. Maybe that was what Friday was doing.

“It’s fine, Friday.” Natasha set the empty mug in the sink, and then turned to lean against the counter. Clint glanced from Laura to her and then back. Yeah. This was not fine. Natasha was expressionless.

“What’s going on?” Eyes narrowed, Clint settled his attention on Laura. The tautness in her shoulders combined with her white knuckles along with the ticking time bomb of quiet was not subtle.

“We were just talking,” Laura said. While it wasn’t a lie, it held distinct untruths in it.

Clint flicked a look to her and Natasha met his gaze steadily. “Nat?”

“We were talking,” Natasha supported at least that much of the story. The flat tone spoke volumes. Nat masked her reactions, even her eyes weren’t betraying her, but he knew her too well.

“Uh huh.” Arms folded, he stared. “About?”

“Clint, Nat and I can talk…”

“Of course you can, but since I can cut the tension in this room with a knife and I told you she didn’t want to talk about last week, I’m left to try and guess at the topics here…” When neither of them said anything, Clint sighed. Not a good sign. “Nat?”

She kept her secrets close and rarely shared unless someone truly needed to know. This was Laura and this was Nat. He _needed_ to know.

“I went on a radio show,” Laura said abruptly. “To defend Natasha. I’ve been working with a co-op of writers, teachers, thinkers—a lot of us—we believe that all of you deserve a better deal than you’ve received. Natasha especially. So I went on a radio show using a codename and defended her, specifically against all the bullshit Ross threw at her.”

Of all the things she could have said—that wasn’t even on his radar.

Clint turned the sentences over, repeating them to himself. She went on a radio show.

His wife went on a radio show.

“Nat called me on it,” Laura continued.

Laura risked herself on a radio show? To—how many? What the hell?

“We were just debating the fact that while she’s allowed to take bullets for us—for you. I’m supposed to sit quietly back at the farm and keep my head down.”

“You…” He couldn’t quite form the sentence to express the depth of his concern.

“It’s been fine, it aired a week ago.” Laura folded her arms, while her raised chin said defiance the rest of her was braced. No matter how ready to defend herself she looked, the fear hovered at the edges of her eyes. She had to know this was a bad idea, but she’d done it anyway.

Why the _fuck_ would she do that? They had contingencies within contingencies; everything designed to keep her and the kids _safe._

“What exactly did you say on a…” He looked at Natasha for clarification. She had to have known or she wouldn’t have been calling Laura on it. Nat would have fact-checked, gathered the intelligence. She would have done due diligence and probably knew the address for the asshat Laura talked to.

An address Clint might need.

“A satellite radio station with over two million listeners.”

Nauseated, he sucked in a long slow breath and then packed it away. Right now, he needed details. Specifics. He needed _facts._

How many heard? What were the chances for containment? If containment wasn’t possible, could they redirect? Deflect? Frame someone else? Did he need to move them? Scrub them from all databases and relocate them?

He’d wanted to relocate them anyway. No sooner did that thought form then he realized it was exactly what he’d been debating for weeks.

He wanted his family.

And Laura…

“I…I said that I wanted to know who protected the heroes. You all protect us, so who protects you…” She was still defending it.

“You knew?” Clint shifted his gaze to Natasha.

“I found out a couple of days ago after Sharon mentioned I should review the news clips—something about whatever was aired while I was gone.”

“Gone…Natasha…”

“No,” Natasha said flatly, meeting Laura’s gaze.

“You weren’t gone—you were—”

“Laur, Nat doesn’t want to talk about it. She’s asked and she’s told you twice, you mean well but…” He hadn’t meant to snap, but dammit right now they had enough problems and needed to focus on Laura. On this situation. On keeping _her_ safe.

“But what? Neither of you handle things in anything remotely resembling normal or healthy. Fine, keep your secrets.” She rose. “Maybe that’s all you planned to do anyway.”

Putting a hand out, Clint stopped her from leaving. “Laura…”

“You’re going to take her side,” Laura pinned him with a look. “That’s what it boils down to—you always choose her.”

Not this again. “This isn’t about choosing.” And he _wasn’t_ fighting with her about Nat. This wasn’t _about_ Nat. But when she got angry and defensive, she lobbed everything at him.

He wasn’t too proud to admit, he was just as fucking guilty of that.

Natasha sighed. “Laura…”

“Oh, now you want to talk, because you need to protect him.” She paced away from both of them arms folded. Then bowed her head. “This is not what I came in here to do.”

“Okay—we’re all going to take a breath.” Clint met Natasha’s gaze. He needed _her_ here and _now_, not on anything else. He needed her focused. If anyone could dilate the possibilities and extract the key points, Nat would see them. She braced her hands on the counter and nodded.

“And then what?” Laura turned, she glanced from him to Natasha and then back again. “I get the lecture on how I should be the good little wife and stay home and out of this? I should let the government and monsters like Ross go after you? Tear you down and paint a target on your back that forces you to run so that no one else gets hurt? Is that what this is?”

Fuck his life. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Clint shook his head. “You know what…before we do this. I need to know _what_ you did. Exactly. Then we need to discuss this like…”

Natasha kept her hands planted. “Then I’ll leave you both to it.”

“No,” they said in one voice. Surprise flickered through him at the emphatic nature of Laura’s request, but she wasn’t wrong. They needed Nat to stay. Hell, this whole damn thing was already in danger of spiraling into a bad place.

“Stay, Nat,” Laura continued. “This _is_ about you.”

“I’d like you to stay so the two of you can settle this.” Clint held her gaze. _Stay._ Her eyes said she did _not_ want to do this. Clint didn’t want the fight either, not the fight this could very easily turn into. Nat’s presence would mitigate it. Besides… “You two are friends.”

“We’re friends with conditions,” Laura said, a biting note in her voice. “The conditions requiring I ask no questions of a professional or personal nature. That I let you dictate what I know…”

Turning, Natasha yanked open the freezer and pulled out the vodka. Yeah, Clint couldn’t really blame her for that one.

“Friday—please play back Ladyhawke’s radio call.”

She set down glasses then glanced at them. Laura shook her head, but Clint just gave her a look. He needed all his faculties about him to get through this.

As Friday played back the whole program, Natasha poured herself a glass, then got out the wine and set it on the counter.

_“Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight wherever you are in the world, it’s Progressive Talk’s Hero Hour and my name is Win Michaels, and I’m your host! We want to hear about your heroes. We’ve got Tony Stark back in the news, but when isn’t he? But that was some exciting stuff this week in New York as Iron Man defused those bombs with an assist from the Black Widow herself and didn’t she look fine while she was doing it. How awesome is that to have her and all the Avengers back? Do you have a favorite one? What do you want to talk about… and we’re going live on the air with our first caller… Ladyhawke—love your name Ladyhawke from Iowa. What did you want to talk about today?”_

Ladyhawke? He stared at his wife and she glanced down. It kind of hit him right in the chest with that name.

_“Hi Win, great show, I listen every day and I wanted to talk about the things we don’t see the media or anyone else talking about. I want to talk about how much these heroes give up to save lives, save the world, and save people like you and me—but who saves them when people like Secretary Ross try to turn them in his personal soldiers or the world plays tug of war over who they belong to and whose rules they should follow? When do we, as the people, protect our heroes from our politicians and greed?”_

_“Are we so sure that the heroes need protection? The very existence of the Accords says that people like Black Widow, like Iron Man—they’re dangerous. They need to be kept in check.”_

_“A person with a knife can be dangerous. A person with a gun can be, too,” Laura pointed out._

_“And we have laws that govern those actions.”_

_“Those same laws already apply in this case. Instead of applying law, we’re applying a standard, isolating them from the general populace and marking them as a suspect class that requires the same level of monitoring and authorization as a criminal on parole.”_

Halfway through the program, Clint’s head began to pound. Yeah, vodka required to finish it. Laura was—brilliantly articulate in her argument. Too good. Too compelling. Natasha tossed back the vodka then poured a second glass for Clint. Laura finally motioned toward the wine glasses and Natasha lifted that down and Laura filled the glass nearly to the top. Clint could appreciate that need.

_“You know, I hear what you’re saying Ladyhawke. I get admiring them. But if they commit crimes, who is supposed to police them? Do you roll up on Iron Man and serve a warrant? The last time I checked Tony Stark has an army of lawyers, the law isn’t going to go very far.”_

_“So the problem isn’t that the law doesn’t apply but they can afford to defend themselves?” The challenge in Laura’s voice echoed over the line. “You can obviously make that argument. But let’s say for the sake of this argument, a warrant is issued because of suspect behavior on the part of Tony Stark—his attorneys get it thrown out or they can’t find him to serve it. What do you think happens if Ross goes on a campaign against him like he has against the Black Widow? Let’s take it a step further, what happens when the government takes it a step further and starts targeting first responders? Persecution is persecution no matter how much you want to dress it up and call it preventative measures.”_

Fuck, she was brilliant. Laura had always been so sharp. She had degrees and skills and a gift for putting together an answer that demanded people _think_ about what the hell they were doing. He took a swallow of the vodka and let it burn through the knots in his gut.

_“I think the question we need to ask ourselves is what happens when we chase our heroes off? What happens when the people who can save us aren’t allowed to? Who is at fault the next time the sky opens? Or an army of murderbots gets loose? Who helps us then?”_

_“You know, Ladyhawke, I’m going to tell you that last thought troubles me more than I care to admit. I think we need to do something, because people need to feel safe.”_

_“The Avengers are people, too. Do we sacrifice their safety for ours? Aren’t they already doing that?”_

_“If they’re going to be our heroes…”_

_“They’re not trying to be anyone’s heroes. They’re just…they’re doing something. In a world where so many of us wait for someone to do something. They do something. We should applaud that and support it.”_

_“Well we are doing something—they removed Ross…”_

_“After Black Widow arranged for the lofty Committee overseeing everything to actually _see_ something.”_

_“You know, I can’t argue that point. So now it’s up to you listeners—what do you think? Do you agree with Ladyhawke? We want to hear from you.”_

The recording ended.

Brilliant. He drained the vodka then slid the glass back to Nat.

And so fucking reckless. She’d all but called out Ross and everyone like him.

Natasha tossed back a second glass of vodka and then refilled his. Laura swallowed a mouthful of wine, her confidence seemed to be faltering.

“How did you call that station?” Clint asked.

“The old VOIP lines Nat set up a few years back. They do that Rolodex thing with IPs and servers.”

“Old school?” Clint double-checked with Nat and she nodded. Over the years, they’d relied on a lot of old school techniques, including using old KGB lines and standard landlines to communicate in Morse code if nothing else. It was one of the tricks she’d taught him along the way.

That would make tracing Laura almost impossible. Not totally impossible, but damn close.

“Well, that’s something.” He set the glass down and rubbed the back of his neck. “Laura…”

“I’m not going to apologize for it.” The defensiveness in her voice grated. More because she thought they were just mad at her for doing it rather than what her doing it could lead to. “You two aren’t the only ones who get to defend this family.”

He raked a hand through his hair, and then studied his wife.

“Do you two still think I need to stay for this part?” Nat asked.

“Yes,” they both said, then Clint laughed a little and so did Laura. Poor Nat, she wanted nothing to do with this conversation and they both needed her there to even have it. How could his wife be so damn brilliant and so damn stupid in the same breath?

Almost as soon as the thought took purchase, he shoved it aside. She wasn’t stupid. Reckless, impulsive and maybe a little desperate? Yes. But she didn’t seem to get it. To truly understand what she’d done.

At the same time, what she’d done was amazing.

“I appreciate everything you said, Laura,” Clint began, his tone evening. He really had to say this right. “I appreciate the fact you want to protect Nat. I’ve always been grateful for you.”

“You’re amazing,” Clint told her, because she was. She took his breath away, but she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t _risk_ herself. “You’re never doing that again.”

Laura’s expression tightened. “Contrary to what you might be considering at the moment,” she said slowly, motioning from him to Natasha then back again. “I’m not actually under your command or on the team or in any way someone who needs to do that.”

“You’re still the mother of my kids,” Clint bit out the words. “And a relatively intelligent woman. That was a gamble, a risk—you’ve done it. I can’t walk it back, we might be able to bury it, but you _can’t_ do that again.”

“Or what?” Laura raised her eyebrows glancing from Clint to Natasha then back. “Or what? I sit at home when something like this happens—again—and I wait, worry, and try to dissect the news to figure out if one or both of you is never coming back? Is that what?”

Was she even hearing him? He’d told her about the danger. “Laura, you’re not listening to me…”

“Oh I’m listening, but you’re not hearing me. For more than twenty years—well over half my life, we’ve done it your way.”

Clint just stared at her.

“…I had no idea the hell you were going through over Loki. I had no idea that you’d lost the trust and security at SHIELD or that they’d taken Nat away. And every time I thought—okay this is it, you’re done. You’re going to come home and stay home, you don’t. You’re back in it again and you disappeared—_for months_. Both of you. The world was hunting you. The government is painting horror stories about you—especially you,” she said to Natasha. “Stories your kids see. Stories they hear. Stories that terrify them…”

Every word landed like a blow. She wasn’t wrong. He’d kept a lot of that from her to keep her safe—and to hide his own failures, but…

“You mean like hearing their mother on the phone, crying about how worried and scared she is for me while talking to their father?” Natasha swirled the vodka in the glass. “Just checking if these are the things we’re worried about scaring them with.”

“Nat…” Clint glared at her. _Not helping._

She shrugged—seriously?— but didn’t take her gaze off Laura.

“Lila,” Laura said, it wasn’t a question.

A single nod.

“I wish she hadn’t heard that, but—maybe that just proves my point.”

_Excuse me? _Head pounding, he swung to face Laura. “Lila eavesdropping proves your point?”

“We _worry_ about you. We get scared. We feel helpless. We want to do something to help you so we can get you back safely. You want to make me feel bad for standing up for you…” Laura ran a hand over her face. “You know what. We’re all adults. You choose to live your lives the way you do and I can choose to support it, vocally.”

His blood boiled. No, she clearly didn’t get it. How much clearer could he make it without actually terrifying her?

“Yep,” Natasha said slowly. Her voice soft and dangerously deceptive “You are an adult. You can handle anything. Go on the radio, keep talking, defend me. Lob verbal grenades at madmen who have power and the will to use it. What are they going to do?”

“Nat.” No, he recognized it. Doing it this way was going to hurt… but she ignored him.

“The more voices you have on your side,” Laura said. “It matters.”

“Yes,” Natasha said simply. “It does. So keep talking, be a face and a name—Ladyhawke in Iowa. So there’s no immediate leap to Laura Barton not for anyone who doesn’t know you. But make enough noise, you can start to annoy the right people or maybe you find that one Internet troll who likes to field conspiracy theories—I can point you at whole sections of the dark web where they get off on that. They link Ladyhawke to this mother in Iowa, wow, no real story there but wait—her last name is Barton. Okay not a leap to get there. But now…you post it on one little obscure place. No big deal. Nobody sees that. Until they do…”

“Tasha, c’mon,” Clint said quietly. He knew where she was going with this. Laura didn’t need to go there or see this. It was just going to scare the hell out of her. It’s why he _hadn’t _done it this way, even if… fuck maybe he should have when things started going sideways so she would really get it.

“So now they know who you are and they know you might be linked to Clint, funny, hahaha. They don’t really care, but they aren’t the problem. The problem is men like Ross have assets who work for them and they are always looking for an angle. A simple web search turns up the theory, no big deal except Laura Barton is defending the Black Widow? Coincidence? Maybe. Put a few man-hours in on it.”

Laura stared at her, her eyes wide. He hated Nat a little. She wasn’t wrong. Every single thing she said was true. It was the nightmare.

“Okay, so now we have a mother and three kids in a farmhouse in Iowa, might be linked to an Avenger, maybe all of them. But what do you do with it? You keep an eye on them, because the smart thing to do is to know when to leverage what you know. Do you need the Avengers off your back? Do you want to co-opt Clint to have him take out your enemies? Or maybe you want to do both—you use you to force him to kill us.”

His nightmare. “Jesus, Nat…”

“Now this is where the fun begins…because how do they leverage you? They take you—if we’re lucky they take you alive. If we’re not, they kill you because the kids are easier to control and they leave your body there as a message. Let’s say the take you, now they have you and they torture you to prove they can do it and to make Clint understand exactly what will happen if he doesn’t comply. That’s the best-case scenario, because that person has a vested interest in keeping you alive so we’ll do what they want and it gives us time to find you.”

This had to stop. As much as they needed Laura to listen, this—no. “She gets it, Nat,” Clint said quietly.

“Oh, no. She doesn’t.” She filled her glass one more time, then looked at Laura. “The worst-case scenario is you’re taken by an old enemy or maybe even one we don’t know we have. You’re taken and you’re tortured repeatedly on video so that your pain is used to torment someone else. It won’t matter what you do or how hard you fight, you’re going to be beaten over and over again. They might get creative and vary their methods of torture, but never mistake it for anything other than torture. That pain that you suffer, it’s magnified because you know the people you care about have to witness it. They have to endure it and you can’t keep it from them. No matter the outcome, whether you’re saved or not—you’re never the same after something like that. No matter how many times it happens.”

There were tears on Laura’s cheeks and Natasha saluted her with the vodka, and then tossed it back before she set the empty glass on the counter.

“And that’s what happened last week. Except much worse.”

Anger and grief tangled inside of him at the last, because Natasha wasn’t wrong. They’d seen that torture and he was never going to forget it. Wrapping a hand around Laura’s nape, he pulled her to him as the tears began to soak her cheeks. Natasha shouldn’t have had to rip herself open to do this. Then again, she wouldn’t have had to go this far if he’d done it in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” Laura said quietly, turning her cheek against Clint’s shoulder and staring at Natasha. “I wanted to help you. I still want to help you. I care what happens.”

“I know,” Natasha told her. “I really do.”

“We do,” Clint reiterated, pulling back and bracing his hands on her shoulders. Laura looked up at him. “Believe me, Laur. We _know_. Now, we need _you_ to know why I’ve done all this, why I don’t want you out there, why we’ll do everything we can to keep you and the kids safe.”

“Then what can I do?”

She was listening. Relief swarmed through him. “You keep being you. Just… no more radio shows?”

“What about my online groups?”

“Yeah,” Natasha said. “I don’t need to do this part of the conversation. Make yourselves comfortable…”

“Where are you going?” The last thing she needed was to fuck off to some dark corner and brood. She’d bled enough today, but he couldn’t just walk away from Laura, not right now.

“I’m going over to Steve’s room for a bit. Then maybe back to the Tower. I need some time.” Steve’s room. That was good. He could let Steve know exactly where she was and she was close.

He nodded slowly before he glanced at Laura.

“Nat?” Laura asked. “Are we okay?”

“We’re family,” Natasha said. “Pretty sure by definition we’re not okay.”

As the door closed behind her, he blew out a breath, then wrapped his arm around Laura and held her.

“Clint…”

“Just a sec,” he said. “I need to hold you and know that you’re all right.”

“I am,” she insisted, but she didn’t pull away. This close, he could breathe in the scent of her shampoo, the hints of perfume, and if he wasn’t wrong—talc from changing Nate’s diapers. “Clint…”

Easing back, he rested his hands on her arms then nodded to the sofa. “C’mon, sit. There are a couple of things I need to say to you.”

“You’re angry.”

“I am…” he admitted. “This is—a surprise, Laura. Not a good one. But—let’s sit.”

She frowned but let him guide or over. Turning sideways on the sofa, he faced her and then held out his hand. At her dubious look, he raised his brows. With a huff, she settled her hand in his.

“Thank you.”

“For holding your hand?”

“For defending Nat.”

Surprise flickered across her face.

“You have gone above and beyond any reasonable expectation when it comes to Natasha,” he told her.

“She’s _my_ friend, too.”

“I know she is, but she wasn’t always and you welcomed her into our family and you put up with her when she was prickly as hell and didn’t understand kindness wasn’t a trap and she didn’t have to guard herself around you twenty-four seven. That took—enormous patience. Maybe I’ve never said it before, but thank you. Thank you for wanting to defend her and even me when I was an ass.”

A faint smile curved Laura’s lips. “We both said a lot of things.”

“We did and most of what you said was right. I—made choices that you’ve had to live with and I’m still making those choices.” Leaving her hurt. It still hurt. ‘When you said you needed the divorce, I got it. I even maybe agreed with it a little.” More than… “But Laur, divorce or not, marriage or not—I _love_ you and I’m always going to want to protect you and the kids.”

“I know that…”

“You think you do,” he said, then held up a hand. “Wait, please. Listen? What Nat said…”

“That was a horrible image. I know you’ve always worried about something happening.”

“I’ve worried about _that_ happening. That exact scenario,” he said, then squeezed her hand gently and leaned forward. “Please, please believe me when I say I’ve had _nightmares_ about that happening to you or the kids. There have been days when all I could think is what a selfish prick I am, because I want you guys so much and at the same time, I shouldn’t be within a million miles of you.”

“But that’s just a what if—”

“Laur, when Nat said that was what happened to her last week? She wasn’t kidding. This guy took her—he had a small army that he went after her with and this was after he kidnapped her and Pepper from a party right under all our noses. He took _Nat_. He had to drug her, gas her and eventually hit her in the head to take her down, but he did it. Then he—I don’t want to tell you, but we have the tapes. He sent them. We saw every ugly thing.”

The horror in Laura’s eyes deepened.

Clint swallowed. “This guy did it—not because she’s Natasha Romanoff or Natalia Romanova or the Black Widow. He had no beef with _her_. He did it because he hated Tony and wanted to punish _Tony_.”

“Oh God.”

“Everything she described, it happened to her and you know Nat, she was not a quiet prisoner and she hates herself a little bit right now because she _couldn’t_ get away. She doesn’t see the survivor or the fact she got through or that she never stopped fighting. This guy—this Mandarin? He targeted Pepper first, he ended up taking Nat because she was there, but he brought the reinforcements to keep her. If it had been Pepper there instead of Nat?”

“She’d have died,” Laura said softly and Clint nodded. The fist clenching in his chest would never quite let go. “Clint, I get it. You guys want to protect me, because you know I can’t fight something like _that._”

Oh thank God, she got it.

“But the thing is…”

Or not.

“…this is the only way I can do something for you the way _you_ do it for the world. Maybe—maybe it’s not glamorous or earth shattering, but I can do this, Clint.” She met his gaze. “Not only can I do it, I _need_ to do this. I need to do something.”

“It’s dangerous,” he told her.

“You think I don’t know that? Clint—you risk your life and _you_ do it with people shooting at you. _I’m_ doing it from the safety of a chair in front of a computer screen with a headset and microphone. You put all those precautions in place. I know how to run the software that masks the IP and rotate through the burner phones. We have the electronic scrambler to prevent voice printing.”

“You know you’re beautiful and brilliant, right?”

“Flattery is sweet, but are you _hearing_ me?”

“I hear you.” But he didn’t like it.

“Sucks to be in the other seat, doesn’t it?” The quiet question jerked his head up and he met her gaze. Her eyes were still damp and the shadows lurking there promised him she’d heard everything he said about Nat and about the threat. “I have been terrified for you—for decades and I’ve been scared for Nat since she became a part of our family. Now I’m getting to know all these wonderful people you work with and yeah, they have problems—but I’m going to be scared for Steve or Bucky or Tony getting hurt or what about Peter? He’s a kid.”

Yeah. He got it. “You’re right…”

Surprise filtered through the silence.

“It sucks to be in the other seat.” He smiled at her and she slid over toward him. When she wrapped her arms around him, he pulled right into his lap and hugged her. “I can’t stand the thought of anything ever happening to you.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I’m not putting on a mask and rushing out to face criminals in the street.”

“No, you’re attacking powerful politicians and governments, which just might be worse.” Fisting her hair, he had to tell her, “Do you have any idea of just how amazing you are?”

She laughed, and then pulled away. “Amazing or stubborn?”

“These are not mutually exclusive, Mrs. Barton.”

“That’s good. You have the market cornered on stubborn.”

Staring at her, he said, “Please—dial it back until we get a bit of a grip on this. Figure out all the angles? I…”

“I’ll try,” she told him. “But we have momentum and if we can turn this thing to get them off Nat, we’re going to do it. Sure they’ve refrained from pressing the charges, but they haven’t cleared her. Public opinion—it can turn the tide and it can keep her safe from the people she’s giving up everything to protect.”

“She’d never forgive herself if something happened to you.” He’d never forgive himself either.

“And I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do something and something happened to _her_. Or to you. To any of you.” She touched his face. “When we came to see you here, right after you came back…I told you then someone had to do something.”

She had.

“And it has to be you?”

“Does it have to be you, Clint?”

He was never going to win this argument. “I’m never not going to fight to keep you safe.”

“Right back atcha, Hawkeye.”

He chuckled. “Ladyhawke?”

“You liked that part.”

“Yeah well—when the sexiest woman I know names herself after me, gotta say—that feels pretty good.”

She laughed then gave him a poke. “Way to make it about you.”

“I’m proud of you, Laura.” He read the surprise in her eyes and kicked himself. She should never have to be shocked that he’d say that. “I know I don’t like it. I might never like it. But I’m proud of you—you’re amazing.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, then kissed him gently. It was a light kiss, but he stopped himself from pressing for more. “I really do what to help.”

“I know you do.”

“Nat’s really mad at me,” she said softly.

He sighed. “Nat loves you. I know she doesn’t say it—hell she never says it to me except to call me an idiot.” Except last week. She’d said it then. The thing with The Mandarin had left her so rattled and so raw. “But she loves you, Laura. I think you’re the first woman she’s ever been able to call a friend. The way she was raised and the things that crazy bitch who raised her did? She sees a whole other way with you.”

“And you’re her best friend.”

“Yeah, but she still likes you better.”

Laura chuckled. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“True, she likes Lila more than either of us.”

When his wife laughed for real, he reveled in it. He had no idea how to put the genie back in the bottle. It probably wasn’t possible. “I love you, too.”

Her laughter faded slowly and she nodded. “I know and I’m so glad we’re here.”

So was he. “Me, too.”

When she glanced at the clock, he loosened his grip reluctantly. “And we should probably go feed our children and the rest of the Avengers.”

“You know you don’t always have to cook when you’re here.”

“I like to,” she reminded him as she stood slowly then held out her hand for him to take. “I like looking after all of you. Someone should.”

Man was there truth in that. “Just don’t spoil them.”

“Ha,” she said, then paused. “Do you think Nat will forgive me?”

“I think she already has,” he told her. Knowing Nat… “She’s probably already trying to figure out the best way to secure you.”

“Kind of like you?”

“But with more knives. And a lot more prejudice.”

Laura laughed as they left Natasha’s rooms and he glanced at Steve’s door as they passed it. If she wasn’t out in the common area, he’d send Steve after her.

Sometimes, the best thing he could do was to keep his eyes open. To see the big picture. It wasn’t always easy with the people he loved. He was too close. Laura wasn’t going to stop the same way Nat wasn’t going to stop. So either he was a part of the solution or he’d up being the problem.

He was tired of being of the problem. Laura glanced up at him and shook her head, her smile not quite covering the shaky aftermath of that confrontation. But she was trying. She wanted to be a part of the solution.

So did he.


	24. Security

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha recruits Tony for a project

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**Security**

**Natasha**

The elevator chimed open to the smell of sizzling bacon and, if her nose wasn’t wrong, baking cinnamon rolls. Steve and James were both in the kitchen, both with damp hair from recent showers and Tony sat at the table with a mug of coffee in hand. The only one not present was…

“Steve, I hid it in the closet, I hope that’s—oh, hi Natasha.” There he was.

While she didn’t limp out of the elevator, James’ smile faded and Steve frowned, as Peter gaped and Tony lowered his coffee cup.

“Yes, I know,” she told them as she moved carefully. She’d wrecked her feet, but she’d cleared her head. The leotard was soaked through and her hair plastered to her head. The hours had whistled by, too many. She was aware. “I’ll be fine. Just let me go take a shower.”

Peter stared at her feet. “You’re bleeding.”

“It happens,” she told him, then patted his shoulder. “Morning, Pete. If you’re hiding something, don’t announce it. Just do it.”

He blushed then cast her a worried look.

“Red…”

“Ten minutes,” she said, giving Tony a quick smile as she moved carefully toward her bedroom. She was doing her best to keep blood _off_ the carpet. “I’ll shower and be more human.”

“Uh huh.” He did not believe her. That was fine.

Ten minutes.

She made it to the bathroom before Steve was there.

“Win rock-paper-scissors?”

“No,” he said drily. “I just told Bucky I was going. Do you need help?”

In the bathroom, she walked on her heels over to the shower and turned it on. Then glanced at him. The fierce look on Steve’s face screamed disapproval.

“I got caught up,” she told him carefully. “I needed to get out of my head.”

“We figured,” Steve said as he crossed over and pulled down a towel and spread it on the floor. “Stand on that, we can wash the blood out.”

Stripping off the leotard was actually gross. It clung and her muscles protested. She’d pushed herself beyond her endurance and she’d kept going. The fact neither Steve nor James had shown up to watch had surprised her—after she realized how long she’d been going.

And she’d only noticed because Friday finally cut off the playlist and the silence jarred her out of the zone.

“Angel…” Disapproval hung off both syllables. “We were giving you space and I am trying not to hover, but…” He’d fixed his gaze on her feet. The steam began to drift out of the shower and she reached over to touch his face. At the contact, he shifted forward and met her gaze. “Is it that bad you had to…?”

“Yes. No.” She shook her head. “I have a lot on my mind.” The Mandarin. Stephen Strange. Wakanda. Laura. Clint. Mary. Steve. James. Tony. Peter. “I needed to step outside myself and sometimes…when I let go this does it. It lets me empty out all the noise and then I can really hear myself again.”

“You seemed _better_ yesterday.”

“And I’ll be better today. It’s—it’s not something I can predict.” She couldn’t even explain it to herself. “Are you staying while I shower?”

The worried look in his eyes seemed a permanent fixture and she didn’t shy from it. As much as she hated worrying him, she had a process and the dance was part of it.

“I can if you want.” It was a careful answer.

“Will you feel better?”

He made a face and then laughed a little. “You know what, Romanoff?”

“I actually do on this one. You guys are coddling me as carefully as you can, intimately aware of how much I can take and how much I won’t. You’re walking on broken glass because of how I stormed away at the party. I understand—and I appreciate it. I really do. So stay…then you can doctor my feet and feed me. Then we’ll see what’s next on our list today. But tonight? You and I have a date.”

His expression softened as she winked and then slipped into the shower. The hot water on her abused muscles was perfect. Head tilted back, she rinsed the sweat off.

“You going to give me any hints about the date?” Steve asked after a long silence during which she washed her hair and conditioned it and then reached for the soap. The blood on the tile had washed down the drain.

“It’s with me,” she volunteered. “I thought about giving you a day to yourself for pampering, but I didn’t think you’d enjoy that as much.”

He chuckled. “Only if you were with me.”

“Well, depending on what the game plan is out there, I’ll be with you.”

“Then I’m good,” Steve said with a sigh. “You know I’m—you don’t have to do anything yet, Angel. The last couple of days have been a lot. Tony and Peter are probably entrenched down here or we’re going to be up in the penthouse.” Or the gym, but he didn’t bring that up. Chances were, her feet would earn her dirty looks from everyone if she wanted to spar.

Tony though—Tony needed the sparring practice, so she needed to sit him down. After rinsing off, she shut off the water and moved to step out. He snapped out a towel for her.

“I am doing better,” she told him. “I know it may not feel like that…”

“It doesn’t matter what it feels like to me. It matters what it feels like to you.” He held up the towel and she stepped to him and then raised an eyebrow. With a narrow-eyed look, he wrapped the towel around her. “You’re pushing it.”

“I’m going to it until it stops. I want to be able to touch you,” she told him flatly. “I want you to be able to touch me. I won’t be controlled by these responses. I won’t be controlled by anyone.”

That was what it boiled down to and she knew without a doubt that Steve was on her side. It horrified him on every level what had happened to her and James. “Don’t make me be the one who hurts you, okay?” Steve asked and it was so close to what James had said that she sighed.

“I don’t want to make you do anything,” she promised. “I really don’t, but Steve…to get past this you guys have to touch me when I ask. You have to let me try.” Or she could push it in other ways. There was one she could think of, but she didn’t think James would go for it.

She met his stare and recognized the internal battle. It went against the grain for him to be the “bully” and yet, she was asking him to make her uncomfortable, to edge it, so she could get past this. “I don’t like it.” Then he held up his hands and set them gently on her shoulders. The warmth and the weight were familiar. “There are easier ways to do this.”

“The blanket,” she said, vibrantly aware of the contact. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. We need to definitely get some cuddle time in today.” She liked the cuddling.

“Done,” he promised. Then glanced at her feet. “Can we dry you off and go take care of them now?”

The almost plaintive note made her laugh. “Fine.” He released her so fast if she hadn’t understood it, it could have felt like rejection. But she got it. With care and efficiency, she toweled off. Her toes weren’t bleeding anymore, but they were definitively abused. She dressed in thick yoga pants paired with a shirt that said _Despite the look on my face, you’re still talking_ worked and then she headed out to the kitchen. “First aid out there cause I am more than ready for coffee.”

And food.

She was starving.

“Yes ma’am,” Steve muttered as he followed her.

In the kitchen, Tony was pouring a mug of coffee for her and one for himself. James piled food onto a plate and Peter paused mid-bite to study her.

“See? Shower and I’m all better.”

“Yeah, your feet look one hundred percent healed,” Tony said drily as he set the mug in front of her. Then glanced at her feet. “Really, that’s just not pretty.”

“Aww, you’re going to hurt my feelings.” At the remark, Tony smirked and then James brought her food over.

Steve moved over to sit in the chair next to her while Tony retook his, which just happened to be on her other side. James set the food down in front of her and she tilted her head to look at him. His eyes held a hint of rebuke, but then he gave her a smile.

“Set a timer next time?” It was a request, while she couldn’t guarantee it. She nodded. The distance was still there, that blunting of the edges after the soul mirror. More so now that she’d danced.

“I’ll try,” she said, then eased her feet into Steve’s lap as he flipped open the first aid kit. Not even a shudder.

“Why do you do that?” Peter asked, his expression concerned.

“Dance until my feet are bruised?” She sipped the coffee and ignored the sting of antiseptic before Steve applied the ointment and Band-Aids.

“And bleeding?” The disbelief in Peter’s eyes made her smile. One by one, Steve wrapped her toes. And she picked up a piece of bacon.

“Sometimes, I just dance and I lose track of time.”

“Yeah,” Peter said slowly then shook his head. “This might be a none of my business thing, but that’s more than losing track of time.”

“Pete,” Tony began then paused when Bucky handed him a plate. “Thank you.”

“It’s fine, Tony. He can ask.” She didn’t need them to run interference on this. “It’s how I get out of my head, Peter. I get a little too noisy up here, can’t hear myself think. Dancing—takes concentration and discipline. It was part of my training.” Meeting Steve’s gaze, she added, “Sometimes I get carried away. It works for me. Besides—I heal. Tomorrow those will be barely noticeable.”

“But…” Peter pulled apart a cinnamon roll. “That sounds like a really unhealthy coping technique.”

Tony snorted and Natasha smacked his arm. “Ow. Non-combatant,” he protested, but there was a faint smile.

Steve had finished but he had his hand on her ankle and hadn’t moved her feet. So he was letting her rest them there. “Coping techniques vary by the person. What do you do when you need to get out of your head?”

“Stevie beats speed bags to death.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Tony agreed.

“Thanks,” Steve said eyeing James. “Yours aren’t much better.”

“Didn’t say they were,” James retorted. “It’s just what you do. I’ve been known to do that. Stevie runs, too. Sometimes I watch Natalia dance.”

“Lucky bastard,” Tony muttered and Natasha shifted her stare to Tony. “What? I’d rather watch you dance it’s a lot healthier than what I used to do. Or should I say what we both used to do?”

Considering the number of times they’d drunk their body weight in vodka and scotch, she tilted her head from side to side. “Can’t really argue with that one.” She bit into the bacon and then glanced at Peter.

“I—build things sometimes. Though mostly I just throw the suit on now and go out.”

“Intense physical activity,” James stated. “Get moving long enough and fast enough, the mind focuses while the body burns.”

“So, I dance. It helps.” She took another bite of bacon. “Now enough about me, what are we doing today? And at some point, Tony, I need to pick your brain.”

He paused mid-sip and frowned. “I didn’t do it.”

There was a beat of silence then Peter snickered. Steve chuckled a beat later and James just shook his head as he set a plate in front of Steve. “That sounded like guilt to me.”

“Hey,” Tony protested and Natasha chuckled.

Despite the laughter, Peter kept sending her little frowns. She’d have to deal with that, but not right now. Not while she could sit there with Steve’s hand wrapped around her ankle and eat without the buzz assaulting her system. Without needing to move away. Right now, the noise had quieted and she’d take it.

“Aunt May is still at the hospital,” Peter said. “I was going to ask about taking them food, but she told me Tony had massive trucks of food delivered and there’s a staff there preparing it for everyone.”

That didn’t surprise Nat in the slightest.

“Technically,” Tony said. “The Maria Stark Foundation delivered all of it, we delivered the generators and did get a good look at their systems. Oh, and you two helped.” He could sound so careless, but he wasn’t fooling anyone at the table. But she got why he did it.

“Glad you noticed,” Steve returned, playing along. He drew a circle against her ankle with this thumb and she caught his raised eyebrows. Was it bothering her yet? She shook her head. Not yet.

“I like to share the credit. At least fifteen percent.”

His rates had gone up.

“How much do I get then?” Peter asked.

“Well you’re still getting there, we’ll give you five of his fifteen.”

James snorted and Natasha chuckled before she asked, “And on the next note, is May still at the hospital for the foreseeable future?”

“Yeah,” Peter admitted. “She said she talked to our building manager. We still have power there, so I could go back but…”

“Why?” Tony frowned. “You can stay with us, Pete. We like having you here.”

“But she had to spend most Thanksgiving at the hospital and I’m used to it. I just don’t like that she may be there for Christmas.”

“You can go spend Christmas with her,” Natasha offered. “I know it might not be the same but we can get you there. For that matter—if she is free to go, we can get both of you home.” She’d fly them herself. The quinjet could take a lot of bad weather and the street was wide enough, she could get the jet’s rear ramp right up to the stoop of their building.

He ducked his head. “I think she won’t leave as long as they’re snowed in. She knows I’m here at the Tower and hanging out with the Avengers. She told me not to get in the way too much.” The tips of his ears went red. “But I promised her I was having a good time. I definitely want her to come home, but if she can’t…I like hanging out with all of you as long as you don’t mind.”

“Of course we don’t mind,” James told him. “You just let us know what you need.”

Peter grinned. “Can I use a lab today? I had an idea…”

Tony eyed him. “Before I say yes, Red told me we’re not allowed to add lasers to things or blow them up.”

“When did I say you couldn’t blow up things?”

“You didn’t?” Tony grinned, then clapped his hands together. “You want to blow some stuff up?”

“Pretty sure I don’t need a lab to do that,” James said and Steve groaned.

“Can we go back to where Nat said you couldn’t blow things up?”

“Too late,” Tony said with a laugh. “She already said she didn’t.”

“No, I asked you when did I say it.” They’d all eaten while they talked. The hum in the back of her mind was getting louder and the itch under her skin so she eased her feet out of Steve’s lap and shifted to stand. If she sat too long she was going to get stiff anyway. She could feel the pull in every muscle.

“Semantics,” Tony said after a beat. “Anyway, yes, Peter my lab is your lab—within reason. Like my third and fourth labs are your labs.”

Natasha smiled as she poured herself another cup of coffee. James ghosted behind her, she felt more than saw him before she turned. He met her gaze and she read the question there. She nodded to him. “I’m all right,” she murmured, pitching her voice low as Tony ribbed Peter. “Just a lot on my mind, now that I can think about it.”

James glanced at the windows, then at her. “You need to get out of here for a while?”

Even with the snow coming sideways, she could almost relish the thought of getting on the snowmobile. It was seriously tempting. “We probably should pretend to be responsible.” She nodded toward Peter and James grinned.

They took their time, even after they were done eating. The conversation circled lazily. They really had nowhere to be. Outside of sparring—which none of them would do with her—they had movies, books, music, and napping. She also had a date to prep for, but that would be later in the afternoon. The early prep was already done.

Eventually, Steve and James headed for the gym to spar and train. She said she might come along later and added just to watch when they both gave her a sharp look. They both needed to burn off some steam. Though she could use the time to head to her floor and wrap presents, she tagged along while Tony got Peter set up in his lab.

As it turned out, Peter had an idea for Coop that he’d been putting together and while she was curious, neither he nor Tony would give her more details.

“Okay, you know this is just going to make me more curious, right?”

“But it’s a present and a surprise.”

“For Coop.”

“For everyone,” Peter said. “Well mostly for Coop, but I’m not sure I can make it work.”

“You can totally make it work,” Tony stated. “You’ve got the specs—” which they wouldn’t let her see, “More, you have me and Friday. So get to work and I’ll go let Red dissect my brain.”

She was not alone in rolling her eyes.

“Friday, why do I do so much for so little respect?”

“You’re a glutton for punishment, Boss. You’ve told me so yourself.”

Peter smashed his lips together and held his breath long enough she worried he was going asphyxiate himself. Then he let out a snicker as she and Tony turned toward the elevator.

“Yeah,” Tony said smoothing down his hair in the back. “That must be it. Don’t blow anything up, Pete.”

“No promises,” Peter called out as the doors closed and Tony stared at them with a frown.

“Should we leave him?”

“Do you really think he’s going to blow something up?” She’d managed to not laugh aloud, but it had been a close thing.

“At his age?” Tony shrugged. “I did. Friday?”

“On it, Boss. Karen and I will keep an eye on things.”

“Great…” Finally, Tony turned to study her. “Where we going, Red?”

“Penthouse is fine. Like I said, I need to pick your brain.” She leaned against the wall, arms folded. “Or wherever, if you have to work.”

“Yeah, okay. Private lab.” He paused in the kitchen of the penthouse to start a pot of coffee. Natasha walked to the great windows overlooking the deck and stared out at the storm. It was really blowing out there. She could make out the outline of the other buildings, but no real details.

“We’re going to get called out in this.” It had been a minor miracle they hadn’t been called out already.

“Maybe,” Tony answered, the sound of a cabinet closing accompanying the words. “We’ll deal with it when and if we have to.”

“True.”

“And by deal with it…”

Turning, she looked over her shoulder. “I can handle it.”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t, Red. Not sure the rest of us can handle it yet.”

She sighed and looked out the windows again as the scent of coffee filled the room. With a glance to her right, she stared up at his tree. The scent of pine lingered though it had diminished some in the interim since Happy struggled to get it out of the elevator and hauled it over here.

The ornaments were an eclectic mix—nearly as eclectic has what hung on their tree on Steve’s floor. Tracing her fingers over her ornament, she studied the ones around it. Steve. Peter. Tony. The only one missing who was in the Tower was James.

He probably didn’t care but she might see if Friday could help her make one, she could add it to their tree if no other. Though, an ornament didn’t really seem…

“Here,” Tony said, holding out the coffee mug. “You’re being curiously non-verbal. You okay?”

“Well, we know I’m not,” she answered him as she cradled the offered mug. The rich brew teased her nose and she took a sip. “You wanted to go to your lab?”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Do you need to pick my brain or to talk?”

“You didn’t want to talk until you could hold me,” she reminded him, having very much not forgotten that sentence.

Not looking away, he nodded once. “And not just with a blanket.”

“Thank you for that, by the way. I didn’t count on having quite that bad a reaction.”

“Glad I could help,” he said, lifting his mug. “How many times have you talked me off that ledge?”

“It’s what we do.”

“Yes, it is, Red. It’s what we do. So—brain-picking it is.” He let his gaze linger a moment longer, then snapped all that emotion closed. The tension in the air ratcheted down and he motioned toward the stairs. “Care to come into my parlor?”

“Said the Iron Man to the Spider?”

He chuckled. “Something like that.”

Could she walk with him at her back? The debate waged in her and she gave it an effort. She trusted Tony. That really wasn’t a question. But she trusted James and Steve, too. It still took a little conscious effort on her part. He took it out of her hands at the stairs, though, and jogged up them first leaving her to follow.

Not exhaling a sigh of relief, she scowled at her own weakness. Yes, looking in that mirror had helped but some instincts were too hard-wired.

They passed through his bedroom to the closet and then inside, Tony was opening the sealed door when he glanced back. “I want my AC/DC shirt back, by the way.”

She just smiled.

“Uh huh. Oh and nice job with the Captain America shirt. You think I won’t wear it?”

“No, I know you will, at the first opportunity to deliver maximum impact.”

He snorted as the door opened and then they descended the short steps into the lab and the door closed behind them. For a moment, she paused on the stairs. This lab was not as large as his others, but it was also built like a fall-out shelter.

Tony paused. “You need it open?”

“Trying to decide,” Natasha admitted, forcing herself to take a slow drink of coffee before she padded down the metal steps. The cold was a kind of relief. Despite a little sick unease, her heart didn’t start racing and she wasn’t sweating. Calling it a win, she met Tony’s gaze and smiled. “I think I’m good.”

“Friday—if Red’s pulse skyrockets, open that door.”

“Got it, Boss.”

That worked.

Sliding onto his chair, Tony motioned to the other one then glanced at the worktable. There were a dozen different things there—including a copy of the modified bites he’d made for her. A prototype she’d bet. Settling, she set her coffee down and then picked up one of the bracelets.

“I really liked these.”

“I’m making you another pair,” he admitted, then held up a finger. “Shh, don’t tell the guys. I promise this set won’t come with panties.”

Natasha chuckled. “I think that bothered them more than me.”

“So I didn’t cross a line with you?”

“Didn’t say that,” she admitted. “It was a little much. But I got it.” She did. He cared. Maybe too damn much and if she hadn’t already been aware of those feelings especially after the bombing, she would have known that night.

“Well, like I said, you ever want that apology…”

“I know.” Turning the bracelet over in her hands, she ran her fingers along the delicate chain work.

_The blade sliced, nicking her skin but breaking the chain. They sputtered out and then the armor withdrew even as the bracelet fell away…_

“Red.” Tony had moved, turning her chair away from the table to face his. “Breathing?”

With a soft huff, she nodded, and then set the bracelet down. “Might want to work on those chains.”

“They’re going to be titanium—vibranium if I can talk T’Challa into it.” He eased back a little. “I’m sorry they broke.”

“I’d have lost no matter what. He stacked that deck. If I’d cut off his hands right from the beginning…well, we’d be having a whole different conversation.” Blowing out another breath, she shook her head. The stricken look in his eyes had her covering his hand with hers. “It happened. I’m back. I made it. It’s going to take a while for it to not sting. I’ve had worse missions, believe it or not… I’ll be all right.”

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean we have to like it.” He flipped his hand and gripped hers.

“No, we don’t. But dwelling on it isn’t a good plan either.”

“I can accept that.”

“I heard about all you did,” she told him. “That you didn’t drink, kept working, came up with the plan…”

“You’d have done the same.”

She chuckled. “Maybe. I couldn’t have pulled off the armor, though.”

“Ha,” Tony said squeezing her hand. “Red, what did you need to pick my brain about?”

“Two things, one you don’t want to talk about.”

“SPARK.”

She nodded.

“And the other?” His tone was light if guarded. But his pulse was steady. So was hers. Tony hadn’t let go of her right hand and he had a finger over her wrist.

“Long story, kind of frustrating, but I’ll bare bone it for you. Friday’s already doing some work…” So she filled him in on Laura’s activities, mitigating some of her own reaction.

Leaning back in the chair, he let exhaled a long breath when she summed it up with, “So, she wants to continue to be active with this group or groups, we’re not talking dozens, it’s more like thousands. They have podcasts and other things planned…”

“You want to shield her as much as possible.” It wasn’t a question.

Natasha nodded. “I’d rather talk her out of it.”

“You’re not going to do that, Red. But I like this idea… it’s what I’ve been trying to do with the PR firms but they’ve offered me nothing but bullshit at least until all of this started going down last week.” With a squeeze of her hand, he released it and rose. “Give me some screen time, Baby Girl.”

The holo screens snapped open and he began rearranging and clearing plans for… one zipped away before she could fully focus but it looked like the bracelet she already wore. Always building something. She sipped the coffee while he cleared the workspace then opened a clean window.

“Okay, Baby Girl, we need some sleuthing. What groups is Laura playing in?”

“I began tracking yesterday while Mrs. Barton and Natasha discussed the radio show. I’d done some preliminaries after you first heard the program.” Social media sites opened—including a Reddit—the first thing on the screen was #IronWidow then another thread with #CapWidow and #WidowAvengers leading them. “These four would appear to be the most problematic,” Friday continued. One of the groups, a closed and private Facebook group had more than eighteen thousand members.

Oh, she was going to be sick.

Another had just eight hundred.

“This site, however, I found the most interesting.”

She wasn’t alone in tilting her head as an IP address only defined site, likely located on the dark web, opened with various avatars logged in and a running chat room.

“Based on my observation, all chat files are deleted within twenty-four hours, it’s a rolling delete every hour, pruning as it goes. Only fifty people have access to this site and it requires masked IP addresses and proxy server routing to log in.”

Laura’s group was on a dark web chat server? Seriously?

“Laura’s rocking with a hacker collective?” Even Tony sounded impressed.

“I think so, Boss. Now while I can’t confirm Mrs. Barton has direct access because of the rolling deletes, this avatar…” A hawk appeared on the screen. “…is for a member who has not been active in the last 24 hours and is the same avatar Mrs. Barton uses for the Ladyhawke handle for Reddit, but different from her Laura Barton picture on Facebook.”

“So chances are it’s her, but we’d have to ask to confirm.”

“I would guess, Boss. Of the active users on this site, at least a dozen are in all the same groups as Mrs. Barton as far as I have been able to trace and track. They’re good.” Friday almost sounded smug. “I’m better.”

Natasha chuckled even as the tension squeezed the back of her neck. “I have a headache.”

Tony snapped his attention to her.

“Not—that kind of headache.” She motioned to the screen. “Sorry.”

His harsh exhale was both relieved and frustrated. “We can do this—all right, first things first, Baby Girl, let’s put together an offer package for Laura—what’s her maiden name?”

“Bishop,” Natasha told him.

“Laura Bishop,” he said as he tapped some screens. “Welcome to the Maria Stark Foundation as a research fellow.” He added a few more lines and Natasha smiled slowly. “Let’s see—fifty thousand sound like a good starting grant to research the effect of dynamic communication in the digital era?”

He shot a grin at her.

“Feeling cocky, aren’t you?” But she wasn’t complaining.

“A little bit. You brought me a problem I can fix for you. Okay, Friday, our research fellow is going to need a dedicated server and we need to have some babies.” The last he said to Natasha and she tilted her head.

“Excuse me?”

“You and me, we’re going to make B.A.B.I.E.S. Bishop Automated Bodyguard Integrated Engagement Security. C’mon, Red, you know you wanna make babies with me.”

Part of her wanted to smack him upside the head, but only part. The rest of her was far too entertained. “You really like to live dangerously.”

“It’s one of my more attractive qualities,” he said with a wink. “Friday give us some music and get Red a screen.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Still, the idea of making babies, even artificial ones, sent an alarm through her system. Shaking that off, she downed some coffee and then pushed her chair forward.

He paused for a beat. “Red? That wasn’t too much was it?”

She glanced at him. Joking about babies? Even playfully? “No, Tony, it wasn’t too much just… caught me off guard.”

“Got it. If I cross that line…?”

“I’ll shove you back. Besides,” she admitted. “It was funny.

With a grin, he motioned to the screens. “I’ll start the primary framework, you begin the automated sequences we need it to run. Once we get it up and in, Laura can do what she wants and our babies will keep her safe.”

Yeah. He was having way too much fun with that.

“How long is it going to take you to share that with Steve and James?”

“Oh, I’m getting the announcements printed later,” Tony said with a smirk. “Red, because Red and Gold are the best colors.”

Rolling her eyes, she started typing. “You’re back to playing with fire.”

“I am… and it feels good.” The cockiness in his tone eased. “I missed you, Red.”

She met his gaze for a beat, and then smiled. “Need to work on your aim.”

His whole expression relaxed. “Yeah, much better…” The music cranked, steel guitar and drums a perfect accompaniment and she tapped her bruised feet in time with the beat.

“Friday,” Natasha said after a while. “Can you let Steve and James know I’m going to be working on this for a while?”

“I’ll take care of it, gertsoginya.”

Her coffee was empty and Tony paused, removing the pencil from his teeth to glance at her.

“It means duchess,” Natasha told him. Friday hadn’t corrected herself yet.

Leaning back in his chair, he studied her then glanced at his screen. “We going with duchess then, Baby Girl?”

“I think it fits.”

“In Russian?” Natasha checked.

“Undecided.”

“Try it in Italian,” Tony suggested as he pushed away from the table and headed toward his coffeemaker. It took him past the fridges with and storage containers with the samples, including the inert remains of the formless.

“I am undecided if Duchessa fits as well, though the emphasis on the _k_ sound is interesting.”

Biting her lip, Natasha offered up her empty coffee cup when Tony came to claim it. The smirk on his face was almost adorable. “I still think queen is more appropriate. The Red Queen, but then you’d have to say off with their heads.”

“Tony?”

“Hmm?”

“Read the shirt.”

He snorted. Yes, despite the look on her face, he was still talking. “You don’t scare me, Red.”

“You say that now.”

“I do,” he countered. He poured coffee and handed hers over on his way back to his seat.

“Friday, can we turn down the music?”

It lowered some and she glanced at Tony.

“Red…”

“You don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t like telling you no,” Tony admitted.

“Talk to me about the risks… you said you were working on changes. Talk to me about those.”

He grimaced.

“You let Pepper use it.”

“Extenuating circumstances and she didn’t have a concussion or a fragile brain.”

“My brain isn’t fragile. It might be damaged, but I have it on good authority I’m still hardheaded and stubborn.”

“You are that,” he muttered.

“So talk to me about it. I’ve sent my file to Wakanda, but I want all my options on the table.”

He set his coffee down and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I built in some fail-safes, escape hatches for when a memory is too intense, there are some default settings to back it off if a certain threshold is hit.”

Those were good things.

“Yeah, don’t look so pleased. The problem is—_your_ thresholds are going to be significantly different from anyone else’s and once you’re triggered, just backing SPARK off isn’t going to bring you out.”

“Is that you or Stephen talking?”

“Yeah, he’s had ten minutes of looking at it, I’ve had years,” Tony said with a scowl. “I think I’ll trust my judgment on this one. I want to help you, but the factors of excruciating pain and possible stroke are huge deterrents in this particular window.”

“It’s going to hurt, Tony. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. It’s going to hurt. I can live with the pain, pain can be compartmentalized…”

“FYI, I fucking hate that statement. Pain tells you when something is _wrong_, ignoring it and putting it in some mental bit bucket is the same as putting in earplugs when the fire alarm is going off.”

“And yet, sometimes you have to block out the noise because somewhere in that burning building is someone you need to save.” She met him stare for stare. “We all cope in our own ways. Compartmentalizing pain is one of mine. You don’t want to hurt me. You don’t want something you _built_ to hurt me. I get that.”

“Then why the hell do you keep asking?”

“Because I want Mary back,” Natasha told him, leaning forward. “I _have_ to know what happened. What did I do? When we were Brooklyn, we found the place I stayed. The woman running it is the granddaughter of the woman I rented my apartment from. The girl? Marian? She remembered me from stories her grandmother told and she had a picture of me and Mary. In two days, I got two pictures of Mary. Every moment that passes, it’s another moment I don’t have with her. If SPARK can give me access, then I’ll take the pain. I’ll… I’ll ride it out. Because on the other side, I’ll have her back. Maybe it will only be memories, but I’ll have clues to what I did and where I went.”

“Logan already told you you were looking for Dad.”

“Great, did I ever actually talk to him? Did I want to rob him? Get information from him? Did I know about his ties to SHIELD? What did I want him for?” She took a breath, and then forced it out slowly. Her pulse had increased and irritation scraped under her skin.

“Red, I know how important this is to you.”

“Do you?” She leaned back in the chair, putting her crossed wrists against her forehead as she stared at the ceiling. “I have all these pieces, Tony. James knows some of it, but I don’t even have that many of the ones he has. He doesn’t know what I have locked away. The only people still alive from _then_ who _might_ know are me and Logan. Logan only knows where I was going…”

“Duchessa, if Boss can figure out how to pinpoint target SPARK to stimulate the hippocampus in smaller bursts, then theoretically, we could minimize the damage to allow you to heal in between sessions.”

“Friday…” Tony said. “My voiceprint only and restrict those files.”

“So you _are_ still working on it.” She hadn’t really doubted it.

“Pretty much every chance I get,” Tony admitted. “I want to be able to hand you the device and say let’s find her. I want to do that for you, but I won’t risk you. Strange seems to think that it’s a calculated risk either way. You haven’t been having episodes since you’ve been back? Not really?”

No. She shook her head slightly. “Stephen believes that I’ve been making progress on my own, but the extensive injuries redirected the serum’s concentration.”

“Which means they aren’t going to keep spontaneously rupturing on their own.”

Natasha nodded once.

He scrubbed his hands over his face before he stared at his screen. “I’m asking the following question in the interest of this discussion _only…_”

“No,” Natasha told him slowly. “I haven’t had sex with either of them, largely because I can barely stand to be touched and they are keeping their distance.”

He winced and gave her a sideways look. “So they talked to you about boosting your serum?”

“Yeah well, fucking my memories back into existence seems a great way to heal brain damage and a horrible reason to have sex.”

“You’re not wrong,” he murmured, tapping his fingers against the table, then eyeing his screen. “I’m not saying no forever and I know you want to know now… You reached out to T’Challa?”

Lifting her coffee, she took a sip before setting it down and shifting her fingers back to the keyboard. “Yesterday. I sent him my file and Stephen’s recommendations and diagnosis.”

“The sister is going to look at it?” Tony kept his gaze on the screen in front of him.

“Yes. Hopefully, we’ll hear something soon.”

“You’re going to go if they tell you they can do it.” It wasn’t a question. “No matter what it costs?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t say anything else for nearly an hour and by then she had most of the base automated functions she thought the sentry would require, including attaching worms to foreign systems to allow it to monitor for suspicious behavior and potential threats. Threat assessment matrixes she could borrow from Friday, including supporters for the Avengers in the Avengers demographics.

“There’s one way we could test SPARK,” Tony offered quietly. “But I’ve never tried it that way and I don’t know if it would even work. It’s a really bad idea.”

She turned to look at him.

“We induce a coma. Slow down your autonomic functions, allow brain activity to be reduced, then concentrate a targeted blast to a specific memory that you encode _before_ you go into the coma. See if we can stimulate it as a dream. You don’t feel the pain, you still get the memory and you’re already in a position to be treated for any micro vessel bursts as the damaged tissue is replaced.”

“That sounds like cryo without being frozen.”

“Yes and no. In cryo, brain activity can be simulated while the body itself is in complete hibernation. I’ve been thinking about why Bucky’s memories surged back so quickly within a few short weeks of coming out of cryo. It wasn’t just the treatments; it was the time his serum didn’t have to work on anything else. Arguably his serum is different from yours, but—healing-wise—if you combine it with Steve’s… and we might be able to do that with a simple blood transfusion if you’re not up for more…entertaining options.”

“That’s a lot of _ifs_.”

He nodded. “And I don’t know if it would work. Cryo might be a better solution, but I don’t have the facilities for that kind of safe immersion.” Not yet, anyway remained unspoken. “Can’t say I’m a fan of the idea of you going in one of those tubes.”

“Tony, you’re not a fan of a lot of things where I’m concerned.”

“Yeah, that happens when I care.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll play with it some more. Run some simulations. I’ve got all your scans and we’ll see what the magic of Wakanda offers…”

“They sound more science fiction,” Natasha offered and he shot her a dry look. “What? I’m just saying.”

“They sound a long way away and if something goes wrong…”

“Tony, if or when I go, you can come if you want to.”

His expression shifted.

“You can talk to the scientists there. You can be a part of it; I’m not shutting you out. I’m not shutting any of you out. I’m just doing what _I_ need to do.”

“Red, _I_ need _you_ to be okay. I can pretty much handle everything as long as I know you’re going to be okay.”

“You know the funny thing is,” she said, pushing back from the table and facing him. “I’ll be fine. I lived through the Red Room, the KGB, Karpov, Madame B, and Ivan. I survived all of them. Did it hurt? Yeah. Does it sometimes still haunt me? That’s life. I survived Loki and Ultron…” He flinched on the last. “I survived the Other Guy. All of those hurt, too. But I did it. I survived Alexei and Leonid… and the formless and now The Mandarin. And you?” She spread her hands. “You’ve survived your own trials and you’re still surviving. You can handle anything, because you’re Iron Man. You made you.”

Just like she had made herself.

“And sooner or later, we have to talk about this.”

“Later,” Tony said. “It’s not important to right now.”

“That’s a cheap excuse,” she told him.

“It’s not cheap, it’s realistic. You made your choice. We’ve discussed that. You already guessed how I feel.”

Yes, she had.

“Talking about it just opens up the fact that I can’t have what I want and it puts you in the uncomfortable position of having to tell me no. Since I really don’t want to tell you no and I don’t want to make you have to do it… it’s not important right now.”

“First, you’re important, period. I don’t want you to hurt, either. And my feelings are complicated.”

He chuckled. “Welcome to the club. It’s the problem we geniuses have. Complicating everything.”

“If I tell you it would be better for you to let me go? To—try to build something with Pepper again? Or I don’t know, I can vet some women I think are good enough.”

“Oh God no,” he said with horror. “You don’t get to fix me up on dates and trust me, if I want to get laid, it’s not that hard.” From anyone else, that statement would be arrogant, but Tony wasn’t wrong. The problem was… “But I don’t want a shallow hook-up. And Red, leave Pepper out of this.”

“You still care about her.”

“I do and I always will. But it won’t work between her and I.”

“We can get rid of the boyfriend.”

“As sweet as that is of you to offer, I’m good. I made my peace with it. As long as _she_ is happy and safe, then she can date whomever.” He grimaced. “Not making it work with her? It hurt. It hurt for a long time. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” He tapped the table. “She’s my friend. You’re my friend. We’re all friends.” He laughed.

Her heart ached. “Tony…”

“See, this is why I didn’t want to talk about it when I can’t hug you.”

“We’re still not really talking about it, we’re dancing around it.”

“True, but we dance really well together.” Straightening, he cleared his throat. “Now, we have to make our babies, then we need to get this all set up so Laura has access and we can keep her safe.”

Rising, she moved around the table and put her hands on his shoulders. Tony went still and she leaned down pressed a kiss to his forehead. “We’re not done with this conversation. Because I care about you, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she told him, then flicked his ear and laughed. “Don’t call yourself unimportant again.”

“Then don’t make light of your pain again. You can handle it, maybe we can’t.”

She squeezed his shoulders and nodded. “I’ll work on that.”

It was only after she settled back in front of her screen that he said, “No, you won’t.”

“Nope, but then neither will you.”

“True enough.” He slid a glance at her and grinned. “But feel free to give me shit about it later and I’ll do the same.”

She chuckled. “We can do that.”

“Was that all?” He eyed her.

“We could talk about the Accords.”

He groaned.

“Or how I expect you to resume training.”

“Some days…I hate you.”

“I know,” she smiled.

Working on the code was going to take hours, but the act of working on it helped. She needed this. Friday ramped the music back up and Natasha set a timer. She needed her date with Steve, too.

So did he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note. I mentioned this before but I have been running on a lot of deadlines. While I can type a lot in a day, juggling other projects while working on this can lead to some astronomical word counts and that sometimes means I don't get these chapters done as fast as I'd like. So, in the interests of doing the best job I will skip a day here or there. I don't like it, I enjoy putting up new chapters every day, but I want them to be good chapters.
> 
> Also, I know this might seem slower-paced and people want answers to other questions faster, but there's a method to my madness. :) I promise.


	25. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Nat enjoy an evening together as she surprises him

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**Date Night**

**Steve**

Natasha spent most of her day working on code with Tony. Steve had half-expected her to force the issue with sparring, but she’d skipped out of it. He and Bucky had to roust the pair of them from Tony’s private lab to eat as well as get Peter from the lab where he’d been working.

Still, she’d been engaged and there was color in her cheeks. She promised to fill him in on the project later and then she and Tony vanished again. Not that Bucky was much better, after sparring he’d been hold up in his room, door shut and quiet enough that even Steve couldn’t catch a sound. After lunch, he’d gone with Peter to see his project.

Steve took the time to work on some sketches before lunch, after, he took advantage of the absences to go wrap presents. He had to keep Nat’s out of sight, even wrapped. He’d considered putting the wrong labels on them but she’d have even less guilt at sneaking into those than she did her own.

Surprising her took real effort and he’d managed it with the dates. Speaking of dates, he’d found his clothes set out for him and hanging on the door with a note that said _Read Me Whenever, But Before Dinner_.

There had been small print beneath that and he laughed.

_Go ahead, you know you wanna._

Amused, he slit the envelope open. She was right, he wanted to know.

_Steve,_

_I’m not good at these acts of affection, but I’ve had a pretty good teacher. Tonight is a little bit about you. A little bit about me. A little bit about us. But more, it’s about remembering we’re allowed to have fun. I know how dark things have been the last few weeks and tonight is about remembering we get to do the good things, too. I planned my first date for my floor (sorry to steal from your playbook) and I’m really looking forward to it. _

_Thank you for being you,_

_Nat_

He read it twice and then sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the clothes she’d hung up for him. The last few weeks had been dark. He’d had some of his best and worst moments in the last few months. In one note, she summed up exactly what he needed. The wargames had been amazing. The life in her eyes, the fact she’d been so invested and daring.

Even with Strange’s visit and news, lunch and shopping had been relaxing. More than he thought they could pull off. The fact she would keep pushing herself and needed them to help her push because she didn’t want to be controlled by anyone was a mixed bag for him.

Bucky liked it even less and Steve understood all of his reasons. He did. At the same time, he wanted to be able to run his fingers along her back, to curl up around her, to just press lazy kisses whenever he wanted. It was selfish, but she wanted it, too.

After reading the note one more time, he opened the drawer next to his bed to put it away and there was another note inside with his name on the front, written in her handwriting.

_I know I’m getting soft on you, Rogers. Did you know there’s a whole area of study devoted to love letters? They explore the language, the art of writing them, and how and when to send them among other things. Apparently, there are even people who fell in love while only ever communicating through the written word. There are even a few movies along those lines. _

_Maybe you’re on to something. Maybe I’ve written you a few notes to keep in your own drawer. You’ll have to find them. Good luck. I’ll give you two clues. There are four of them (the one on the closet door doesn’t count) and they are all on your floor. _

_Natasha_

A real grin stretched his cheeks and he glanced around the room. Natasha hid four letters? She would make them both challenging and easy. But he glanced at his closet. The one on the _door_ didn’t count. But he knew exactly where at least one of them would be.

After setting the two letters in the drawer, he headed for the closet. Peter had hidden a wrapped present in here earlier, something for Natasha. It was on a shelf near the top and just barely visible when he stepped back. After lifting it down, he caught the envelope sliding right off the top. There was a cross-eyed smiley face on the front.

Chuckling, he put the present back and then slit the envelope.

_Five bucks says you found this one first. Yes, I’m placing bets with myself on where you’d look. I guess that means I know you. More, I’ve enjoyed getting to know you even when I didn’t understand. Did you ever figure out why I was always sleeping on your sofa in D.C.? _

_I didn’t want you to be alone. I knew anyone coming in would have to get past me first and I’m a way lighter sleeper than you are. _

_Or it could be that you make really big meals and you started buying my favorite coffee. _

_You never know._

_Nat_

His cheeks ached from the smile. She had been forever showing up at his place. At one point, he really had wondered if she just didn’t have an apartment or maybe she lived with Clint but when Clint was out of town she didn’t want to be there alone.

She didn’t want him to be alone either.

Would she have hidden another in his room or would that be too easy?

He studied the bedroom for a moment, then picked up the photo next to the bed. He was very fond of that bikini, but more, he’d been fond of the fact she’d started to become more herself that day. Turning it around, he looked at the back and there was a sticky note that said _Warm_.

Warm.

She’d left another letter with a photo.

After putting the letter in the drawer, he set the photo back on the nightstand with the sticky note in place.

In the living room, he studied the framed photos on the shelf. But his gaze kept returning to the one of Bucky and Nat on the island. Bucky had been reading a book while Nat sprawled over him, sound asleep. Picking up the photo, he found the letter tucked against the back.

This one had just a happy face with a single tear dripping from its eye.

_Steve,_

_When I left you in D.C. with that file, I never believed you’d find the Winter Soldier. A part of me actually hoped you didn’t. I didn’t want him to hurt you again. More, I couldn’t explain why I felt about him the way I did. I have never been more grateful for your stubbornness than I was the day I realized what he meant to me. You are the reason we found each other this time. _

_You constantly give us time and you’ve never asked me to choose. If I could have put into words what that meant to me in Switzerland, I don’t think I could have. I didn’t want to let you go, but I couldn’t imagine being able to have you both. More, I treasure your friendship and, for a while, I thought you might both be better off without me. _

_No surprise to you, I’m sure. You always seem to know when I’m beginning to withdraw and you won’t let me. Now I’m in too deep, I’m attached. To both of you and to what we’re building. I don’t know where we’re all going to end up or if there is a happily for now much less ever after for someone like me, but I know wherever this story goes—I want you there. _

_Natasha_

His chest ached at the sentiment in that letter, the aching rawness. She kept tearing herself open for them and he understood exactly how lucky he was. The fact he loved them both and loved that they’d found each other made his choices really easy. Folding the letter closed, he scanned the room and then focused on the Christmas tree.

The envelope nestled in the branches just below the Captain America ornament she’d found. He’d hooked the Black Widow right next to his, she’d given him that smile the first time she’d noticed it. Her lips formed the word sap even as her eyes had bared how touched she’d been.

Or maybe she just thought he was cute, what did he know?

Swallowing, he pulled the envelope out bearing his name.

_The weird thing about Christmas is it celebrates a religious holiday but is deeply secular in nature. I don’t remember the first time I celebrated Christmas. Not for real. I remember my first Christmas with Laura and Clint. I remember the Christmases before then, some of them, between when I left in ’84 and when Clint recruited me. _

_It was pageantry and lights and western decadence run amok. To be honest, I didn’t get it even as a secular thing. I had nothing. Now, I have this family and this home and all these people and the one thing I can’t wait for is Christmas morning. I excited in a way I haven’t been in a long time._

_If you’re guessing it’s because I got you presents, then you’d be right. I want to see your faces when you open them. I want to hear the kids laugh when they tear into theirs (trust me there is no other sound like it). I want to make hot cocoa and eat pie. I want there to be a mess of boxes and wrestle with putting things together._

_I want that memory. _

_Nat_

_P.S. Presents are also welcome._

Laughter burst out of him and he shook his head. He wanted her to have all of those memories, too. More, he wanted her to have more of those memories to add to her collection. The photos on the wall were why. He had another one, just waiting for her on Christmas Eve. It was a group shot of all of them when she confronted them while they were all in a timeout. The smirk on her face had been—perfect.

There appeared to be no more notes in the living room, so he did a sweep of the kitchen and finally headed into her room. His gaze zeroed in on the shield.

Of course.

Moving to where it was tucked into place next to the bed, he found the envelope secured in one of the handles.

Setting the shield down, he sat on the edge of the bed and opened this one.

_Steve,_

_Where you are right now is where you belong. You keep offering to give James and I time. You’re right, we need it. We need you, too. We need our time with you and I need time with you. Don’t ever think you have to be somewhere else. I’m sneakier than you are anyway, I’ll find you. _

_I can’t wait for tonight. I hope you enjoy what I have planned. You keep giving me memories, I want to give you one._

_If not… we’ll just have to have a do-over until I get it right. _

_See you soon,_

_Nat_

“I’m already enjoying tonight, Angel.” Glancing at the bed, then at the time, he leaned back stretched out. “Friday?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“Can you wake me in about ninety minutes?”

“I can, shall I go into sleep mode until then?”

“Thank you.”

She dimmed the windows, blocking out the wall of snow and cold. It was warm in here and it smelled like Natasha. Rolling onto his side, he put his hand where she slept and then closed his eyes.

Ninety minutes, then he’d shower and change.

Maybe even wrap some of those presents she’d welcome.

~~~

He managed to wrap most of the presents he’d picked up. Some were small, some large. Shopping had never been his favorite thing, but he had managed to find a few items. At five, Friday nudged him that he was expected on Natasha’s floor at six sharp.

“Thank you Friday. Is everything going according to her plan?” he had to ask as he took the presents and carried them out to sit them under the tree. Normally, he’d leave them hidden in an effort to dissuade Natasha, but he’d packed a surprise into one of them and he rather looked forward to the idea of her opening it early.

It didn’t matter where he hid them, she was more than clever enough to find them if she put her mind to it. If a small act of rebellion made her happy, he wasn’t getting in the way of it.

“I believe so. Sergeant Barnes also asked me to let you know, he would make sure Peter ate, but they are deeply immersed in the lab and Boss appears to be heading that way as well.”

Steve shook his head. “Can we make sure they all remember to eventually get some sleep?”

“The Duchessa already instructed me on the lockout protocols if they looked like they were going to pull an all-nighter.”

“Trying out a new nickname?” Friday had been trying a few over the last week, most didn’t last one or two attempts.

“I am, I remained undecided on this one. Do you have any thoughts on it?”

“Calling her royalty isn’t a bad idea.”

“Boss suggested Red Queen, but that’s a mouthful.”

Steve did not snort; this was a serious conversation. “I can understand that. What does she think about Duchessa?”

“She has not dismissed it immediately, so I believe that is a good sign. However, I may continue to work on ideas.”

With a nod, he said, “Sounds good. Anything we need to know from first responders or other issues?” Just because New York was under a few feet of snow didn’t mean the rest of the world was. That it had _been_ this quiet promised it couldn’t last for much longer. Having not been called away from Nat the last week had been a gift. She’d really only been back with them for a week. He'd lost her for a week and she’d been back a week.

That she’d begun to bounce back, teasing, preparing food, and even getting all of them to play along—it was a little miracle.

“Currently emergency services have local issues well in hand. The power demands are running high, but with Boss moving so many critical systems at hospitals onto ARC reactors, the occasional brownouts have not caused a significant effect and the grid is holding.”

“Very good news, thank you, Friday.”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

He’d showered after his nap, but he waited to dress in the clothes Nat picked out. “Friday, one more question…” He tucked the shirt into the slacks. “Should I bring her anything for this date? Her favorite wine perhaps? Or no? Would she be okay with wine right now?”

“I do not believe it is _required_, but I also believe she would _enjoy_ the choice of whether to have it or not.” 

“You know, I want her to enjoy it,” he said slowly. She refused to let anyone or anything to control her, but he didn’t want to make it bad for her. “Now what are the chances we have the wine in the Tower?” He tightened his belt.

“This wine is hers and has been in the Tower and untouched. I will have some sent up to you, would you like me to make sure it is chilled?”

Cuffs buttoned, he chuckled. “Thank you, Friday.”

“My pleasure, Captain Rogers. I will have the elevator ready for you at six.” That gave him another thirty-five minutes. In their kitchen, he checked what they had in stock and pulled out two of the larger roasts and set it in the sink to defrost. While the building was too insulated to let in the sound of the winds outside, he could imagine them.

A pot roast would be nice the following day. Debating how much roast was in the sink versus his, Bucky’s and Pete’s appetites, he got out the third and last one. A quick check of the fridge showed they had some carrots, though not as many as he’d expected, but they definitely had onions and the bag of potatoes were in the pantry.

Jotting down a quick note for Bucky regarding the idea, he posted it on his door. Walking back into the bedroom, he retrieved the one oblong box he’d wrapped but hadn’t put under the tree.

As he left his room, the elevator opened. A chilled bottle of wine waited for him in a bucket along with a bottle of champagne. “Just in case?”

“I thought it couldn’t hurt.”

Well, the AI wasn’t wrong.

Curiosity threaded through him as the elevator carried him to her floor. When the doors opened, she stood waiting for him dressed in a breathtaking blue dress that very much reminded him of the night she taught him to dance. But instead of heels, she was barefoot—which was better considering how she’d abused them. Her only jewelry was his dog tags and the ever-present bracelet. One he would _never_ have an objection to her wearing now. The corner of her mouth curved up and he grinned.

“Hi,” he said slowly, drinking her in. She’d teased her curls so they framed her face. Aware she hadn’t been a fan of cutting her hair, he also couldn’t fault this look. It reminded him so much of when they’d met, though the hair was slightly longer. She’d told him she was happy, despite everything and looking at the light in her expression at the moment, he almost believed it.

“Hi,” she said, giving him the same once over he’d been giving her. What did she see when she studied him with those enigmatic eyes? For all that she took down those walls and let him in, there was still so much she kept close, secrets she hid away. “You clean up real nice, Rogers.”

“Oh, this old thing?” At the faint tease, her grin widened.

“C’mon in,” she told him and reached for the bucket but he passed her the present instead. All at once, it hit him that he didn’t smell anything. Nothing more than the warm vanilla and hints of citrus she favored in her soap and shampoo.

“What’s this?” She took the present from him and led him toward her living room. She’d shifted some of it around. There was a different table sitting in front of her sofa and the outer windows weren’t as opaque, giving them a full view of the storm’s fury. A pair of soft fuzzy blankets lay on the back of the sofa.

“I believe they call it a present,” he told her, enjoying the way those eyebrows raised and her nose scrunched a little. “I could be wrong, it might just be a wrapped box. I hope you don't mind. Where do you want this?”

“I love that you brought me my favorite wine and right there is fine,” she motioned to the side table next to the sofa. “I’ll get us some glasses in a moment. Should I open it now or is this a test of my willpower to see if I can resist discovering what’s inside it?”

Laughing, he set down the bucket where she indicated. “Not at all. You invited me out, but I still wanted to get you something. I thought letting you open a present early—that’s a bit of a gift all its own.”

Surprise flickered through her eyes and Steve dragged in a deep breath. Surprising her had become one of his favorite things. When she scraped her teeth over her bottom lip, he knew he had her. Something else in him uncoiled and relaxed. She wasn’t moderating her responses.

“You know, tonight was about me treating you,” she reminded him.

“I know and I’m already having a great time.”

“You found the letters.”

“I did,” he said, folding his arms so he didn’t circle the table and wrap them around her. The urge to pick her up and kiss the hell out of her had been ever-present for days. At the same time, the shadows in her eyes darkening when the touches became too much and the way she almost flinched. No, he’d keep his hands to himself.

He didn’t want to push her even when she wanted to push. At the same time, he missed holding her. The blanket idea in the book had been a damn good one. He’d found a couple of others that they could try, too. But later, after she had her fun.

“I loved them, Angel. I know I’m always welcome. You don’t have to reassure me.”

“Sometimes it feels like I do,” she said. “Sometimes, I feel like I get so caught up and I don’t want you to think I’m leaving you behind.”

“Go ahead and try.”

She tilted her head. “You want me to leave you behind?”

“No, but I also know I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, but I have feeling… when you do get them back. I will know.”

“Because it feels like yesterday,” she whispered. “James felt that way when it all rushed back.”

“A little,” he said. Bucky hadn’t talked to her about it much at the time. He’d been struggling so much with how much he got back, with the idea they had a child and he had no idea what happened to her, with wanting to tell Natasha and at the same time, not wanting to wreck her with the news if he was wrong. “Either way, I’m here. If you try to leave me behind…I run faster than you do. You might be more clever, but I’m way more stubborn.”

She snorted. “I think I can give you a run for the money.”

“I know you can,” he said. “But you can open it now, Angel.”

Sticking her tongue out at him, she said, “Friday can you start my fire please?”

The television turned on and acted like a faux fireplace with hints of wood crackling sounding through the room. Then she slit the paper open with far more care than she usually took. He’d seen her shred paper, but she was teasing him. He enjoyed himself far too much to complain. After setting the paper aside, she set the long oblong box down and then lifted the lid off and inside, nestled against the paper was a crystal rose.

Natasha stared at it for a long moment and then lifted it out. It gleamed in the low light and she glanced at him.

“It’s a rose that will last forever.”

She licked her lips and turned it. It was an exquisite piece of work, Waterford crystal, heavy and yet it looked completely delicate.

“I thought I’d get you one every Christmas. You can add them to a collection. Roses say I love you, and I do,” he promised. “These are roses you’re always going to have. They won’t fade or wilt. You can keep them here…” Because she’d kept her floor and while she lived with him and Bucky, she needed her space, too. “Or take them back to our floor.”

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “I—it’s so delicate and yet…”

“Looks can be deceiving, even the most fragile in appearance, can have depths of unmatched strength and fortitude.” God, he wanted to kiss her.

“Okay, that's sappy…” She pressed her lips together, then looked at him from beneath her lashes. “But I’ll allow it for this because I really like it.”

He lifted his chin as he laughed. “I would indulge you in all the sap you can handle. I’ll even let you tease me. Since you wrote me love letters.”

“Well you started it,” she scolded, then turned to the shelves near the television and very carefully set the rose in place. With equal care she closed the box.

“Guilty as charged.”

Box and paper in hand, she narrowed the distance and rose on her tiptoes. Rather than letting her stress her already bruised feet, he dipped his head and smiled when she pressed her lips to his. It was a gentle kiss, the light of a butterfly’s wings and then gone again. When she smiled up at him, he sighed a little. She really did look happy, there was warmth in her cheeks and her eyes were bright.

“Now,” she said, stepping back. “If you would be so kind as to take a seat.” She gestured to the sofa. “I will go get the glasses.”

“I can do that…”

“Ah,” she told him. “My date. My rules. Sit.”

“Ma’am,” he nodded, raising his hands as he took a seat.

“Thank you.” With a wink, she walked away and there was definitely a sway in her hips and the back of her dress was nearly as breathtaking as the front. It was comprised of crisscrossing strings over her back, leaving it near bare right down to the dip over her ass. Then the skirt dropped to her knees. The fabric had to be some kind of silk or satin, because it shimmered as she moved.

“Would you like me to open one of these bottles?”

“Absolutely, I’ll bring you the corkscrew.”

“Do you want to start with the wine then?” He tilted his head but he couldn’t quite see what she was doing as she moved around in the kitchen. Then she returned with a pair of wine glasses and champagne flutes. He took them from her and set them down. Then she handed him the corkscrew.

“We can start with the champagne if you like, I think it will go fine with the first course. The wine will probably be better with the second.”

“Sounds good.” Though he still couldn’t smell anything. The chances they got something delivered—small. Then again, Tony could pull off small miracles. She could have fixed the food on another floor to throw him off, but that would be a lot of trouble to go to. He’d gotten her sushi for dinner because he knew how much she loved it. His dislike was equally well known especially after his attempt.

Yeah, he’d rather skip a repeat of that particular experience.

She touched something on the side of the table and the center rolled back and lifted up a fraction and then resettled with a silver plate now visible in the center of the table. That was different. Curiosity nibbled at him, but he worked on opening the champagne. He had to be careful so he didn’t break the bottle.

“Loud pop,” he warned her before it went and he caught the cork to keep it from flying across the room. The bottle’s angle over the bucket kept him from spilling anything then he filled one glass, then the other with the bubbly fizz.

The drink did nothing for him and he suspected it did nothing for Natasha, but rather, it was the act of drinking it she enjoyed. The bubbles were nice. He could admit that. Holding out a glass to her, he smiled when she brushed his fingers to accept it.

“To you,” he said, simply. “Thank you for this.”

“This hasn’t even started,” she told him, her tone almost prim. “I just hope you enjoy it.”

He chuckled. “I’m here with you. I’m enjoying it. Though, I did ask to take you out—for real this time—since we can go out.” Their last rounds of dating had all been while she was a fugitive, not that he was complaining. He’d gotten creative and then life had taken a whack at them.

“You will,” she told him. “We have what we have, when have it. We’re allowed to take time for us and I wanted this time. So if we’re toasting to me, we’re toasting to you.”

Their glasses clinked gently and then she took a drink of it, he waited a moment while she tested the flavor then she nodded before she drained the whole thing. Laughter shook him. “It’s not vodka.”

“Oh I know,” she said. “It’s more funny, fizzy water—but it tastes good.”

He tested a sip. Rolling it around his tongue, he tested the flavor. It wasn’t the best thing he’d ever drunk, but he couldn’t really complain either. “Not bad.”

“I have beer, too,” she promised. “And ale.”

“Because you are a smart, capable, and extremely prepared woman.”

“I’ll take your flattery and counter with, I’m your partner, I’m supposed to know what you need before you need it.”

That she often did. “Touché. More champagne?”

She handed him back the glass. “If you don’t mind and I’ll be right back.”

He refilled her glass and finished his own. A second glass wouldn’t hurt and he waited. She returned with a heavy pot in an odd shaped holder that she set in the middle of the table on the silver section. The pot holders told him it was hot, then she unscrewed the top and removed it. After setting those things aside she walked back to the kitchen.

Steve stole a look in the pot. It was—empty, though there were hints of steam rising from around it.

More curious than anything, he raised his eyebrows as she carried a tray of items in small dishes and a pair of bottles. After setting it down on the table next to the pot, she lowered herself to kneel on—oh, she’d put pillows down on the other side of the table.

“I hope you don’t mind, I wanted to make the evening special by making sure you could check something off of your list.”

“All right,” he said slowly.

She poured the first liquid into the pot and it was definitely beer. “This is beer, garlic, dry mustard and Worcestershire,” she told him as she added one after the other to the pot.

Bracing his chin on his hand, he rested his elbow on his knee and studied her. She looked perfectly serene as she added each component. There was cheese and a small dish of something else on her tray along with a whisk.

“We want it to warm up some, which reminds me the pot is very hot and so is this silver section…it’s a hot plate.”

“That’s why the new table.”

She grinned. “Yes, that’s why the new table. Friday found it for me in storage and I requisitioned it.”

“Okay.” Eyes narrowed thoughtfully, he took another sip of the champagne.

As the mixture in the pot began to steam the scent of the beer grew a little stronger as did the garlic and the Worcestershire. All rather appetizing on their own, but this was a different combination.

“Now we add the cheese,” she told him and scraped off all the shredded cheese she had on the plate into the bowl. “This is aged and sharp cheddars, some milder Colby. And this,” she continued as she moved the small dish of white stuff over. “This is called green goddess. It’s a kind of dressing, it helps enhance the flavors along with the beer and the rest.”

With a whisk, she began mixing it together. The cheese melted beautifully and seemed to thicken once it was nearly smooth, she adjusted something on the side of the table and then set the whisk on the tray before she rose and carried the empty bowls away.

Steve’s stomach grumbled, but took a sip of the champagne to cover. Only when she returned with another tray filled with apple slices, bread, and vegetables along with skewers did it hit him.

“You’re making me fondue.” Shock rippled through him followed by a sense of absolute wonder, which crashed, headlong, into delight.

“Yes,” she said grinning. “Want to fondue?”

Shaking his head, he laughed and stared at her. “Natasha…”

“Good idea?” she looked so hopeful as she picked up one of the skewers the impaled an apple.

“It’s a wonderful idea.” After all the teasing, it was also something he should have expected. She might have enjoyed ribbing him, but she was going to take away the power of it by making sure he could say honestly—they’d fondue’d no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

Her grin was everything he could hope for.

“All right, show me how it’s done?”

She circled the table to sit next to him, then moved the tray closer. “You use these skewers to dip the food into the cheese, it’ll warm, but not super hot at the top. It’ll be hotter toward the bottom. It’s very drippy even as thick as it is.” She plunged the apple into the cheese, then used a small plate to catch the drips as she lifted it out and over. “Technically you shouldn’t eat off the skewers, but I don’t mind sharing spit with you and it’s not too hot.”

He snorted at the comment about spit. To be honest, he didn’t care too much either. Then she lifted the cheese-coated apple to his mouth and he took the bite. The apple was crisp and sharp and the cheese was smooth, a little tangy and the beer really did enhance the flavor. It was the perfect combination.

“That’s good,” he told her after he chewed and swallowed.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She looked so tickled he had to grin. Eating in such small portions would take forever, but it was also fun.

“This is just the first course,” she reminded him as he dipped the bread.

“Duly noted,” he replied as they clinked their champagne glasses together. Of the options, the apples in the cheese were his favorite, but the vegetables and the bread were a close second.

The champagne did pair well, but she took mercy on him and got him an ale. That was much better in his opinion. By the time they wrapped up with the cheese, he had eased his shoes off and joined her in sitting on the floor next to the table. With the cushions, it was more comfortable and relaxed. Fondue seemed more like a fancy picnic than some elegant meal.

“Have you ever sailed across an ocean on a _sailboat_ with no land in sight and not even the possibility of seeing it for days to come?” Natasha eyed him as she sipped her third glass of champagne. He was finishing up the last of the apples and shook his head.

“No, I’m just thinking it’s got to feel amazing. The challenge of it. You against the elements, trusting the wind, navigating by the stars—it’s romantic.”

“It sucks,” Natasha said utterly bursting his bubble. “It’s hot or it’s cold. The wind can rip from the wrong direction and you can lose a couple of miles before you can get the sales adjusted. Then there are the storms, which in a sailboat means you lash your sails as tight as you can in the hopes that you won’t lose them. Then if you do or one rips, you have to mend it so you can keep going. You want to sail the world, we do it in a yacht—or you can take the sailboat and I’ll trundle along in the yacht and pick you up.”

“So cynical,” he teased and offered her the last apple with the cheese and she took the bite right from his fingers and then caught his hand to suck the cheese off lightly. The pull went right to his cock and he eyed her. “And teasing.”

“Who’s cynical now?” She grinned, then set her glass aside as she rose. He had a hand ready to steady her, not that she required it. Her feet actually did look much better than that morning. The fact she’d taken the time to do something she needed, he could appreciate.

“So, if I got a sailboat and said I wanted to sail the world, you wouldn’t come with me? For real? You’d make me leave you in port or to trundle along behind me in another boat?”

She made a great show of an exasperated sigh. “It depends.” She put the metal lid on the pot and lifted it off the hot plate, using the potholders and carried it to the kitchen.

“On what?” He took a sip of the ale.

“On how important it was to you.”

That warmed him. “So, you’re saying if it’s very important you’ll go?”

She returned with a new pot and set it on the warmer before gathering the boards and plates they’d already used. “No, I’m saying if it’s that important, I’ll have to be creative in how I convince you to spend your time with all of this…” She motioned to herself. “On a yacht, with a very powerful engine and all the creature comforts.”

Throwing his head back, he laughed. “You’re terrible, Angel.”

“I don’t hear you denying that I can do it.”

No, he would never deny that. “I just always thought it would be—freeing. To be the captain of my own destiny, to stand at the helm and to work with or against the elements. To know there’s no phone calls or assembles, just us and the ocean and wherever it takes us.”

When she returned, she turned up the heat on the pot on the warmer and he studied it.

“This is coq au vin. It’s vegetable broth with mushrooms, garlic, some green onions and a cup of burgundy wine.” Gazing at him from across the table, she said, “And if it’s very important to you, I will go—just deal with my complaints and if it all goes epically wrong—that and all my pirate songs.”

That just made him laugh harder. Because he absolutely believed her. “I’ll keep that in mind, matey.”

She snorted.

“What would you like to do? I want to sail the oceans.”

“Hmm… I want to go to Paris. Shop, walk along the seine. Dance until midnight and then dance in the rain. I want to be a lazy tourist who soaks up the ambience.” She tilted her head. “I want take you to the Louvre and see all the art through your eyes. Explore the city.”

“You’ve been to Paris.”

“Many times,” she admitted. “I never get tired of it.” After a glance down at the pot, she headed for the kitchen. “That’s almost hot enough. This course is a little different.”

Paris. She’d lost her safe house there, but they could go on the pretext of finding another one. A solid business reason, then they could turn it into a vacation. Spring time, maybe?

She returned with a much larger tray this time, loaded with meat cuts. There was steak, chicken, and shrimp easily identified. Different steak cuts, too. “Some of these are different…” There were fresh skewers with it. “I’ve got honey-orange duck breast, filet mignon, garlic pepper steak, shrimp, dry rub pork, Andouille sausage, and of course, chicken breast.”

There was a lot of meat and he was already hungry. “And presumably we have to cook it in the fondue pot?”

“Exactly.” She handed him a skewer. “This time, you shouldn’t eat off the skewers because it touches the raw meat and it can make you sick, we’d be fine, just feeling unpleasant if it gave us any food poisoning and I’d rather skip that.”

“Ditto.” Not a difficult thing to agree with.

“This is still heating up, so we’ll need a little extra time to cook each piece—for example, shrimp will cook in about a minute, for the steak, you want about a minute to ninety seconds for rare to medium rare. The chicken should have two to there minutes, same with the duck. The sausage is about two minutes. The pork about two to three.”

She speared one of the pieces of shrimp. And set it into the pot, then headed back to the kitchen. When she came back she had plates and forks.

“Should I open the wine?”

“Yes please,” she set the plates down then removed their champagne glasses.

“And I know this is your date, Angel, but I’m helping you with clean up after.”

Laughing, she called, “I won’t tell you no.”

Good.

When she returned, she removed the shrimp and set it on his plate then offered it to him. The first bite was delightful and he nodded slowly. “I think I’m beginning to like the fondue—though I’m hungry enough to eat all of this if it were ready.”

“Well we could cheat,” she pointed out.

He lifted his brows. With care, she sectioned out garlic pepper steak, all of the morsels and put them into the coq au vin, then scooted back to the kitchen. She returned with a slotted spoon.

“Search and rescue?” She handed it to him and he grinned.

“I love the idea, just it takes a while.”

“The idea is it gives us time to talk, we eat slower, and we savor the meal.”

“All right, I promise to savor the rest after we split the steak that’s in there.” That sounded reasonable enough.

If it was possible, the meat was even better than the cheese. He indulged in letting the skewers cook the pieces one at a time while Natasha fed him bits of steak and enjoyed her wine after he had the first drink. Subtle, but he hadn't missed the way she tracked him taking a drink. No, she wouldn't let her own reactions hold her hostage. After her first sip, she relaxed further.

“What would you like to do in Paris that you’ve never done?” She had a whole long life before him, though it hadn’t been filled with what he would label good memories. There were so many things she’d done. He wanted to give her one she hadn’t.

“Hmm… there’s a place in the 19th Arrondissement called Moncouer Belleville. I’ve heard about, but I’ve never been. They have this spectacular location where you can see much of the Paris skyline from their terrace, it’s in a very edgy hip part of town. When the weather is good, usually starting in late April, they have live jazz concerts out there every Sunday after brunch. The menu is supposed to be divine, but imagine sitting there, drinking wine with Paris out there and the music?”

That was happening no matter what he had to do. “It sounds divine.”

“There are museums there and gardens. So much to explore. Or maybe just listen to the music and while away the hours with nowhere we have to be.”

“Kind of like my sailboat only in a city.”

“With drinks,” she said with a grin. “And music.”

The conversation turned to her favorite parts of Paris. He’d never really gotten to see it during the war, even after they drove the Germans out, there hadn’t been time. He and Commandos had focused their efforts on Hydra.

“Well, what about you? Where’s one place you’d love to go?”

“Anywhere,” he said. “There’s so much world to see. Pick a country on the map, let’s go see it.” They’d eaten their way through most of the meat and she’d already surrendered much of the last to him while she sat sideways against the sofa studying him as she drank her wine. “I’ve seen quite a bit with all the missions, but…”

“That’s not really seeing it. Dropping into the Indian Ocean to take back a SHIELD launch ship isn’t really something you can stamp in your passport.”

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not. Wakanda. I really want to show you Wakanda and not just because I want them to help you. It’s… it’s stunning, Angel. I’ve never seen a place like it. The culture is a huge part of it, but the city is expansive and lush, and it’s a mixture of old world and new and even more modern than New York, maybe even more advanced.” No there was no maybe about that part. “Then there’s the jungles, savannah, and the lakes and the mountains. I could get lost there happily.”

“You may get your wish sooner rather than later.”

Without a thought, he brushed his knuckles down her cheek and then he hesitated. They’d relaxed and he…

“It’s all right,” she murmured, leaning her cheek into the touch. “This is what I wanted…just don’t let yourself think about it too long.”

“You’ll tell me when it’s too much?”

“I promise.”

By the time they got to dessert, Natasha had finished her second glass of wine and gotten him a glass of water. This time, he rose to help her clear and get yet another pot, this time, she mixed chocolates. It was dark and white forming a yin-yang and it was gorgeous in its elegance.

To go with the chocolate were strawberries, bananas, raspberries, pound cake, cheesecake, Oreos, Nutter Butters, and…

“Nat, are those Rice Krispies treats?”

She grinned.

He had a serious weakness for those things. It used to be a competition with Thor over who could eat more of them. But Natasha banned them from the kitchen whenever she made them because they’d never be done before he and Thor descended.

“When did you make all of these?”

“I took a break from the coding and stole the penthouse kitchen, then went back to it.”

He laughed. “How did you keep Tony out of them?”

“I bribed him with the brownies.”

Hence why there were none on the plate. That was fine. He wasn’t as much a fan of brownies as Rice Krispies treats.

“Angel?”

She turned, potholder in hand to carry the chocolate out to the living room.

“Casual touches?”

“Casual touches.”

He tucked a finger under her chin and dipped his head. Brushing his mouth to hers, he tested her boundaries. One soft kiss led to another, then he teased the seam of her lips with his tongue. When she opened up to let him in, he groaned. Dueling with her tongue was as familiar and as fascinatingly new as ever. Slow and deep, then hot and biting. When she finally pressed her hand to his chest, he had to suck in a ragged breath as he lifted his head. Her pupils were huge and her panting matched his.

Crap. Had he pushed too much?

“Shh,” she whispered, rubbing her palm to his chest in a soothing circle. “Just—very turned on at the moment and not sure I can last long enough to see that to its natural conclusion. Frustrated and horny are not my favorite conditions.”

Pressing his lips to her forehead, he whispered, “Trust me, I am familiar.”

“Chocolate,” she whispered. “It’s the cure for a lot—but it also releases in same endorphins in women that sex does.”

“Only in women?”

“Let’s find out.”

His skin hummed. It was like kissing her for the first time all over again. As she carried the chocolate out he adjusted himself a little then scooped up the tray. He could wait years if she needed him, too. Didn’t mean it was going to be totally comfortable.

The wine was abandoned for the champagne as they dipped the treats in the chocolate. Natasha ended up with a smear at the corner of her mouth and he leaned over to kiss her lightly, then licked it clean. Her pupils flared again, but she didn’t push him away before he retreated. Conversation turned to movies and the shows they had yet to catch up on.

“Steve,” she asked as she finished a chocolate-covered strawberry and washed it down with the champagne. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” he told her, eating the last of the treats. She’d left all of those to him and he’d eaten them happily. The treats alone were fantastic, dipped in the white and dark chocolate they were heavenly.

“It might spoil the mood a little. I’m having a lot of fun and I hope you are, too. But…”

“It’s important?” He studied her. “For the record, I’m having an amazing time. I’ll fondue with you anytime you want.”

She giggled, then sobered. “It’s important… to me.”

“Then ask.”

He braced himself, for whatever it would be. Thinking about what treatments Shuri or Strange could come up with was daunting enough. The idea had already crossed his mind about having to see her in cryo as he had Bucky. The only thing keeping him from losing his mind over the idea was it might help. Maybe.

Though the whole concept made him ill.

“You have a picture on your desk at the Compound.”

The one of the two of them after they’d gone up against a group that had stolen Chitauri weapons. Tony had turned their return to the Tower into an impromptu party because Thor had informed them he needed to return to Asgard for a brief time.

“I know the one.”

“Maybe I didn’t notice it before…”

Steve winced. “I—didn’t have it out where people could see it before. I kept it in one of the cabinets.”

She frowned.

“It was—a personal picture for me and I still thought you were with Clint then and it seemed kind of wrong to hold onto that cropped image.”

“So it is cropped?” She studied him.

He sighed. This was a tad embarrassing. “It’s all of us, I think Pepper may have taken it or Jane.” He shook his head. “I actually don’t remember. We’d come back from that mission to Mexico City. A full shipping container of Chitauri weapons ‘disappeared’ from a SHIELD facility and ended up with the _Soldados Rebeldes_ movement. Anyway, we walked in _triumphant_.” He rolled his eyes. “More like Tony strutted in claiming he’d done all the heavy lifting and then he and Thor compared their heroic deeds.”

A flash of a smile danced across her face.

“And you know how they got. Then Clint started egging them on—and you know, he started teasing you to get you to remind them who actually took out the container itself so they couldn’t get any more weapons?” It had been hilarious _after_ the fact. When he’d realized where Nat had gone in the middle of the fight, he’d wanted to throttle her. But she’d slipped in past their barricades like a shadow as Thor and Tony hammered their way through the front gates, but took the heavy fire. Steve had been ready to call in the Other Guy when a massive explosion took out the container and knocked out half of the three hundred or so fighters they were up against. Then it had been a mop up.

She continued to study him and Steve frowned.

“You don’t remember, do you?”

With a slow shake of her head, she said, “No.”

Anger snapped like a band inside of him. He forced his hand to unclench and then took a steadying breath. After that mission, like right after the party, she’d gotten summoned back to the Triskelion. They’d been standing on the deck just outside the penthouse laughing together when she got the call.

And they’d probably put her in that damn machine as soon as she was there. While he and the other Avengers continued to relax and enjoy themselves in New York.

Light fingers settled over his hand and he jerked his gaze to hers.

“Stay here with me,” she whispered. “Tell me what you remember—the good part.”

Bottling the anger because she didn’t need that form him at the moment, he’d pound it out on a speed bag later. Opening his hand, he settled it palm up and she rested her hand in his.

“Clint was teasing you to get you to remind them that you actually took down the most, but you had no interest. You just downed a shot of vodka and flipped him the bird.”

She grinned. “That sounds like me.”

It did sound like her.

“Then someone said, let’s take a picture of the conquering heroes and we all gathered. Thor puffed out his chest and took the center, grinning as he does. Proud.” Thor was even taller than Steve. “So then Tony kicks in the repulsors so he can stand can get a little higher and they were both egging each other on and suddenly, you bounced up and landed on my back, arms around my neck and said, ‘Even the tiniest Avenger can be bigger than both of you because I have Cap on my team.’”

Steve’s smile grew.

“They snapped the picture right then. In the full one, Thor is laughing, Clint’s got a smirk and Tony’s face shield came up while he glared. It’s a great photo.”

“Then why don’t you have the whole one?”

“Because you were hugging me and you weren’t even holding on that tight, like you knew I’d catch you and you laughed. God, Nat you were laughing and it was… a perfect moment.”

And she didn’t remember it.

He had never hated someone the way he hated every single person in Hydra who had ever laid a finger on her or Buck.

“Well then I’m glad I have you to remind me,” she whispered. “It’s a great picture.”

“You want one for our floor?”

“Yes. The one with all of us—was Bruce not in it?”

“No, he said he sat out the mission and he was too busy laughing at Thor and Tony.”

She squeezed his hand. “I miss Thor sometimes.”

“Me, too,” Steve admitted. “Especially when there’s a huge fight. But other times, too. He always thought some of our arguments were so petty.”

“Not always. Usually the most biting and sniping ones. But only because he was missing his brother.”

Of course, she’d notice that.

“Thank you for telling me.”

He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Thank you for tonight.”

“I didn’t spoil it?”

No matter how much he hated what happened to her, he wouldn’t let it spoil her evening. “No, you reminded me of something I’d almost forgotten. I tend to focus on the fact you kind of claimed me. Said I was your team.”

“You are my team,” she reminded him. “You’re my partner. We were still getting the hang of it at SHIELD then.”

He nodded. They’d still been taking her away. Two weeks. She was gone two weeks after that op and she’d come back with a black eye, head laceration, dislocated pelvis and multiple contusions. She’d just come straight to the Tower. Wouldn’t tell any of them what the mission had been—had she even remembered it at that point? Bruce had helped patch her up and Steve had tried to figure out where she’d been, but all she’d done was kiss him on the cheek and tell him he worried too much.

He hadn’t worried enough.

“Steve…”

“I’m here,” he whispered and kissed her hand again. Focusing on her, he unearthed a smile. Tomorrow, he would ask Tony to help him figure out what they’d sent her to do. “I love you.”

She grinned. “Do you love me enough to watch rom coms?”

Chuckling, he kissed her and said, “I love you enough to go find Bucky and everyone else and make them watch rom coms with us, too.”

When her eyes lit up, he knew he made the right call. She needed the warmth around her.

“Our floor or here?”

“Ours. Pajamas. Blanket.”

“Hot cocoa,” he said firmly. “Okay, let’s clean this up. Should we save anything for Peter?”

“No, Tony and James promised to make sure he ate which means they made sure they ate, too.”

With a laugh, Steve started helping her carry the stuff into the kitchen. He had to pack away the urge to beat something. It wouldn’t help anything right now. “You do that a lot, you know.”

“Trick people into looking after themselves?”

“Yes, and putting us in charge of looking after each other.” It was one of the things he loved about her.

“Efficient and effective,” she said with a wink.

And very loving. “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed. “What are we watching tonight?”

“Hmm…_You’ve Got Mail.”_

He frowned.

“Did you ever see _The Shop Around the Corner_?”

“Yeah, Jimmy Stewart was in that—it was set in Budapest.” Which was funny now considering how Natasha and Clint often tossed that at each other.

“_You’ve Got Mail_ is kind of like its granddaughter. Only with email.”

“Pen pals,” he said with a slow smile. “And love letters.”

Once they’d cleaned up, he whipped the blanket off the sofa and wrapped it all the way around her and scooped her up. When he kissed her this time, he settled for nuzzling the lingering taste of chocolate from her lips.

“Tonight was amazing, thank you.”

She grinned. “Thank you. I really needed this.”

So had he.

“Rom com?”

She nodded once. “Rom com.”

“Friday,” he called as he headed for the elevator, indulging himself in cradling her. “Would you let the guys know their presence is requested for movies and hot cocoa?”

“Should I tell them it’s a rom com?” Friday asked in an amused tone.

Natasha glanced at Steve and they considered each other a moment before they said, “Nope.”

“They’ll stay for it anyway,” Natasha said as she rubbed her cheek to his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said. “Cause they want your cocoa.”

And she laughed.

He wasn’t wrong.


	26. Options

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha learns about some of the options on the table

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**Options**

**Natasha**

Twisting, she caught the fist flying at her and used her assailant’s momentum, even as she turned the blow to glance off her shoulder she was climbing him. Legs scissored around him, she wrenched him downward. They rolled together, a collision of force. The slam of her back into the floor pushed all the air out of her lungs, but she was already moving.

Wrenching his arm until the shoulder popped, she rolled them over and slid the knife from its sheath on her leg. Up on her feet, she sliced his Achilles tendon on his right foot even as he struggled to his feet, then the ligament behind his knee on the left. A shocking sob broke from him as he went down.

Blows with the knife, sharp fast thrusts to the nerve centers in his shoulder would send agony down his arms even as she rendered them useless. Rising, she used her foot to kick him over. With precise aim she plunged the blade twice into his belly, dragging the second one. It would eviscerate his intestines. A horrible way to die.

Fitting.

His howl of pain turned into agonizing whimpers.

Leaning close, she whispered in his ear, “Are you experiencing any malfunctions in your performance?”

His eyes narrowed. Old. Fat. Slow. The bastard should have kept guards.

She tilted her head to the side as she sat up. He wasn’t moving. Already, blood filled his abdominal cavity. He struggled for air and sweat decorated his brow.

“Are you afraid?” she whispered.

The defiance in his eyes had already begun to wane. He was dying on the ugly ass carpet of this disgusting hotel room tonight. In his arrogance, he’d invited her here and thought all he had to do was snap his fingers. Then again, she’d let him believe he wielded the power. Let him _lure_ her in or so he thought.

Circling him, she studied the pallor of his face and fat droplets of perspiration rolling down his skin. “Are you?”

A wet, shuddering breath escaped him.

“You are,” she said softly. “Aren’t you?”

A convulsive swallow and he flopped an arm, more like a fish than an appendage. Dropping to her knees on his chest, she pushed the air out of his lungs and he wheezed, the struggle for air real. After cleaning off her blade on his shirt, she slid it into the sheath on her thigh. Rising, she left him gasping for air as he could suddenly inhale and crossed to the bar.

“You brought the good vodka,” she said. “Well done, Comrade.” She filled the shot glass then tossed back a full measure before walking with the bottle back to where he lay. “What was that?” She made a show of listening. “You want some?”

He stared at her, a strangled sound coming from his throat. It was hard to talk considering she’d crushed his larynx with her first blow. Tipping the bottle back, she took a long pull. Then she pulled out a chair and sat, crossing one leg over the other.

“You have time, you know. To die. It will take a little while.”

A whistle of sound, a half-formed scream he had neither the air nor the capacity to release.

Swirling the vodka, she said, “I could end it quickly, if you ask me nicely.”

His eyes widened and an angry flush suffused his face. Smiling slowly, she saluted him with the bottle and took another drink.

“You can’t outrun fear, Comrade Karpov. You have to run into it. Don’t fight it,” she whispered. “Just let it consume you—then the panic will subside and the world will go dark and your stench will be gone forever.”

It took Karpov almost two hours until the death rattle finally escaped him and his eyes glazed over indicating physical death. His mind was gone long before that, consumed by his fear. The smell of his piss and sweat stank up the room. Taking one of the bottles of cheap vodka, she drenched his body in it and then drained the last of the good.

Striking a match, she tossed it back into the room before she slipped out the window. The Soldier waited for her at the corner of the building, blended into the shadows.

“It’s done,” she told him. “He will never hold your leash again.”

When he dipped his head and kissed her, she tasted the cordite still on both of them. Blood. Smoke. Gunpowder. They’d bathed in it. They still had to return and report in while avoiding detection for being so far off mission. But she’d accounted for the time.

No one need ever suspect them.

If they did? So what.

They were far more valuable than that scum. She’d take the fall. As long as he could never hurt her soldat again.

~~~

Her eyes snapped open and met the quiet question in James’ pale blue gaze. The half-light of the room told her nothing about the time, it had been a near white-out the day before. James was on his back while she was curled on her stomach. The lack of warmth behind her told her Steve had already gotten up.

“Natalia?”

Carefully, she reached over and caressed her fingers down James’ cheek. “I killed Karpov.”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “You did.”

She’d tortured him, too. Yet, she found not one shred of guilt in her for those choices. He searched her gaze as she traced the line of his jaw then up to his lips where she ran her thumb over the lower one.

“I made it hurt.”

Another nod.

“You stayed outside because if you’d been in there…”

“He would have known for one,” James said gently. “Or he would have ordered me to protect him.” With care, he ran his knuckles along her blanketed side. “I was close.”

“You didn’t want me to do it.”

“I wanted him to die. I didn’t want the blame to fall on you,” he admitted. “Or the burden. But you had a plan. Our mission to Istanbul took very little time to finish. He was in Bulgaria. We acquired a vehicle, drove four hours to Plovdiv. You arranged to let him see you at a nightclub. You said he was too much of an arrogant fool to miss an opportunity to put you on your knees.”

Disgust curled in his voice.

“Well, I did end up on my knees. Crushing the air from his lungs.” No, not one whit of guilt. That filth should have died long before then.

“Then we drove back. By dawn, we were at the safe house for extraction exactly on schedule. Word of his death didn’t reach Moscow for another month and by then…” James shrugged.

“I wish killing him had ended it.”

“Yes, but neither of us were ever idealistic enough to have thought that was a real possibility.”

No, she supposed not.

Rising on her elbows, she leaned over and nuzzled a kiss to the corner of his mouth. With care, he stroked his fingers over her hair while indulging her in a lazy kiss. When she opened her eyes to look at him, she murmured, “Morning.”

“Good morning.”

Glancing at the empty side of the bed, she asked, “Steve?”

“Running.”

She glanced toward the windows.

“On the treadmill,” James said, twirling one of her curls around his finger. “I think he dragged Tony down there because he wanted to talk to him and said he needed to show some sign of exercising or you were going to get him.”

Natasha chuckled. “You skipped out on running with him?”

“I wanted the view I had right here,” he said. “You and Stevie seemed to be in a good mood last night? Good date?”

She nodded. “I think so, I had fun, anyway. Liked coming back to watch movies, too.”

He groaned. “I’m not sure which one was more disturbing. The email or the coma.”

“_While You Were Sleeping_ is something of a fantasy. She tripped over a family because she fell for the idea of a guy then she found the right one. I like thinking those things happen. And in _You’ve Got Mail, _she loved her shop but it was holding her back and one of the things they both needed was to get out of their comfort zones.”

“Yeah, that’s what they needed.” His dry tone made her smile. “Still not a fan of the jerk of an older brother.”

“Was it the one ball or the fact he decided he might want to love her, too?”

He grimaced. “The less said about the former the better and that asshat didn’t even know how to really love his insane family, he would have been terrible for her.”

“So the right guy got the girl?”

“Maybe—I think the girl got the family and that was better.”

Her too, really. She rolled onto her side and propped her head up. “Going back to the lab today?”

“Maybe,” he said. “It was interesting to watch Peter work on a design.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “Instinctive. He doesn’t necessarily want to follow something already set up, he likes to feel his way through it.”

“Oh, that can be messy.”

James nodded once.

“You hate messy.”

“I don’t hate it,” he commented, folding his arms behind his head. “I just don’t find it efficient.”

“But you had fun?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I did. Tony came down and joined in… we got a lot built.”

“Do I still not get to know?”

He grinned. “Nope, you don’t.”

“So mean.”

With a snort, he shifted and sat up. “You like the challenge, Natalia. You want to ferret it out on your own.”

“Or I can be patient and wait and see.”

His chuckle seemed both amusing and a little like a dare. Still, she rolled over as he rounded the bed and headed for the bathroom. “Are you back to your project today?”

While she hadn’t laid out the whole of it for Steve and James, they both had the gist of what happened and what she and Tony worked on.

“I was done with most of my part yesterday, once the AI compiles, we’ll have to test it and that can take a while,” she told him. Another twenty-four hours and then Friday would put the BABIES through a rigorous test. “I should probably wrap presents and bake today though I told them I would try to go out to the—”

A chime sounded overhead. “Duchessa?”

Yeah, she wasn’t sure about that nickname. At James’ raised brows, she shook her head and sat up in the bed. “What’s up, Friday?”

“Princess Shuri of Wakanda is on a video call for you. She is most insistent on speaking to you as soon as possible.”

Natasha slanted a look at James as he straightened even as her gut tightened. Then she slowed her breathing, consciously evening it out. Sniper breathing was the trick here. Deep, slow, even breaths. Talking the princess was just one more step on the road to getting answers.

“Tell her fifteen minutes please and where’s Peter?”

He usually came to their floor for breakfast, but she didn’t even know what time it was. James headed out of her room toward his.

“He’s still asleep, after the movies last night he stayed up talking to a girl named Liz.”

“Okay if he wakes up while we’re on the call and heads this way, alert us.”

“Understood.”

Natasha tugged off the t-shirt and dressed swiftly.

“Tell Steve and Tony, please?”

“Boss and Captain Rogers are already on their way up.”

Natasha nodded. Her right hand shook as she pulled open a drawer for socks and she paused to catch her breath and forced it to regulate again. Clenching her fist and releasing it gradually got the trembling under control.

“Coffee’s on, Natalia,” James called. “Do you want tea?”

“Coffee is fine, thank you.” Coffee would be quicker.

There was a thud of the oven and she was pretty sure that had to be more cinnamon rolls going in. Someone had stocked the tins by the dozens. She liked them, but there were other pastries in the world. Though at the moment, she didn’t care. The elevator chimed open as she left her bedroom.

Steve looked like he’d barely broken a sweat, but Tony definitely had. He pointed to her room with a question and she nodded.

It was barely seven.

Either Tony hadn’t gone to bed or he was up epically early for him. “Friday is Clint awake at the Compound?”

“Mr. Barton is up with Nate and has been for the last couple of hours. The toddler has a fever and some mild discomfort though the baby Tylenol seems to be working.”

“Please let him know we’ll fill him in on the call after, restrict the information just to him?”

“Done.”

At the eleven-minute mark, a freshly showered Tony left her bedroom in a pair of gray sweatpants she’d acquired from him and his AC/DC shirt. His smirk was adorable. She handed him a mug of coffee without comment then took a sip of hers. Steve had thrown himself through a quick shower and changed into a fresh shirt and jeans.

None of them spoke. The coffee for Steve and James was on its third and final brew. It clicked off just as the holo screen opened in the living room. Natasha schooled everything, sweeping all distractions away. It was a conversation. Nothing more.

She chose the corner of the sofa and the guys arrayed themselves with James standing behind her, Tony taking the armchair and Steve moving to stand between the sofa and armchair. The screen filled in displaying a beautiful young girl with multiple braids and a smirky-kind of smile that promised all sorts of trouble and it only grew when she zeroed in on James.

“Sergeant Barnes!” Her excitement carried as if she were standing right in front of him.

“Princess.”

She snorted. “I told you we don’t do that here, I’m Shuri.”

“And I’m Bucky,” he returned drolly.

Delight lit up her smile. “You continue to do well? No episodes? No aphasia? No regressions?”

“I’m fine, this call isn't about me.”

Amusement danced in her eyes as she glanced from James to Natasha then to Steve and Tony before back to James. “Oh, I know. But you never call, you never write, how am I supposed to do my follow-up scans if I can’t even talk to you? Hmm?” Not waiting for him to answer, she smiled at Steve. “Captain Rogers.”

“Princess,” Steve said in nearly the exact same tone as James.

Clapping her hands together, she finally glanced at Tony. “Mr. Stark. I’m a huge fan except for your suits and your maniacal murderous robots. Otherwise, I think you’re fantastic.”

“Charmed,” Tony said without any heat. “I’m sure.”

“I have that effect on people.”

“Shuri…” A dry voice said from the background as T’Challa stepped into the frame.

“Don’t you Shuri me, this is my lab. You are just a visitor and I am the ruler. Shh. I am being polite before I greet Ms. Romanoff because she is the one I will be talking to the most.”

T’Challa shook his head, his expression apologetic. “Please forgive my sister, I’m afraid she’s made herself very excited and couldn’t wait to call you, she’s been counting down the hours until she could use the excuse of the sun being up despite how early it might be there.”

“Who says they were asleep, hmm? They could have been up all night, you don’t know.” Shuri folded her arms and glared at her brother. Despite the lack of heat, it was a fierce expression.

She was a cute kid.

But she was a _kid_.

“How old is she?” Tony asked.

“You recruited a fifteen-year-old,” Natasha reminded him.

Tony made the sign of zipping his lips.

“I’m nineteen,” Shuri announced.

“No you’re not,” T’Challa scolded her.

“Shh, nineteen sounds better than eighteen.”

“Not really,” Natasha told her bluntly. “But the arguing with your brother is very inspiring.”

Shuri made a face. “Wooo…I’ll take that as a compliment from the lady who zapped him into submission. By the way, I fixed that little trick, I’ll have to make you something else that will work if you ever want to do it again, so you should be nice to me.”

That actually got a chuckle out of Tony.

Focusing on patience, Natasha took a sip of her coffee.

“Tough audience, but then you didn’t come to me for entertainment, you came to me to fix a mean white Russian.” Her smile was so hopeful as she parroted nearly word for word what T’Challa had said she would say, that Natasha let her lips curve upward.

“Not really that mean at the moment, I have my coffee.”

“Excellent,” she said clapping her hands twice. “Shoo,” she said to T’Challa. “This is confidential. Doctor and patient.”

Rather than listen to his sister, T’Challa glanced at Natasha and she spread her hands. Shuri was his sister. “I’ll trust your discretion,” she told him and he nodded.

“Fine, but he will tell Nakia because they gossip like two…”

“Shuri,” T’Challa frowned at her.

“What? Now that you stopped freezing, you can’t stop talking. It’s good for you. Maybe not so much for everyone else.” The teasing and poking at each other was at least familiar, even if she didn’t know the girl that well. Finally, Shuri focused on her and her expression sobered. “So, I have to tell you that your brain scans are some of the worst I’ve ever seen—not the quality, the actual scans.”

“That’s encouraging,” Tony muttered.

“I had hoped when my brother mentioned this to me that your issues would be similar enough to Sergeant Barnes that we could do a similar procedure. Now I am not so sure. I have spoken to Doctor Adebayo and Doctor Zadzisai, they are both specialists in neurosurgery understand neuroplasticity. The scarring on your brain is significant as I am sure your Doctor Strange explained.”

Natasha nodded once, focusing on her words not the sobriety of her manner. It seemed a little out of character for her, but Natasha had to base it on reading the concern in T’Challa’s body language.

It wasn’t good news.

The tension lacing the air climbed. Maybe these conversations would be easier if she took them alone. Not that it would diminish their worries. If anything it might make it worse. Probably better to have them stay.

“Based on his recommendations, he’s also explained that at least two different devices in addition to chemicals and likely psychological condition were used which creates something of a Jenga in how we remove the scarred tissue to let it heal. His notes indicate you have a similar serum to that of Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes?”

All-business.

Natasha nodded once.

“Good, that will be helpful. The problem will be in the pain management. Do I know how to help you exactly? No, I’m afraid it will very much be trial and error. I would like to see Mr. Stark’s device…”

“Get in line,” Tony said quietly.

“…but I think a combination of therapeutic treatments and neural reconditioning could help to break some of the psychological blocks while also working on the scarring.”

“You sound less than thrilled,” Natasha stated.

“I am very much, less than thrilled.” Shuri leaned forward, her expression intent. “The procedures we would have to do would require a level of experimentation I am not comfortable when dealing with real people.”

Ice coated her spine.

“However, we have a facility where we could reasonably place you in cryostasis as we did with Sergeant Barnes. This would minimize the stress to your body and your mind as well as give us a—safety net as we proceeded with the treatments.”

Not good news.

Yet, not unexpected.

“This is partially why I would like to see Mr. Stark’s device as you responded to it. A modification of it combined a neural net might let us reprogram…”

And Natasha was out. She held up a hand and Shuri paused. “We’re not reprograming anything. Tear it apart, make it bleed, let it heal the way it should have been. Fine… but we’re…”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, there may be no way to restore it to how it _should_ have been. The architecture of your brain has been altered. We can definitely work on stimulating the areas, but I’m assuming you’re worried about latent triggers that may be hidden behind those blocks and without treating the psychological blocks and taking advantage of the ability to recondition your neural network.” Finally, the young woman paused. “This is a difficult case. You are in a difficult position. I believe we can help you, but I also believe it will require using everything we know on all sides and being willing to take risks.”

She couldn’t be out.

“Who does the programming?”

“Based on preliminary discussions, we’d want to do a detailed mapping—far more extensive than what you’ve already done. Then we’d discuss the specific areas we’d stimulate. My understanding is you wish to reclaim some specific memories and since we don’t know exactly where those memories reside…”

“The trial and error.”

“Exactly, in that case, the stress both on you physically and mentally would be extreme.”

Natasha would survive.

“Or we can try to restore full function by doing the majority of the neural work while you are in cryostasis, but that comes with its own issues.”

“Such as?” Steve asked and Natasha glanced at him. He had his arms folded and his knuckles were white. Even Tony looked pinched and worried. She didn’t have to look back at James. None of them liked this news.

Shuri sighed. T’Challa had managed to maintain a neutral expression until Shuri looked troubled. “As when we woke Sergeant Barnes—there were functional issues, he needed sleep and supervision as his mind processed the changes. Full memory function wasn’t restored overnight, though our primary task had been to remove the triggers, we had to recondition his neural connections—the rest was his serum.”

Was her serum up to that task? If not, would infusions of Steve and Bucky’s blood do the same thing?

“I know this is a lot to process, but I believe what was done to you is reversible because of your condition.”

“It’s dangerous,” Tony said, not quite vindicated—more guarded and disappointed than anything else.

“Exactly. If you could come here and let me run my own tests, we could… perform a simpler procedure to see your responses.”

She was carefully not saying the word experiment.

Natasha could appreciate that. “How long would the tests take?” Because why not?

“That would depend on what I found,” Shuri said, her expression appraising and her tone not so flip. “I can’t tell you it will take one hour or two. I can tell you if the initial tests give us something firm, then we can follow that line of investigation. But without you—we can only speculate. Much like I can only speculate about what is it called? B.A.R.F.?”

“Not anymore,” Tony told her. “It’s S.P.A.R.K.”

“Well, that definitely sounds brighter and less stomach rolling.” Her smile asked them to not only laugh with her but also to trust her, yet there was a sobriety in those eyes Natasha preferred, playful manner aside. “Essentially, the main answer is yes, do I think we can help you? I do. But do I know exactly how? No, I don’t. Can I tell you how long it will take? No, I don’t. Only that I will give you all of my effort and I would very much like the challenge.”

It was honest.

Honest was good.

“Let’s talk downside…”

She felt more than saw Steve’s gaze settle on her.

“Because this sounds great, we poke around, figure out what works in or out of a cryotube, can’t wait, sign me up.”

“I like her,” Shuri said as an aside to T’Challa. “You are skilled at sarcasm.”

“It’s just one of the services I offer,” Natasha retorted. “What’s the downside? What’s the worst-case scenario?”

“Well the most obvious one is we damage autonomic functions to an extent your serum cannot restore it and you die,” Shuri said bluntly. “But that’s in the hands of the less capable without the precautions and the monitoring I would do.”

“And what else?”

“You like to look on the negative side of things?” the girl sounded puzzled. “It’s only going to raise your cortisol levels and create more discomfort when actually facing the tests because you have created an expectation.”

“I’m pretty good at managing expectations. I’ve even been known to reset them.”

“Then I will say that death would be the worst-case scenario that I can address directly without knowing what lies behind the blocks and whether we will be dealing with any triggers while we are there. With Sergeant Barnes, we had some understanding of how he was triggered and he was able to provide us with some context.”

The code words.

“It was merely a matter of reconditioning those words to neutral while also allowing his mind to heal. Do you know of any specific triggers?”

She debated her answer. One she knew for certain and doubted it could be replicated. Others had supposedly been removed during her first couple of years at SHIELD. “I have some ideas.”

“Then we could work with those primarily.”

“I want Doctor Strange to continue to consult,” she said and there was a long sigh from Tony’s chair. She was going. “Tony also has a couple of ideas and he’ll be accompanying us, I want him involved in the research and the applications.”

“Especially where it involves my crap tech,” he said drily.

“Not all of your tech is crap,” Shuri said with a grin. “I really like what you’re doing with your towers all over the world and turning whole areas green. The ARC reactor is excellent. If I could talk you into bringing me a couple, I’d be happy to trade for them.”

“Vibranium?” Tony asked with a raised brow.

“Let us discuss this later,” T’Challa said. “Natasha, you are welcome to bring as many or as few with you as you require. Just let me know how many will be coming so we can set up accommodations.”

“Thank you,” she said, her gaze tracking to the photos of Mary on the shelf. “I’d like a week if you don’t mind.” She wanted to go now and she never wanted to go. So, she’d split the difference.

“Of course, we don’t mind,” Shuri said. “And do you think Vision could come as well? I’m fascinated with what you’ve done with him.”

“Shuri,” T’Challa said with a sigh.

“If I don’t ask then how do they know I’d like to meet him. If I can’t, this is fine. I’ll hang out with Sergeant Barnes and persuade him into all the tests he didn’t let me run.”

The faint snort behind her didn’t dispute her words.

“One week?”

“T’Challa,” Tony said. “We need to talk about the Accords.”

“Agreed, that was my next topic after we dealt with more delicate matters. When can the two of you schedule some time?”

Tony glanced at her and frowned. “Tomorrow?”

They still had three days until Christmas.

She nodded.

“I will reach out to Friday with a time,” T’Challa said. “Let me know when you have the number of guests. Captain Rogers, I presume you remember how to reach us?”

“I do,” Steve said. “We’ll let you know when we’re on our way.”

“Until then.”

The image clicked off and Tony peeled off his glasses then rubbed at his eyes. “You’re seriously determined to take every risk for this, aren’t you?”

“I told you I was.”

“Then I want to get blood samples from all of you and see if I can do a combine.”

Steve slanted a look at him. “A combine?”

“Yeah,” Tony said as he stood and headed for the kitchen with his empty mug. “I told Red yesterday that—theoretically—it might be possible to transfuse blood from each of you to her and boost her serum that way, but it’s all theory. I need to see if I can make it work practically. If the touching thing remains an issue—this is our best way to get her healing maxed out.”

Natasha leaned forward and stared in her empty cup for a moment, then Steve covered her hand and she glanced up before releasing the cup to him. “The touching issue—maybe they can fix that in my brain while they’re at it.”

“Natalia,” James exhaled her name and she twisted to meet his tight gaze. “Don’t joke about this.”

“Who said I was joking?” She rubbed her face and stood. Not even the scent of the cinnamon rolls—which Tony rescued from the oven—was enough to lighten the mood.

With a shake of his head, Steve brushed a kiss to her mouth. “Give us a minute to process. I know you’re determined and driven and dedicated and damn stubborn. But everything I just heard was they think they can but they aren’t sure how and I’m not thrilled with risking it all on a maybe.”

“It’s better than a no way in Hell,” she told him, then followed him and James toward the kitchen. Everyone refilled their coffee mugs and she poured the icing over the cinnamon rolls.

“Shuri is very clever,” James said after a long moment. “She didn’t make any promises when I went into cryo. She told me they would do their best. They did.”

When Steve’s knuckles went white and Tony’s lips compressed, Natasha leaned against the counter and looked at them. “I’m listening. If we have better ideas, then I’m listening.”

“Time,” Tony said. “As much as you hate it. We have time, this isn’t urgent.”

“Maybe,” she said, sliding a look at Steve. “Or maybe there are more missing pieces than we know.”

The very faint pupil dilation in Steve’s and Tony’s eyes told her they’d already discussed that piece of her memory loss.

“We also don’t know if it’s that extensive, Red.” Tony faced her soberly. “Forgetting some things is expected in the elderly.”

There was a moment of dead silence. Steve and James both stared at him and she had to roll her lips tight to keep from laughing. Absolutely unrepentant, Tony peeled off one of the cinnamon rolls.

“Have you considered ginkgo biloba?”

She snickered and then laughed.

Steve’s expression relaxed but James just shook his head.

“I do have one question,” Tony continued. “Why a week? Christmas is in three days, we could leave the day after.”

“One—the kids are here with Clint. He’s going to want to go but I won’t take him from his kids. Two—we need to square the Accords or at least our plans before anything happens that takes me out of play. Three—most importantly, James and I are going to Montana.”

“That could be dangerous,” Tony said. “If you have an episode there.”

“I’ll be all right,” she said, locking gazes with James. “I’ll be with him and you two were already planning on being close.”

Steve raked a hand through his hair. “Now would be a good time for Thor to just drop in.”

“Looking for a magical Asgardian fix?”

“Wouldn’t be the craziest thing we’ve ever done,” he said in a wry tone.

“Natasha,” Friday said. “Peter has showered and changed. He’s on his way up for breakfast.”

They all looked at each other.

Peter.

Did she tell him or not?

“Stevie, get the eggs out and mix them. Tony, you’re potato KP, I’ll get the pancake batter mixed up and the bacon going.”

“What am I doing?”

The elevator chimed and James looked from her to the elevator.

She was going to talk to Peter.

“Morning!” Peter called. “Oh, cinnamon rolls. Yum.”

~~~

For the most part, the guys stayed out of the discussion as she and Peter talked. She edited some of it, particularly the gruesome parts, but it also required her to explain that at points in her career, Hydra had tampered with her mind.

“But you’re not ill,” Peter said, leaning forward in the chair hands clasped together. “Right? You’re not actually sick?”

“No, I’m not sick.”

“So, you don’t have to do this?” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“I do have to do this, beyond the memories I specifically want back—there’s a deeper concern for what might have been compromised along the way. It’s safer for everyone if we know—if I know.” She didn’t look at the photo. “What this means for you is we’re going to go over your Vulture sightings today, soon as the snow gives us a break, we’re going to run it. I’m going to work up the routines I want you to start adding to your exercise and your training. Friday and I can mock with the Legion to give you a…”

“I want to go with you,” Peter said. “You’re saying a few days after Christmas, I’ll still be on break.”

“We don’t know how long I’ll have to be there.” They didn’t know a lot yet.

“Tony’s working on stuff, too,” Peter said, looking past her to where the guys were in the kitchen. Breakfast was almost ready. “Right?”

“Yeah, Pete, I’m working on stuff. Doctor Strange is working on stuff and the Wakandans are working on stuff. It’s a work in progress, but Red’s right. We don’t know how long we could be there.”

“Or if there will be any calls while they are that will pull them out.” Which was another reality to face. “I want you to be prepared for a potential absence, and I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Peter shifted a confused gaze to her.

“Because I’m supposed to be training you and I keep getting sidelined.”

“I don’t care if I only get to work with you once a month, you’re a great teacher and I am learning.” Worry coated his gaze. “Natasha—I’ll do what you need me to do, but I want to go. I want to be there.” He shot a look toward James. “This is none of my business, but I want to help if I can.”

“Come eat,” Steve called.

“I want in on the Vulture hunt,” Tony said. “FYI.”

James eyed him. “Don’t you have enough on your plate?”

“So does she, so do you for that matter…”

Natasha frowned at the way Tony worded it.

“The point is,” Steve interjected. “We deal with it all as a team. Divide up some of the tasks, sure—you two still have to finish your project.”

Oh, why did Steve have to serve that up?

“Yeah,” Tony commented as he served up fried potatoes onto a plate and then added one of the omelets and bacon before handing it to her. “We need to finish making our B.A.B.I.E.S.”

Peter blinked, swinging his gaze between her and Tony rapidly as both Steve and James stared at him.

Setting her plate on the table, she shook her head.

“You know what,” Steve said after a minute. “You’re right. We’re in on that project too, we’ll all help make whatever that is.” With a plate full of pancakes and bacon, he came over to claim the chair next to hers as Tony pouting.

“Yes,” Bucky added as he passed a loaded plate to Peter though his gaze never left Tony. “You should have expert assistance.”

Yep, Tony had a definite pout. “Fine, but I’m handling the naming and the design, Red’s already handled most of the code.”

Peter gaped at all of them as they filled in around the table. “What just happened?”

“Yeah,” Tony said almost mournfully. “What did happen?”

Leaning over, Natasha rubbed his back. “You were enjoying it too much.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Still… Cap’s getting wise.”

“That he is. But James is still mean.”

James grinned. “That I am.”

“I’m still confused,” Peter muttered as he stabbed his fork into one of the fried potatoes.

“We’ll explain it to you when you’re older,” Steve told him in all seriousness. “I’m sure Tony even has diagrams.”

That actually was almost too much. She started snickering and then Tony laughed. Even James chuckled.

“Yeah, okay,” Peter complained even though he wore a smile. “Make fun of me.”

“Oh, we’re not making fun of you,” she promised him. “There are a lot of open projects, but between all of us, we can get them done.”

“Boss,” Friday interrupted. “We’ve got rolling brownouts in Murray Hill, East Elmhurst, Astoria, and Jackson Heights. Snow and ice may have taken down some power lines. The increased wind is also hampering repair efforts.”

“Oh the power grid,” Tony took another couple of bites. “Red, you’re on the B.A.B.I.E.S. –I could use Bucky and Steve out there. We’re going to need to boost their system at the junction boxes and get the wires back up if we can.”

Peter scrambled to get in another bite. “I can help. Four is better than three.”

There was a beat of silence and Tony flicked a look from Peter to her. “It’s fine, take him,” she told them. “I can coordinate from here and Friday and I can also check the power distribution and make sure these aren’t deliberate on their part.”

While she didn’t have Tony’s knowledge in electrical engineering she was well aware that the current energy distribution was inefficient as hell. It was a mainframe computer in an age when they needed cloud computing.

Steve threw her a grateful look. “Everyone eat. Then suit up.”

It was going to be a long day.

~~~

“Reroute the F and G circuits from the Power Junction in East Village and move it to the one in Washington Square Park. Then do a roll after each circuit completes not before. No brownouts. If we can cycle the whole island, we free up those two circuits to loan to Astoria. Then we can roll Brooklyn.”

“It will take some time,” Friday warned. “Boss is in Murray Hill now repairing the substation. It overloaded when one of the outgoing lines went down. Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes moved on to East Elmhurst to help the electrical crews trying to get to the downed lines.”

“Where’s Peter?” Natasha studied the screens.

“He’s working on repairing the line in Murray Hill,” Friday admitted.

“Do the others know where he is?”

“Boss is talking him through it. Karen’s watching power distribution and his suit’s insulated against electrical discharge. One of the first things Boss adds to all the suits.”

Made sense after Vanko. “Thanks, Friday.” They’d all departed after hurriedly eating breakfast. It wasn’t a question of if they would go. Natasha would normally volunteer, she could certainly handle herself in the snow—but they’d be distracted and focused on where she was. Of the five of them, she had arguably the least amount of raw physical strength and more; she had the capabilities to handle rewriting code to help Friday get the stations rolling. Rebalancing distribution to take pressure off the lines picking up the slack for the downed ones.

Unfortunately, even lines rated for this kind of weather didn’t always stand up to even if they were maintenanced regularly. Then again, it wasn’t uncommon for the first round of maintenance they received to be when they broke.

She was familiar with that sensation.

It had been three hours they’d been out in the weather and while the snow had begun to slow—finally—the winds hadn’t and the temperatures were dropping. James was with Steve, though. Icing conditions were not her favorite to send either of them out in. But this was the job. Actually, this was a minor part of the job that they all enjoyed. Tangibly helping people in a way that required strength, skill, and cunning without absolute battle.

At the same time, they were out there in the brutal cold and she was sitting here nursing the home fires. “Natasha… Doctor Strange is on the line. He would like to come and see you.”

“Do we have everything under control?”

“We do,” Friday concurred. “Would you like me to invite him to the Penthouse since he’s already made his way there once?”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.” She’d been working from the screens in Tony’s lab, so it was just a matter of climbing the stairs and then out through his room and down to the living room. From here, the view showed a white ice city. The forecast for the next day hadn’t looked promising.

She’d sent word to Clint and the Compound about the power issues and why they weren’t out there and she’d texted Wanda.

Empty coffee cup in hand she headed for the kitchen. Tea or coffee? She’d make hot cocoa when she knew they were on their way back. Though at the rate she’d been making it, it would likely lose the impact.

“He’s on his way, Natasha. Should I let the others know?”

“Not yet,” she told her as she started the electric kettle. “I’d rather not distract them at the moment.”

“Understood.”

The gold circle appeared in the space between the kitchen and the sofa and once again, she got a good look at the _This Old House_ he was living in with its relics and museum-quality decorations. Not to mention the interesting book collection he had going. His cloak whisked through and did a circuit of the room before floating toward her.

She eyed it as it hesitated a beat then it turned as if _it_ glanced back toward the portal just in time for Strange to stride through with a large book in his hands. He gave the cloak a look and it eased back toward her a step. With a huff and a shake of his head, Strange dismissed the portal then removed his sling ring.

The gold ring still sent a lance of alarm through her system, but it didn’t jangle her nerves the way it had done before.

“Adrenaline, cortisol and norepinephrine,” Stephen said by way of greeting. “Are you familiar with them?”

“Personally never interrogated them, but they have been known to keep me alive.” The kettle reached boiling and clicked off. “Tea?”

“Thank you,” he said with a nod. “Yes, these are the three primary hormones released when you are under stress, particularly with regard to fight or flight.”

“I’m aware.”

He set the book down on the bar separating them as she poured the hot water into two cups, each with a bag of blackberry and dark currant tea in them. “What happens when the limbic system gets hijacked?”

“Stephen,” she said as she slid the tea over and then set the sugar bowl and honey on the bar with it before she walked to Tony’s fridge to get jam. “Let’s pretend that you’re the doctor and I’m the patient, and we’re not in a classroom where the Socratic method is required.”

He hesitated a beat before the corners of his mouth curled upward. “Natasha, I do enjoy talking to you.”

“Fantastic. Talk away. Do you need milk?” He’d taken it without before, but it never hurt to ask.

“This is fine,” he said nodding to the honey.

Spooning jam into her tea, she considered him as he took a sip before continuing.

“In the average person, when the limbic system is hijacked from the frontal cortex, it takes about twenty minutes for hormone balance to be regained. In a person who suffers from persistent stress this time elongates because it may take hours before the frontal cortex reasserts authority. Persistent release of these hormones can affect short-term to long-term memory storage as well as leave the person in a state of hyperawareness that inhibits cognitive function.”

She was aware of most of this.

“High levels of cortisol can wear down the brain's ability to function properly… essentially stress can kill brain cells and even reduce the size of the brain. _Chronic_ stress can shrink the prefrontal cortex.”

“You seem very excited about this,” she commented as she took a sip of her tea.

“You have been in a high-stress environment for decades.”

“Pretty much from the beginning.” Without a shadow of a doubt.

“Exactly—can your Friday show us your brain scans?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Friday?”

“Of course, Natasha.” Apparently, Duchessa had been abandoned. She wasn’t missing it. The holo screen opened and the myriad of scans appeared.

Stephen highlighted one with a tap of his finger and then expanded it. “Your brain is not less than the normal size, if anything it’s more than a healthy size considering the amount of damaged tissue.”

“Okay.” She stared at the image, uncertain of what it was he found so compelling he had to make a special trip over.

“This tells me another reason why your brain hasn’t been healing altogether on its own.”

_Dopamine, epinephrine, oxytocin, serotonin… _were all the chemicals that created emotion. The amygdala released the chemicals. Chemicals that could lead to anger, haste, impulsiveness… She was pretty sure they were all releasing in her system at the moment, but for a host of other reasons not to mention concern.

“You think my stress has prevented my brain from healing the memory blocks?”

“No, I think you’ve mastered, through conditioning, the maximum stress conditions before you begin to suffer breaks—like your PTSD, like the fact you emotionally withdraw—some of these are learned behaviors required for your own survival but in doing so—you’ve _trained_ your brain what to heal and what not to.”

She still wasn’t seeing why this was important.

“It not a case you can’t heal, it’s a matter of redirecting your brain _to_ heal.” He looked so excited and she wasn’t getting it.

“How do you do that?”

“Well,” he said, some of his excitement diminishing. “I’m still working on that part. We have options though—in addition to stimulating those regions of your brain and surgery.”

She got it.

“Chemicals.”

He nodded slowly. “Some of the damage was introduced when they flooded your system with certain hormones. I would imagine they would have had to with the serum, if we can find a way to flood the vital hormones at the same time as we do the stimulations, there’s an increased chance for success—for example, if we dump a massive amount of oxytocin during the stimulus phase—we can trick your mind into enjoying.”

For once, she was really glad the others weren’t there. “Stephen, did you just seriously suggest you fuck my brain with an orgasm to trick it while you caused a microburst for it to heal?”

He lifted his tea mug. “It’s worth considering.”

Orgasms as pain relief.

Sure.

Why not?

It wasn’t the weirdest thing she’d heard that day.

Frankly, it wasn’t the weirdest thing she’d heard that year.

“Like I said,” Stephen told her. “This gives us options.”

“About that,” she said. “We need to talk about Wakanda…”


	27. 2 a.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's late, she's got her vodka and her thoughts. It's a mess up there.

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

_2 a.m._

Natasha

So many different kinds of touch existed. Caresses, rubs, scratches, and slaps—they were all various forms of touch. Contact between a person and themselves. You could certainly touch yourself. Contact between a person and their environment. The cold could touch. Contact between two or more people. Sensual or painful, touch existed for a reason.

The fact she still struggled with it to the point Tony wanted to do work with their blood to see if hers would react to theirs in such a way as to harvest the DNA aggravated her on a very base level. All of these people were looking for a way to help her.

Not wanting or being able to handle touch had happened before—but she’d never been in contact with so many people. Usually, she just withdrew and limited all contact until the idea didn’t nauseate her or leave her shaking in her skin. That really wasn’t an option at the moment. If anything, it was creating more problems.

Steve had been doing some reading; it was where he came up with the blanket idea. One, she was profoundly grateful for. She missed touching them, being held or even just simply cuddling. The blanket helped some, but it couldn’t replace skin on skin or the feeling of when Steve or James wrapped around her or her around them.

Hugging Peter or letting him lean on her was almost too much. Cuddling a baby demanded everything, as did hugging the kids. To be honest, she didn’t know how much of _that_ piece was the torture and how much of it was remembering Mary. Even now, she could summon the feeling of her little girl’s hands on her face, the way her cheek nestled against her breast and feel the shake of laughter and sometimes tears as she held her.

Those ghost sensations were fleeting. How long would they linger as her world reasserted itself? At the same time, she couldn’t live in a ball of isolation. It was so much easier before. Everyone kept their distance. During her training, if someone was touching her it wasn’t about comfort or care. It was pain and discipline and she had no trouble returning the same.

Later, in what few memories she’d cobbled together of James, he was one of the only ones who ever touched her in kindness. The only touch she actively sought while avoiding the rest. After she left the KGB, she limited her contact. Even Logan, who had been a tactile bastard when she met him,—now she knew why—limited it to one hug when they reconnected after an absence and one hug when they said farewell.

She could tolerate the hugs and eventually grew fond of them. Mostly because Logan could bitch about anything, even a hug. She was too skinny or late, or she smelled. He always pared it with a kind insult or just a grunt. It made it easier to accept. With Remy? He was a kid. He’d made the mistake of picking her pocket and she’d caught him.

He was lucky she hadn’t broken his wrist. Looking back, she couldn’t put her finger on what made her help him that day. Skinny, underfed, and pale, he’d stared at her defiantly. No weepy tears or pleas for mercy. And the mouth on that kid?

No, she’d bought him food, and then given him some lessons on a bump and pick. Reminding him only in thicker crowds was that effective. She let him sleep in a safe house she’d put together—and would later abandon. But she taught him. Most adults would have turned him over to child services, gotten him off the street, or something. She’d given him a safe place to sleep.

When she had to ditch that safe house, she got another one and floated him a key. She taught him skills and gave him access to resources. In some ways, she looked after him the best way she knew how at the time. She’d taught him how to look after himself. When he came to her about a contract he’d taken, a trial for the assassin’s guild, she’d been surprised.

Remy wasn’t a killer.

A thief? A braggart? A charmer? And a con man at times? Definitely.

Could he kill? Yes. But only for compelling reasons or in defense of someone else.

But she’d shrugged and took the time to show him how it was done.

He couldn’t go through with it. She took care of his contract for him, then told him to never take one again. Like _after_, she dealt with the asshole who’d tried to get him into the league—they weren’t trying to get him recruited so much as killed—Remy was competition. And _after_ she dealt with those in the league _allowing_ at worst or _encouraging_ kids to be brought into their bloody games—no one wanted to be in her bad books.

For safe measure, she dumped Remy on Logan for a couple of months and asked Logan to keep an eye on him.

He’d never really forgiven her for the babysitting gig, but he’d also taken good care of Remy. Still, she kept her distance from people. At most, they were allies and comrades in arms. If she had to let someone touch her, it was usually for work.

It remained that way—until Clint. Even with him, it had taken time. He’d started slowly in the beginning. Sitting next to her, bumping her with a leg. The sparring was fine, in as much as they didn’t spar that often. Fighting, after all, she could handle.

But with Clint was one of the first times she initiated it. He was one of the few people who could put a hand on her and she wouldn’t break their arm. Matty had earned the same privilege, but she’d always retreated from him. Compartmentalizing her life, sometimes dipping into a cover so she could feed one need while choking the weakness. When she couldn’t handle the contact, she just didn’t see him. Maria had been a little different, but they kept their professional lives professional and those personal encounters limited to absolute privacy. The infrequency let her enjoy the contact, the high, but she’d never been so deep in she couldn’t throw her clothes on and walk right back out.

Maybe that had more due to the reasons why they’d ended up in bed the first time. What did she know? A conversation to explore another day—eventually.

The only people she’d been comfortable with were Clint and his family. Later, the Avengers. But even then, it hadn’t been touchy-feely. They all kept their distances, invisible barriers keeping them all in their own lanes.

Eventually, she’d let Steve in but their early contact remained limited.

Rubbing a hand over her face, she stared down into the glass of vodka. She’d killed a whole bottle and was working her way through a second. While she’d stripped most of the liquor from the building, Friday had kept her wine and her vodka. They needed to get rid of all of it; it wasn’t fair to keep it here while Tony was doing such a good job. Still, she tossed back another mouthful and let it burn a path through her system.

After Stephen left, and while she waited for the guys to get back, she’d done her own reading about touch aversion. She’d never truly bothered to research it before or maybe she had and she’d forgotten that, too.

Yay.

Would she open all those old memories and suddenly gain a few more points in intelligence for all the random data she’d lost over the years?

The idea made her snort.

The reading though, there’d been a lot of reasons for touch aversion, but the primary ones that leapt out at her were the trauma and abuse or mental illness. Could she be clinically described as mentally ill? She could probably make an argument for it. More than once she’d been described as a psychopath. At one point, they’d even listed sociopathic tendencies in her file.

She didn’t like most people. That didn’t make her a sociopath. Most people weren’t worth the time of day. But she didn’t hate people or think they were there for her own convenience. Yes, she would cross a street to save a stranger who was on fire. She’d run into the burning building. She would and had taken bullets for people she didn’t know.

Ergo, not a sociopath.

Still, it was food for thought. Trauma and abuse? That she had in spades. Everything she researched said the same thing: talk therapy.

She’d rather have her fingernails pulled out. The guys wanted her to talk about it. Richardson back at SHIELD used to tell her she needed to vent her feelings in a constructive fashion. Apparently pummeling something or dancing until her toes bled wasn’t constructive—not that he’d ever known about the latter. Then again, Richardson was also Hydra so maybe she should just shit-can his opinions.

Sam was a big fan of talk therapy. They’d debated that a few times, particularly when he tried to come at her sideways to a group session at the VA. He’d ask her for a ride and give her the wrong time so she’d show up early. It worked all of once, after that, she just waited in the car with a book and he had fifteen minutes to get his ass out there or she’d leave him.

Later, he tried to talk to her directly, waxing poetic about the benefits. The people in that room might be strangers, he’d say, but they all share elements of your story. They’re the people who get it. It was a compelling idea, except she wasn’t a soldier and she hadn’t fought in the war most of those kids were talking about.

No, she’d fought another kind of war, Sam would insist. It was definitely a war, he’d seen her after Camp Lehigh, the fight on the highway, and later in the hospital while they waited for Steve to wake up.

PTSD.

It happened to civilians and military alike. Ignoring it didn’t make it go away. She’d given him some flip response and taken off for a couple of days. Steve had been irked when she came back because she hadn’t done more than leave him a note that said, be back and that was it.

Natasha did not want to stand up in a room full of strangers and expose her wounds. It was better to compartmentalize and move on. Wounds healed. Except, here she was, actively avoiding contact even when she wanted it and forcing herself because she wanted it. The wanting didn’t seem to matter.

Ripping open those wounds, she’d told Stephen in as clinical a detail as she could manage what happened to her so he could understand it and if there was a medical impact. To his credit, he’d listened without comment or judgment. But even the trembling in his hands didn’t prevent him from making a fist or revealing a flicker of pity in his eyes.

Compassion.

Same thing.

Laura wanted her to talk about it and that was never happening. They had shared many long conversations over the years. On more than one occasion, she’d let herself tell a story from her past. Always carefully edited to minimize how dark it had been and even those upset her. They made her hurt _for _Natasha even if it had nothing to do with her. It was bad enough that everyone else _including_ Peter had seen the recordings. She didn’t know exactly how much had been shared, but they’d gotten to see her rendered helpless and suffering, her torture used to torture them.

Talking about it would just make it worse for all of them.

Which brought her full circle to the idea, she needed to get past this but she wasn’t sure of the approach. Everything that worked in the past couldn’t be applied here. Walking away and keeping her distance, holing up for a few weeks wouldn’t make them feel better. Instead, she had to stay and witness the struggle they experienced in their desire to reach out and hers to not recoil.

Still, she pushed.

Just like she’d tried after Russia, but it had taken time. Refilling the glass, she glanced up as the elevator opened without a chime. The light sliced through the darkness. It had been hours since they returned, cold and exhausted to consume dinner and Peter had begged off planning for the Vulture. He just wanted to crash.

Steve and James had both fallen asleep relatively quickly and rather than bother them, she’d slipped out to sit down here on the common room floor they rarely used anymore.

“Hey Red,” Tony said as he strolled out a couple of mugs of coffee in hand. He was dressed in the stolen pair of sweatpants—well reacquired she supposed since she’d stolen them from him in the first place—and his AC/DC shirt. “You sitting down here in the dark for a reason?”

She glanced at the vodka and sighed. “Just thinking.”

The elevator doors closed, plunging them back into shadows. Beyond the windows, lights shone in the icy darkness. The snow fell but it wasn’t blowing sideways, so that seemed to be an improvement.

“I’ve been told that’s dangerous, especially at midnight when you’re drinking alone.”

She didn’t say anything at first, just tossed the vodka back as he made his way to the lounge. “Give me a sec and I’ll get rid of it.”

“No,” he said quietly setting the coffee cups down and taking a seat on the loveseat to her right. “You don’t have to. If you need to be drinking at midnight. Drink. It’s a little early for our usual 2 a.m. cocktails, but it’s not like we haven’t been here before.”

“I thought you went to bed,” she said, then refilled her glass. The second bottle was close to done.

“Couldn’t sleep.” The faint squint of his eyes and the pillow impression on his cheek made that a lie.

“Wanna try that again?” Even in the half-light coming through the windows, it was enough to make his sleepy expression. A fact compounded by his swallow of the very fresh and hot coffee.

“Fine, I’m asleep and I had a dream a really sexy redhead was sitting all alone and I woke up and decided to see if reality matched fantasy.”

Natasha snorted. “Friday woke you up.”

“And Friday woke me up.”

“She shouldn’t have,” Natasha said with a shake of her head.

“Pfft. How many times did JARVIS roust you to come drag my drunk ass up off the floor?”

“As you can see, my not quite drunk ass is sitting on the sofa.” She lifted the glass almost to toast him before she stopped because that would make her an ass. “You don’t need to drag me anywhere.”

“Fair enough,” he leaned back on the loveseat, coffee cradled in his hand as he put his feet up. “Then I’ll just hang out while you drink unless brooding into your vodka in the dark was really doing it for you.”

It wouldn’t matter what she answered. Tony wasn’t going anywhere.

“Besides,” he said. “It’s been a while since we sat and did this.”

“Yeah, it has.” The last time had been in Switzerland. They’d sat up late, long after everyone had gone to bed and talked about everything and nothing. She’d avoided alcohol because he hadn’t been drinking. It had been—comfortable. A familiarity they’d earned over the years in this very room.

“In the interests of not spoiling your mood, what are we brooding about?”

Nice. Lull her into talking. “Life, the universe, and everything.”

“Pretty broad topic. You might need more vodka.” Droll. Always droll.

“Maybe,” she said with a shrug. “Not sure if the answers would be any easier to swallow well-lubricated or not.”

She filled her glass again, draining the last few drops from the bottle. Tony sat forward. “You got another?”

“Tony…”

“Not asking for me, I was going to go get it for you.”

“That’s the last thing _you_ should be doing. Drinking this in front of you is the last thing _I _should be doing.”

“One, I’ll decide what I should be doing. You make the calls for you. I make the calls for me. I’m not drinking. That’s a choice. You are drinking. That is also a choice. I trust you to know when you need a drink and you trust me to know that I need to stay away from it. I’ll slip—that’s clear. You already carried me upstairs once in the last few weeks.”

“But only the once,” she told him softly.

“Well, then trust me to know what I’m talking about.” He held up a second finger. “Two, you do you. This is what you need right now, I can do this. Now, is there another damn bottle?”

She looked in the glass. Was there one? If there was, did she want it?

“Friday?”

“In the freezer, Boss. I would have removed it if Natasha didn’t finish it all.”

“Got it.” Tony took another swallow of coffee and rose. “Stay there.” The order made her twitch, but she washed it away with the half-glass she had left.

The freezer door opened and then closed. There was a clink of the bottle on the counter. Then water ran and when she twisted to glance back, she found him getting another pot of coffee started. Once he set it to brew, he carried the oversized bottle back toward her.

Unscrewing the top, he set it down next to the empty bottle and then dropped back into his seat and drained his cup of coffee before reaching for the second mug.

“Your vodka, Red.”

“Spasiba.”

“Pozhaluysta.”

The pronunciation was a little off, but she eyed him and he grinned.

“What? I can’t practice?”

“You don’t usually speak Russian.”

“I’ve grown fond of the language—and I like to know what you’re talking about especially when you curse at me.”

The answer almost mirrored the one Clint gave her a few years earlier. “I ty umnyy osel.”

He narrowed his eyes and she bit back a smile as she poured herself a full glass this time. It was still icy cold.

“Pretty sure that was an insult I haven’t learned yet.”

“It wasn’t an insult,” she murmured saluting him with her glass. “Tvoye zdorovye.”

He lifted his coffee mug toward her in acknowledgement. “That one I know though it used to be vash something.”

“Vashe zdorovye,” she confirmed. “That is more formal.”

“Tvoye is…?”

“You have earned the privilege of using my name even though you tend to call me something else and that, in and of itself, is a privilege. I think you’ve long since earned the more familiar.”

He grinned. “And osel?”

“I said, and you’re a smart ass.”

With a laugh, he toasted her with his coffee mug. “That I am.”

After a protracted silence while she finished the glass, she picked up the bottle and sighed. “You don’t need to sit here with me.”

“Well right now, you’re the hottest game in town. To find something better, I’d have to wade through the snow. I make it a point to never freeze my balls off when the alternative is right here.”

With a slow shake of her head, she said, “Tony, I meant sitting here while I’m drinking.”

“If you haven’t noticed,” he said holding up his coffee cup. “I’m drinking too. In fact, I could use a topper. Pour yourself another and stop worrying. I’m a big boy.”

Filling the glass, she stared at the way the light played off of it. Two and an eighth bottles in an hour, and she was feeling a hint of a buzz. Maybe if she slugged this down fast enough and followed it with a fourth she could achieve some numbness.

“I don’t like the idea of torturing you,” she said quietly.

“It’s not torture, Red,” he wandered back over with the insulated carafe and a larger mug that read _Today’s excellent attitude is sponsored by coffee._ “But before I sit down, let me ask you this… do you want to be alone?”

Her kneejerk response was yes. It was why she was on the common room floor level. The fact that they’d been gone most of the day and returned exhausted had left her alone for the longest portion of time since her “rescue.” Time she’d needed and when Steve and James crashed so hard and so fast, she’d made sure they were safe and then left.

“Yes,” she finally answered. “And no.”

“Well, thank you for clearing that up for me.” He set the carafe on the table then reclaimed his spot. Instead of filling the air, he just sat there sipping his coffee.

Slamming back the whole glass, she closed her eyes as it went down smooth and cold. But it was a cold fire that couldn’t quite warm her up. At the same time, she couldn’t shut off the merry go round.

“You want to talk about it?” He asked after she had another couple of glasses. Time inched forward and she almost laughed.

“That’s the problem.”

“It’s a problem you want to talk?”

“Nope.” She filled the glass and kept an eye on the time. With her metabolism, to achieve maximum effect, she needed to finish the whole thing within the next thirty to forty minutes. Then start on the fourth.

She’d probably have to pee at some point and that would interrupt the cycle, but that faint buzz was right there at her fingertips and she wanted the numbness. Even if she could only spend a few minutes there.

Did they have Asgardian ale left somewhere?

A couple of swallows of that would do it.

“Red,” Tony said. “Talk to me.”

“That’s the problem,” she repeated. “I was doing research today on this touch crap and every stupid piece of advice is talk therapy. Allow me to state that talking about my problems does not make them better and the one time I spent significant time in therapy, voluntarily, it turned out the guy was Hydra. So, I’m thinking that was about as useful as—what was that saying—tits on a bull.”

Tony snorted. “Well, just because you lucked into the one asshole right out the gate, doesn’t mean there aren’t others you can talk to.”

“Stephen listened.” She shrugged. “But he needed to know what happened for clinical reasons.”

“What happened when?”

Natasha met his gaze as she lifted the glass up and drank. “Last week primarily, but other incidences…what I can remember of the Chair or the Table of Doom.”

“See this is why you don’t get to name things, Table of Doom sounds all big and scary. Granted, it is big.”

“It’s really fucking scary when you can’t move and there’s a bone saw cutting into your skull.” She tossed back the vodka. “Huh. Guess I’m not as fearless.”

“Were you afraid or were you angry?”

“Anger doesn’t…”

“Okay, let me rephrase the question, Six,” he retorted. “Were you frustrated with your circumstances because you couldn’t move and just had to endure it?”

“I’m way too short to be Six, though for a Cylon, she was hot. I could definitely handle the red dress. As for the other, when I could string two thoughts together, I pictured gutting Pierce like a fish and handing him his own entrails.” She glanced over to find his expression pinched and tight. “This is why I don’t want to talk to you guys about this.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t I what?”

“Gut him like a fish. You let Fury shoot him.”

Irritation flamed through her and she refilled then tossed back the full glass before she said. “First, I didn’t let Fury do shit. I had a bomb strapped over my heart that if he activated would have burned a hole through my chest. I used one of my stingers to take me out of play so he didn’t escape and take me with him.”

Tony frowned.

“Second, I didn’t _remember_ what he’d done. Right now, I remember _one_ time that he did it and you can thank The Mandarin that I remember that because…” No, he didn’t need to hear that. She shook her head and picked up the bottle and just left the glass on the table. The itching inside her skin was getting louder than the pleasant buzz.

“Because…” Tony prompted. “Trust me, Red.

“Tony, it’s only going to hurt you.”

“Yeah well, like I told you earlier. I’m a big boy. I can take it. You’ve been taking enough on your own.”

She snorted. “It’s not the same—you have let every bad choice you’ve ever made the scale against how you measure your worth. You will always tilt it in favor of the bad because you made ill-informed…”

“Let’s call them what they were,” he told her, taking the time to refill his coffee. “Selfish, inconsiderate, narcissistic, and at the end of the day, indifferent.”

“You were never indifferent.”

“I beg to differ and this is one area where I know me better than you. Bombs kill people. I’m not stupid, I knew that. Missiles kill people and destroy things. There is literally nothing a missile does that is for the greater good.”

“Defense.”

“Is the argument of mutually assured destruction and ineffective as Hell,” he countered.

After a long pull from the bottle, she said, “But if there was a giant meteor coming at Earth. Missiles might be useful then.”

“If they were launched from space-based platforms and the meteor was several hundred thousands of miles away because too close and you’d be raining debris down on everything literally making the destruction worse.”

“Maybe, meteor crashed in Siberia did a lot of destruction, you could still see the scars decades later.”

“Before your time, Red, so let’s stick to the part of the century you lived through and save the science fiction battles for me.”

She flipped him off. “I had an alien encounter and actually got to see the place it went to.”

He blinked. “What?”

“When the formless took the Black Widow Express,” she said, chuckling at his description. “I saw where it went. I saw the sky on another world—it was beautiful.”

“I’ve seen deep space… it’s cold and empty.” When he’d flown the nuke through the portal. She remembered.

“Missile was good for getting rid of the Chitauri.”

“Yeah, I’ll give you a half-point for that, but it was not the plan of the World Council to end them that way. That would be me co-opting their really stupid plan and getting rid of the nuke. I didn’t know it would work.”

And he hadn’t slowed down. Not when Steve told him it might be a one-way trip. Not when he left the battle to intercept it. Not when he climbed with it straight past her. No hesitation, he’d just _done_ it. “I know.”

“You were standing right where that nuke was aimed.”

“They aimed it at the Tower, but whether I was on top of it or not, the fallout would have killed me. Probably one of the things we can both say with assurance would.”

He sighed. “We’re drifting from the point.”

“Are we?” She took a drink. “You wanted to talk.”

“No, I wanted to listen,” he said quietly. “But what do you want?”

“World peace.”

“Already working on it. Next on your list?”

She eyed the bottle. “To go undercover for a few weeks. Disappear into another life and just not be me for a while.”

The silence in the wake of her statement had texture and lapped at her like a turbulent sea. She didn’t have to look at Tony to know she’d broken off this little piece of truth and it landed like a grenade.

This was why she shouldn’t talk.

“Why?” The strain in his voice dragged at her. He coughed once, then said, “Why would you want to disappear?”

“Because it’s what I’ve always done,” she told him. “Be someone else. Become someone else. It’s not just a name on an I.D. It’s a mindset, a history, a whole wealth of experiences—and in most of them I didn’t grow up in the Red Room and become a monster who isn’t even sure what to do with happiness when she finds it.”

“You’re not a monster, Red.”

“I know what I am, Tony. I know what you and everyone else sees. But I know what I am.” It was one of the reasons she wanted to see herself the way Steve did, or any of them really, but that wasn’t her. She was just… “I do what I can to make up for it and sometimes, being the monster, pays off.” Like surviving that week. “I can survive anything.”

“You’re not a fucking monster.” Everything in his voice was low, hot, and furious.

Sliding a look at him, she raised her brows. “Really? I snap a guy’s neck and you tell me that’s not who I am? Do you have any idea of how many people I killed in there? How many I killed on that bridge? What my body count is total?”

“You want to bet I can beat it?” Tony eyed her. “My bombs killed, Red. A lot. Wholesale slaughter in some places.”

“You didn’t fire them.”

“I sure as shit didn’t stop them.”

“There’s a difference between building a weapon and firing it. There’s also a difference in being the weapon and using it to your full advantage.” He opened his mouth and she held up a finger. “We were in hostile territory. There were no friends there. He kept trying that—coming at me in different guises or faces. I don’t know if he had a photostatic veil or what. I don’t care. He pretended to be a monk. He pretended to be you or Steve or Clint—he kept trying to _ally_ himself with me. According to Helen, he pumped me full of psychotropics and he starved me when he wasn’t trying to humiliate me or almost, but not quite, kill me so he could torture the rest of you. No one there deserved to live. None of them. Leaving even one alive to come at me from the back could have let _him_ come at me.”

His hand shook, the coffee sloshing the edges. “That doesn’t make you a monster. That makes you a tactician. An experienced veteran of multiple battles.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She tipped the bottle up and took three long swallows. The buzz was right there, just—at the tips of her fingers and she wasn’t quite getting there. “All I wanted to do was try to sort this out and figure out why I can’t get past this. Why it keeps rearing its head and the funny thing is—I think I’ve always had this problem. At least from what I can remember…”

“Touching?” Caution entered his voice.

“That’s a fair question. I’m a shit-show.”

“And the answer would be?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “I think I’ve always disliked having others touch me. It wasn’t safe.”

“Because of the Red Room.”

“Yeah, people only touched you in the Red Room to beat you or fuck you or patch you up to go back and be beaten again.”

He winced.

“Now I’m getting mean, Tony so maybe we stop here.”

“I can take it.” He motioned to the vodka.

“Maybe I don’t want you to take it. Has that occurred to any of you? James can take it because he’s had as much abuse heaped on him as I have, maybe more. Does that mean he needs to endure more? Steve has been fighting since day one and he keeps trying to do the right thing, he says he can take it…”

“…he doesn’t always do the right thing.”

“I didn’t say he always did it, I said he tries which is a lot more than I’ve done, so yeah, has he screwed up? Name one of us who hasn’t.”

Tony raised his hands. “Conceded.”

“Thank you. You said you were going to lay off of him.”

“And I have,” Tony retorted drily. “If you’re going to be a mean drunk, let’s pick the topic you want to be mean on. Cap is safe from me.”

She rubbed a hand over her face. “I wish I was drunk.”

“Wow, this is you not drunk? Remind me never to piss you off.”

That got him another middle finger. “I think I want to go back to the earlier question.”

“There’s been so many.”

The bottle was nearly empty. “Did I want to be alone?”

“Ah, that question. Well, tell you what, I’ll make you a deal…”

Tilting her head, she dragged her gaze from the frozen city beyond to look at him. “And what’s the deal?”

“You can go back to that question when you answer the much earlier one.”

Much earlier one… “How is that a deal?”

“Well, call it a condition, but that sounds dictatorial. So maybe—a pre-requisite. That sounds better, right?” The amusement in his voice didn’t quite match the intensity in his eyes. She’d freaked him out.

“Not really. But which earlier question?” They’d kind of wandered.

“Why are you sitting here, brooding?”

“Because I don’t want to worry anyone. Everyone gets tense and nervous. Everyone is watching what they say or do. Everyone is cautious. Every one of you saw that torture. Even Peter…”

“Red…to be fair, no one wanted him to see it. But he wouldn’t leave. He wanted to be there for you.”

“If it only causes pain, then he didn’t need to see it.” She met his gaze. “Neither did you or Steve or James. James saw enough of my torture before…”

“Okay, maybe we didn’t _need_ to see it, though I could argue that point,” Tony said. “But I _should_ have seen it and while I’ll never be glad I saw you go through that, while at the same time, I am glad I know.”

“Why?”

“Because it was my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t…”

Tony lifted a hand. “If you’re a monster, then this was my fault. The Mandarin wanted to hurt me—he succeeded. He took you and Pepper, that was bad enough. Then he gutted you and he left Pepper with that message and disappeared with you. For three days, we heard nothing. We had nothing—if he hadn’t reached out?” He drained the coffee in his cup. “If he hadn’t sent that first video, I wouldn’t have known if you were alive or dead.”

The weight in those words lodged against her chest.

“None of us did.” Sitting forward, Tony set his empty mug on the table. “Do I have nightmares about watching you drown? Or all the air being pulled out of that room? Or the way you twitched when he kept hitting you with lightning? Yeah, I do. I’m probably going to have them for a long time, but I’d rather have them and know you’re alive and you’re here and that because of his arrogance in sending them… we figured it out. We found you.”

The silence stretched thin.

“If he hadn’t sent them Red—you’d just be gone. One minute you would have been there and the next gone. I don’t want that world, I don’t want a world where you’re not in it. Where—you were dancing with me and an hour later—you’re a mystery. I get that you don’t want us to have seen it because you want to somehow protect us from what you suffered…”

“I don’t want any of you to suffer. It’s my job to protect you.” _Protect Tony Stark_. “To protect all of you.”

“Well, it’s my job to protect you and the rest of this team. It’s Steve’s job to protect you and the team. It’s Bucky’s job to protect you, I don’t think he gives a shit about the rest of the team.”

“He does, too.”

“Maybe now…but in the beginning? No. He cared about one thing, one person—you. Even Steve, who burned the world down, came in second to you.” The bitterness creeping into his voice was a distant echo to what it had been. “The damn thing is—Pete used to be my biggest fan and now I’m in second place to you. There are worst places to be, Red. You want to protect all of us? Well, guess what? We all want to protect you. There wasn’t a single person in that room who didn’t want to have been there or taken your place—you’re a fucking hero Red. You got dragged into Hell because that bastard wanted to make me pay for fixing his stupid missile system and making it a thousand times better. So he took you to Hell and you battled him every step of the way and here you are standing and he’s _dead_.”

“Because all of you came for me.” That still surprised her and it shouldn’t. Of course, they did, she would have gone for any one of them who’d been taken. At the same time…

“Damn right,” Tony said as he stood. “You need another bottle?”

She eyed the one in her hand. It was almost empty and the creeping numbness she’d been looking for wasn’t there yet. It seemed just out of reach. “No,” she whispered, then drained the last dregs of it. When she went to place it on the table, he took it from her hand and the other one. He disappeared with them into the kitchen.

Rising, she tested her feet. Yeah, she could still feel them and her legs. Padding around the table, she walked over to the windows and stared out until her eyes blurred.

“Red… do you really want to go?”

“No,” she said after a long moment. “It used to be I disappeared into those people, mostly because I didn’t have a life. Now I have one.”

He let out a breath. “That’s a good thing.”

“Most days,” she said, folding her arms. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Fix what?”

“Fix me. I want to be able to touch, I miss it and then…it makes everything inside me start to itch and burn. I look for ways out or ways to break the hold. It’s not quite as bad assessing every way I can kill the person touching me—but there are 206 bones in the body and I know how to break all of them. It’s—”

He was behind her, but not too close. She could make out his reflection in the glass, just barely. The weight of his gaze rested on her. “It’s?”

Closing her eyes, she said, “Did you see the one with the darts and the injection?”

“Tubocurarine, quinuclidinyl benzilate, and Soviet code substance 78—really shitty name by the way?”

“You get an A for recall, Mr. Stark, go to the head of the class.”

“Never left it. The quantities he gave you paralyzed your muscles and depressed your respiratory system. It would have been like drowning to suck in a breath of air. The second shot would have made you want to move badly, a form of torture as your body didn’t obey you, then locked inside that Hell, he lit a new circle with the last injection. It amplified your pain receptors to an unnatural level of sensitivity.”

_Natasha fought against the climbing sensation of razor wire binding her from head to toe and managed to get her middle finger up._

_“It pleases me that you are so resilient, Widow.”_

_Movement in the room and she couldn’t move. Hands picked her up and set her on the bed, then the chain was secure. She could see them moving from the corner of her eyes, but they’d laid her on her stomach. Then there was a needle piercing her right shoulder._

_“Quinuclidinyl benzilate, produces akathisia, an intense desire to move. You might know it as Soviet code substance 78.” It pumped into her arm like ice being injected into her veins._

_Blue liquid. IV strung down and around her wrist. Liquid ice pumping into her veins._

_“It also amplifies pain receptors, so that even pinprick will feel like you're being stabbed. It also causes hallucinations and a loss of mental and physical control.” Curiosity populated his voice. “I am told it’s very potent. We have tripled the dose for you. To make sure you experience…”_

_Fingers stroked over her face and her skin lit up like he’d poured acid over her. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t even see him. He was on the other side of her. Only the shadow of his hand. Then he ran it down her back and a scream choked in her throat as a river of fire flayed her skin._

_“As pain mounts, so does blood pressure, respiration, and pulse…”_

_Hot pokers drilled into her, then raked down her back and across her legs. She’d been flayed before. The sting of the whip. The strike of a cane. The repeated hits._

_You can’t resist torture if you don’t know what to expect._

_Pain could be compartmentalized. Even if the walls shuddered and collapsed as fast as she could erect them. Another prick in her side and she was being stabbed all over again._

“He kept touching me.” The images replayed in her mind. “He kept touching me until I blacked out from it. It was like he flayed me alive and dumped acid in the wounds—then he did it again.” She didn’t see the snow or the ice. “That’s the part you couldn’t see in the video—I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I wanted to. I wanted to rip his throat out and I couldn’t think for the pain shredding my thoughts—then old tortures came swirling to the surface, bad ones—and then I remembered my daughter being born.”

“Forty-five minutes,” Tony said quietly, the roughness in his voice castigating her. “That’s how long his little sessions lasted. God, I hope you blacked out early on.”

So he didn’t know either. “You couldn’t see my face?”

He shook his head. “I knew it had to be bad…”

“It’s worse because it was him,” the words spilled out and it hurt to say it. Confessing that weakness. “I couldn’t beat him. Every time I got close, he used those damn rings…”

“You beat him, Red. You’re here. He’s not. You won.”

“Then why doesn’t it feel like I won?”

“Because you’re still healing,” he exhaled the words. “Red… c’mere.”

She turned and he held up a blanket. “Tony.”

“Yeah, seriously, just come here. You need a hug and God knows I need to give you one. Then I need to talk to you about a couple of things.”

“I don’t—”

“Red this isn’t about us, it’s about me. Now c’mere or so help me, I’m going to go over there and wrap you up like a burrito and hopefully do it before you kick my ass.”

The corner of her mouth twitched upward.

“Yeah, see, that’s how I know you’re not a monster.”

She frowned.

“You are the most dangerous person I’ve ever been around. You can kill someone with a sock and your pinky.”

“I don’t need the sock.”

“My point,” he continued with a snap as if chiding her for interrupting and he shook the blanket once. With a sigh, she walked back toward the sofa. “My point,” he continued. “You are the most dangerous person I know and yet you gentle the world around you. You slow yourself down, you make things easier, and you’re always smoothing the way. Those are just some of your qualities.”

With care, he stretched an arm out and then reached around her as careful as if he were handling a live bomb and stretched the blanket before pulling it around her and then cradling her in it while he gripped the edges, still facing her. The blanket pressed against her arms and back, a hug without being a hug.

“After I threw you to the wolves,” he said and when she opened her mouth he gave the blanket a little shake. “No comments. This is the part where I’m talking.”

She narrowed her eyes and he just glared right back. Fine, she made a show of closing her mouth.

“After I threw you to the wolves, accused you of being a double agent, and basically told you Ross was coming for you—I had no reason to expect a warm reception when I found you. In fact, I was pretty sure you were just as likely to punch me in the face or the dick. In my case, likely both, if you even bothered to speak to me. All of this contingent upon whether I could find you or not.”

But he had found her. He and Steve both—

“Clint knew where you were going,” Tony told her. “He guessed and we made it there ahead of you. When we burst into the apartment and you pointed that gun at us—you could have shot me right then and there. You didn’t. You could have gone out a window when you went to shower. You didn’t. You could have broken my arm for touching your bites. You didn’t.”

She’d thought about the last one.

“You didn’t. You listened to us. Put up with us being idiots. You _listened_ to me. You didn’t necessarily like what we had to say, but you listened and when we all bullied our ways into sticking with you—you _let_ us.”

With care, he pulled the blanket tighter and then tugged her forward.

“Need your help for this part,” he continued. “Collarbone is mostly fused but I have it on good authority that if I break it again a certain redhead is going to kick my ass.”

Curiosity flickered through her. “The cradle?”

“Guilty, I didn’t have time to wait for it. Helen managed to fit me in,” he paused on the last. “The princess is right, you’re a tough audience.”

Natasha shook her head. When had he fit it in the last week? He’d been skipping wearing his sling constantly, but she’d not been paying as close attention. What else had she…

“Yeah and knock that right the hell off. We’ve all kept it as quiet and even as we could around here and done our level best to manage ourselves—just asked what would Red do and then did it.”

She laughed. “You did not.”

“Fight me,” he said bluntly. “Yes, we did. Cap played the role of you last week, he and Bucky both. They’ve both done it this week, making sure I got a few hours and didn’t work all night. Trust me, as soon as you’re ready to take over the job of being my keeper again, I’d appreciate it. You’re much easier on the eyes.”

“You’re just saying that,” she managed and his smile grew.

“Maybe. You’ll just have to get back to smacking me into shape again. Until then, c’mere.”

He settled in the corner of the sectional and stretched one leg out. She sank down next to him, careful of the blanket and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back. It took a little adjusting but she was curled on her side and he used one of the smaller cushions to tuck under her head.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. It was good.

“Good. Now…” Tony rubbed her back gently, the blanket muted the feeling. It did what she’d been trying to do with the vodka. “A few years ago, I took the jet to Afghanistan—right into unstable and insecure territory to show off my new missiles. They were effective as hell and had the devastating ability to shred whatever they hit—and pretty much anything in the surrounding area. The yield was—well let’s just say it was a ridiculous amount that _never_ needed to work.”

He squeezed a little tighter.

“I was a smug, self-involved little prick that wanted to strut my sixty-eight hours of work for everyone to see and congratulate me on how awesome I was. After all, this was the U.S. military; I was providing them with an awesome munition that would help them fight war more effectively. I was a goddamn American hero.”

The self-loathing in that one statement choked the air.

“I did it—made one Hell of a statement and a _lot_ of money in multi-million dollar contracts for missiles all ready to be delivered. That was one thing Obie always kept on track, the trains got there on time. He had hundreds of those damn things ready to go.” Tony licked his lips, his eyes going a lot more distant. “But the thing no one knew… the Jericho wasn’t my idea originally. It was a schematic, a plan, a promise from a company rapidly sinking. I couldn’t even tell you where I stumbled over it. Maybe a tech article? I mean there are conventions, maybe I heard it at one of those.”

She eased a hand out and rested against his chest. His heart raced, but at her contact, he sucked in a breath and then jerked his gaze down to her.

“Bad Red, hand back in the blanket.”

A smirk touched her lips. “You’re getting upset.”

“And I’m holding you, like my personal woobie, hand back in the blanket.” When he continued to scowl, she sighed and tucked her hand back inside the blanket.

“Better,” he said, squeezing her upper arm through the blanket before resuming his slow, petting strokes. “The point is, I found it in some material and the company trying to make it work had sunk millions in R&D and couldn’t get to do what they promised. They were about to go under at the rate they were going. I needed a palate cleanser between projects. I tinkered with the design, then looked at what they wanted it to do, dialed it up to an eleven and on Monday morning, delivered the Jericho.”

Tony’s breathing had gone a little ragged, then he took a deep breath. One after another.

“The Mandarin—owned that company. The Jericho was his.”

They’d touched on some of this, but not to this extent.

“The men who took me in Afghanistan…”

“Ten Rings,” Natasha said. “Ten Rings was his.”

“Ironic? Poetic?”

“Tragic,” she told him.

“But that’s the thing, Red—they blew up my convoy, killed all those kids to get at me and damn near killed me in the process. They did it because Obadiah paid them, but they also did it because he wanted me to build those rockets for him.” He lifted his free hand to rub at his eyes. “Three months in that cave, built my first miniaturized ARC reactor and the Mark I all while they waited for me to build them a rocket I had zero intentions of building. My main goal, get the hell out of there, but after—once I did—I was still there. I was still in that cave and when I got back to the States, I missed all the warning signs. I didn’t even see what Obie was doing. So no, you don’t get to beat yourself up about not noticing my collarbone. I took care of it. You’re doing a lot better than I was at the time…”

“I really wish I hadn’t failed that mission.”

“You know—if this amazingly sexy redhead had saved my life and then disappeared it would have been a duel tragedy anyway.”

She frowned.

He eyed her. “No Iron Man and no Red. I’ll take my three months in a cave.”

That was… insane and so damn Tony.

“Besides, look where we are now.”

Sighing, she closed her eyes and tucked her head under his chin. “I still wish I could have saved you.”

“You did save me, just a little later on and with your own style and panache.”

A chuckle slipped through her.

“Red, I have no idea how we fix all of this. We’ve all got ideas, we’re all working on it. You. Me. The teenage Wakandan wonderkind who hates my suits… Steve, Bucky, Clint, Helen, Strange, everyone. Somewhere in this mess may not be one solution that fixes all of it, but maybe a little something from all of us that helps you find what you’re looking for.”

“So, suck it up?” Because that was what it sounded like.

“Yep,” he said. “When you can’t do that, I’m always available for the 2 a.m. consult over vodka and coffee.”

She made a face.

“Besides,” he said, rubbing slow circles against her back. “I’ve kind of missed this and it’s almost poetic, I get to be the sober and reasonable one and you’re the slightly off-center cynic.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Absolutely not, _I_ am the hot mess in this relationship.”

It wasn’t funny.

Well, okay, it shouldn’t be funny.

“So, since we’re both on the sofa… would you like me to describe how I began my lifelong relationship with coffee? It’s deep.”

His heart wasn’t racing anymore. It was hard to count the pulse through the muffle of the blanket, but she could feel it just below her shoulder.

“Or, I know, how I turned my need for affection and acceptance into designing first robots—Dum-E to be precise—and AIs to fill the void of paternal acceptance?” A smile echoed in his voice. “I’ve been the textbook wet dream for so many psychologists… wait… I know…”

He shifted a little beneath her and stretched out his other leg on the sofa so she was settled between them and curled against his chest. Between the blanket, the pillow and the soothing rhythm of his heart, she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open.

“A famous man once said, we create our own demons. Who said that?” There was almost a vocal shrug. “What does that even mean? Doesn’t matter, I said it ‘cause he said it. So, now he was famous and that’s basically getting said by two well-known guys.”

She could have sworn he nearly snickered the last, but she tried to focus on the story.

“I’m going to start again. Let’s track this back to the beginning… it was New Year’s Eve 1999 and I was in Bern, Switzerland and I was such a cocky little prick…”

She faded out somewhere around Happy’s inability to figure out how a StarkPad worked correctly when trying to show Tony who was in Pepper’s office. Though she could have sworn Tony mentioned crashing into Tennessee, so maybe it was later. But she knew parts of this story, she knew what happened and instead of focusing on the content, she floated. Maybe talking about it helped.

Maybe it was the listening.

Could have been the vodka.

Or maybe the fact that was closing in on four in the morning and she hadn’t slept finally caught up to her. But she stopped fighting and just let go.


	28. Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning arrives too early

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

_Wolves_

Tony

Even after her breathing evened out, he continued and he took his time with it, speculating about some of the things that went wrong along the way. His favorite parts were the weapons he made out of pretty much scrap. Not that she was awake to be impressed by it. Losing Pepper then having Pepper save him had been a turning point, but even looking back on it now as he told her the story—he could see all the flaws, all the places he’d glossed over and just kind of expected her to ignore.

Still, solving Extremis had been a mark in his good books and he’d finally surrendered the ARC reactor in his chest and got the shrapnel removed. After destroying all his suits, he’d been ready to settle and step back from the fight. To look at what building a life without Iron Man would be like. Not that it ever had a hope in hell of lasting. Not after Afghanistan. Not after Vanko. Not after Killian. Sure as hell not after D.C.

Ultimately, it wasn’t the life he wanted. He wasn’t just Tony anymore. That was okay. He told Pepper when he came back from Afghanistan there was only the mission. It had been startling clear then. After the last few years, he could honestly say he hadn’t been clearer—the mission was the Avengers as much as it was protecting the world and making it better.

Because the Avengers could do that.

He glanced down at Natasha, her expression so peaceful and relaxed. If he rested his hand over her back, the slow, regular beat of her heart steadied him. This was exactly where he was needed. If he paid Friday, she would deserve a raise. When she woke him, she’d only said Natasha had been sitting down here for over an hour, not moving or doing anything but drinking.

Bad sign.

The coffee he’d made had been in self-defense. Drinking with Natasha was old hat, but he’d wanted something to do with his hands. When he finally finished the story, he sighed. He’d lay here for as long as she’d sleep. The shadows roiling in her eyes—he hadn’t seen those in a while. Not like that. She usually hid them much more carefully.

Then again…

_“He kept touching me. He kept touching me until I blacked out from it. It was like he flayed me alive and dumped acid in the wounds—then he did it again.” _

That right there was why she didn’t want to be touched. It probably linked to a whole host of other issues and her past in the Hell Room, but between playing games with her head, starving her, and torturing her, The Mandarin had actively used casual gentle touch against her.

Fucking bastard.

No wonder she could barely tolerate it. The blanket clearly helped but it was keeping his skin off hers. Gloves might work.

_“Yeah, people only touched you in the Red Room to beat you or fuck you or patch you up to go back and be beaten again.”_

Closing his eyes, he tried not to picture her face when she said that. The absolute resignation there. It hadn’t even been hostile despite the fact she called herself mean. She stated it in the same tones he’d use to say elevators went up and down. A cold, empty fact.

_“It’s really fucking scary when you can’t move and there’s a bone saw cutting into your skull.”_

If he didn’t need to know how the damn thing worked so he could provide the data to help figure out a solution to what they _did_ to her, he’d have gone down to the lab it occupied and blasted the damn device into pieces. He’d yet to hear from Maria—an oversight he would correct later that day. There was another one out there? He just wanted to know where.

He’d hunt down every single one of those tables and chairs and medieval mental butchering devices and he wouldn’t stop until they were gone.

_ ”Why would you want to disappear?”_

_“Because it’s what I’ve always done,” she told him. “Be someone else. Become someone else. It’s not just a name on an I.D. It’s a mindset, a history, a whole wealth of experiences—and in most of them I didn’t grow up in the Red Room and become a monster who isn’t even sure what to do with happiness when she finds it.”_

Suddenly, in those few sentences something crystalized for him. How she survived all these years, how she survived walking forward through time as those around her died off or were killed off or God help him, fucking erased. It was how she survived losing her child, her lover, her world—over and fucking over.

She just became someone else.

Maybe for a little while. Maybe for a long time. When she went to SHIELD she abandoned Natalia Romanova and became Natasha Romanoff and built a life for herself. One haunted by treachery and betrayal, but a life nonetheless.

Then that had all blown up on her, too.

He lifted a hand to scrub over his face. After everything that went down in D.C. she’d disappeared and had been in the wind. Tony hadn’t even been able to find her. He should have been there that day she testified in front of Congress. What had Steve said? She burned all her covers; she had to go figure another one out.

Here they were a couple of years later and the Avengers had detonated beneath her feet. They were getting them back together, this was good, but—she had no escape hatches. She had to fight through this without the coping mechanisms she had relied on for decades. Not only that, she was helping all of them navigate the choppy waters, smoothing the way for them and helping to blunt the harsh edges. The one thing she’d asked them for over and over—stop fighting.

And she called herself a monster.

It pissed him off.

A shadow detached itself and it took everything Tony had not to flinch. Bucky moved into his direct line of sight, his expression unreadable.

Oh, this could go badly.

On near silent feet, the other man circled the coffee table and then sat on the edge of it. Outside it remained dark and cold, though dawn approached. It was almost seven.

“How long have you been there?” Tony asked, aware of the caution in his own voice. His heart slammed against his ribs and the adrenaline spiking through him effectively chased away even the hint of exhaustion. Maybe he should have expected it, but it still startled him.

“A while,” Bucky said quietly, his gaze on Natasha and not Tony. “Somewhere around the missile defense argument.” With care, he reached over and smoothed some of the hair away from her face.

“So you heard?”

“Your argument about whether you could just be Tony Stark and not Iron Man?” A faint smile touched his mouth. “No, I missed that part.” He frowned. “But I heard what she said about him touching her and the rest.”

Tony sighed. “We knew he’d inflicted pain.” They’d watched it. Every, agonizing moment, even if she hadn’t been allowed to react and had to endure it in silence.

“I wish I could kill him again.”

“Oh,” Tony exhaled. “Yeah.”

“You should sleep,” Bucky told him with a glance over him. “You look as exhausted as she does.”

“Yeah well, if I move, it might wake her up. It took a while to get her here.”

“I didn’t say move her,” Bucky told him as he rose and moved over to drop onto the loveseat Tony had abandoned earlier. He wore sweatpants and a tank top, but his feet were bare.

That was weird. The Winter Soldier with bare feet was just—odd.

“I’ll keep watch.”

With a sigh, Tony leaned his head back. “I don’t know that I can sleep.”

“It’s a discipline,” Bucky explained. “Rest is a requirement or cognitive function can be compromised. When your mind won’t cooperate, reset the expectations your brain has.”

“Well if it was that easy, Red would have already solved all her own issues.”

“I didn’t say it was easy,” Bucky continued. “I said you have to reset the expectations. That can take time. Especially in the slow, dark hours of the night, when the wolves are at the door.”

“Not really helping,” Tony said, eyeing him.

The other man shrugged. “The wolves are always at the door.”

Yeah, unfortunately, they were. Whether it was the press, their enemies, their past, or some other disaster waiting to happen.

“Worrying doesn’t make it happen or go away faster. It only wastes time and resources.”

“Says the man up in the middle of the night because he’s worried about his girlfriend.”

“She is far more than just my girlfriend,” Bucky said, his gaze not on them but on the windows now. Like Natasha earlier, he stared out at the icy darkness and the lights they could make out from the buildings around them. Flecks of snow coated the windows, frozen there. A gift from the storm pounding the city.

“Life partner then.” He wouldn’t call her his wife, they weren’t married. Frankly, he had no idea how or if that was ever going to be the case. Not that it made her commitment any less. “Regardless, you came looking because you were worried.”

“Concerned, I gave her time when I first woke,” Bucky admitted. “She doesn’t want us hovering.”

But after a while… “You could have asked Friday.”

“I did. Then I came down the stairs.”

That was why they hadn’t heard him arrive and Friday hadn’t alerted him, why? She didn’t perceive a threat? To be fair, despite startling him, at the moment, Tony didn’t perceive a threat either and he was the one cuddling with Natasha on the sofa.

“I didn’t intend to spy on her or you,” Bucky admitted. “But she was talking about what happened.”

Something she’d been refusing to do.

“She’ll do that, compartmentalize the torture and the pain. We both did. There was nothing to be done for it but to endure.” The resignation in his words reminded Tony of all the reasons he hated the place she’d come from and that had held the pair of them prisoner for so long.

Cages were crafted out of more than iron bars.

“Not a fan of that technique.”

The other man shrugged. “Go to sleep, Tony. Like I said, I’ll keep watch. Nothing will bother either of you.”

“If you’re going to be awake, you can do some work on your classes. Log some more hours reading and getting caught up.” The guy deserved a break. Seriously.

“I could.”

“I can doze and answer questions if you run into anything.” Tony was really not in the mood to sleep. If he fell into a nightmare, he ran the risk of jerking awake and startling her. It wouldn’t be pretty.

“I’ll make coffee,” Bucky said as he rose.

“Okay,” Tony nodded and then closed his eyes after the other man headed into the kitchen. The quiet sounds of water running and getting the coffeemaker set up drifted out. In the half-silence, the hush of her breathing relaxed him. Yeah, he could lie here and let her sleep while he helped Bucky get up to speed on engineering.

Something else to focus on. That’s exactly what he could do.

What he needed to do.

~~~

A hand squeezing his shoulder yanked him awake. Eyes wide, Tony met Steve’s concerned gaze. “We’ve got a problem,” he said quietly. “I’m going to lift Nat. I need you to let her go.”

Loosening his grip, Tony let his leg slide off the edge. Steve eased an arm between them and then had another under her legs and he lifted her up and off. He didn’t go far, carrying her to the other end of the sofa as Tony sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face.

God, he had a headache. There was light outside, but it was gray, muted light. The kind that promised more snow.

Fuck, it needed to knock it off.

Swinging his legs off the sofa, he sat upright, still rubbing his eyes. When they cleared, he saw the coffee waiting for him. Bucky nodded to the kitchen and Tony gulped down about half of it as he stood.

God, it could probably clean the pipes on the drain it was so strong.

Just what the doctor ordered.

The kitchen was off of the main room, but around the corner enough to give them an element of privacy. There was a holo screen open with Bucky’s reading up and a cup of coffee sitting next to his chair.

“Boss,” Friday said in a quiet tone as soon as he entered. “We have an unexpected complication.”

“I thought we had a problem.” Maybe the problem had been he was holding Natasha, but his brain hadn’t quite hit all cylinders yet. He downed more coffee.

“Christine Everhart,” Friday began.

Tony made a face and finished the coffee before grabbing the carafe and refilling his cup. Anything that began with that woman’s name could not be good. Well—that one night had been fun—but no, she was generally just a pain in his ass.

“What about her?”

“She has an appointment with you and Natasha in about ninety minutes.”

Tony frowned. “Since when?” Bleariness drained away as he glared at one of Friday's cameras. “It's two days before Christmas.”

“I know, Boss. But the appointment was set during the initial push for Accords. We had meetings with the various delegates, then dinners and conferences. This week, in and around the holiday, you scheduled three big interviews.”

What the hell had he been thinking? “You're positive _I _scheduled them?”

“Yes, Boss, you scheduled them through Ms. Potts’ office and it was handled by an assistant who then forwarded the requests to the public relations department and Mr. Kumar who was helping out during Ms. Potts’ recovery confirmed these interviews.”

Tony was going to kill him.

Bucky glanced at him from across the bar. “You could cancel it.”

“You don't cancel Christine Everhart, that is the kind of publicity we don't want.” But he could kill Kumar. Talk about wolves at the gate.

“Baby Girl, find that prick who set the appointment.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Tony,” Natasha's tired voice wrapped around him. “Don't.”

“He had no business...”

“I get that,” she said, raising her hand. Her cheek had linen lines imprinted on it and one half of her hair had smooshed where she'd been curled up against him. “I really do. This is not the kind of news I wanted to wake up to, however, Kumar is with Pepper and she has asked for privacy, you call in this mood--it's just going to go bad.”

Aggravation raked over every nerve. He'd _never _have agreed to a sit down with Everhart. A video interview? Fine. But spend time with her in the same room _and_ subject Natasha to her? “Fine, will we’ll kill him later.”

“Why don't we revisit that after another gallon of coffee and a shower. That's pretty much what I'm planning to do.”

“Red, you're exhausted and you had a long night. Just—sit it out and I'll deal with it.”

“No,” she told him and turned. Steve was standing a couple of steps behind her.

“You both need to eat,” Bucky said. “So go shower, then meet on our floor. I'm assuming the interview will be in the penthouse?”

Just like that, they were agreeing to Red being present for the interview.

“Red...”

“I'll see you in fifteen, Tony.” She put a hand on his arm and he froze as she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime,” he managed but she was already walking away, Bucky right behind her and the sound of elevator announced their exit leaving him with Steve. “Well, shit...”

“Pretty much my thought when Friday told us, but you can handle it. We'll be there, give her an hour, get her in and get her out.”

“You think you can talk Red out of this?”

“No,” Steve said slowly. “The appointment was set for both of you and her profile is on the rise, Friday pointed out she's had a front page story, granted a couple below the fold, and at least one news item about her every night for the last week and we're not doing anything. This was part of why you wanted Natasha involved and I agreed with you then.”

“Changing your mind now?” Because Tony was. He'd been an ass to subject her to this. She would all be better off if he could let her take a step back. The publicity, the public fondness, it could help in their quest to exonerate her on all fronts, but still…

“I would like to say yes, to be able to keep shielding her, but she wants the Accords at least back on track before she heads to Wakanda. This is another step and it puts her in front of the story again which could create more positive buzz. That's what you both wanted, to have leverage with public opinion.”

Leaning his head back, Tony stared at the ceiling. “Friday... sixty minutes from when Everhart sits down, if she isn't already on the way out, call an Assemble here in the Tower.”

Steve chuckled. “A little extreme don't you think?”

“Have you actually met Christine Everhart?”

He shook his head slowly.

“Tell me how extreme it is after,” Tony clapped him on the shoulder and headed for the elevator.

“Tony,” Steve said when Tony was a half a step from freedom.

So close.

“About last night...”

Bracing himself, Tony turned. “I thought about having Friday wake you. I did. But I came down to see what was up with her first. Not our first rodeo for midnight drinks and she was--rough. I took the time with her and then we started talking. I should have probably woken you both up.”

“I was going to say thank you,” Steve said. “I would have liked to have known she needed something, but you were there. You helped her. So thank you.”

“Cap... she's just...”

“Protecting me. Protecting Buck. Protecting you.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, scratching at his jaw. He needed to shave, too. “She's annoying that way.”

With a chuckle, Steve nodded. “Go shower. Then come down and eat. We'll make more coffee.”

“For what it's worth, she didn't come looking for me, Cap. I found her.”

“I'm not mad.”

That more than anything surprised him. They’d—they’d made inroads. Steve had been an anchor during Natasha’s kidnapping. He’d kept Tony moving and they’d talked more. They were almost friends.

Arms folded, Steve shrugged. “Am I fond of finding her sleeping in your arms?” He made a face. “Not really, but this isn't the first time you've been there when she needed you. But next time?”

“Yeah, I'll give you guys a heads up if I think you two are who she needs.” Fair was fair, but in the middle of the night, she'd come down here to be alone. “We should talk later.” Now that he had caffeinated a couple of brain cells…

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The three of us and maybe Clint. Something she said last night clicked with me. We should talk.”

Steve studied him for a long moment, and then he nodded. “Later.”

“Definitely.”

The doors closed and the elevator rose to the penthouse floor. “Friday, when did we get confirmation on the meeting?”

“Last week, Boss, on Monday.”

A week earlier. The day after they got Natasha home.

“Go through my schedule with a fine tooth-comb, I want a review of any appointments that were set by Mr. Kumar and the PR department.”

“On it.”

“And Friday? Check Red's schedule, too.”

“I'll take care of it, Boss.”

~~~

By the time he’d showered and shaved, Friday informed him breakfast had come up to him along with Natasha and the guys. Peter was also on his way up. Tony considered his closet. If this weren’t about image, he’d just go with jeans and a t-shirt. He had work to do today. Like gutting that damn table. He’d hijack Bucky if he had five minutes. Looping him in would probably be good for all of them.

If it were too much, Tony would just take care of it.

“Tell Pete he needs to scram before Everhart gets up here and I want security to give them a thorough search before she comes up. Is she bringing a cameraman?”

He missed the days of Everhart working for print news. She should never have moved to the broadcast networks. Then again, she was sharp, savvy, and a damn bulldog when it came to sinking her teeth into a story.

They’d have been fools not to hire her.

“She has a cameraman, Boss, I requested all details last week and I’ve run a full background. He checks out. But I’ll scan them again on the way up. I’ll also be scanning for active listening devices and following all standard protocols.”

“Thank you, Baby Girl.”

“We’ll protect her, Boss. We’ll protect all of them.”

Yes, they would.

Tie in place but not knotted yet, he strode out of his room and down the stairs fixing his cufflinks into place. They were activated with his watch and the rest of his nano armor. The ARC reactor was prominently in place in the middle of his chest. Statement or no statement, he was not taking chances with her.

Give him a couple of years of shit not going sideways and he’d think about dialing it down. Even before he hit the stairs, he caught the competing scents of bacon, pancakes, coffee, and what the hell? Brownies?

“Why are we cooking brownies at…” He peered at his watch. “Just after eight in the morning?” Pete was carrying several presents, the whole stack balanced, from the elevator over to the tree, which had more presents under it than had been there when he went up to shower.

Considering it had precisely three beforehand, it was kind of obvious.

The sofa had been shifted, the fire was on, and blankets with holiday themes were laid over the back.

Had he just walked into some holiday horror movie?

“Come eat,” Steve told him. “Natasha suggested we set the stage for the interview and she has a point.”

Oh, she always had a _point_. “We’re not trying to make Christine feel more welcome,” Tony argued.

“It’s not about welcoming,” Natasha said as he reached the bar. He blinked at her. She was dressed in a green cashmere turtleneck sweater that made her eyes pop, black dress pants and wore a pair of booted slippers. The cosmetics were faint, but she’d done things to emphasize her features and disguise the signs of a long night. Though her hair was dry, she’d washed and styled it. She had on her bracelet, but the dog tags weren’t visible. He’d bet she had them on under the sweater just out of probing Christine’s eyesight.

He checked his watch. “Have I walked into the _Twilight Zone?_”

“If you have, we couldn’t really tell you, could we?” Bucky said as he pushed a huge coffee mug at him. This one sported the Avengers A on the side of it.

“Point.”

“It’s presentation,” Natasha said. “She wants a story, she wants to see how we’re doing, and she’s going to be asking us a lot of invasive questions.”

“I’m aware,” but he sipped his coffee and studied her as she slid another tray of—cookies. The whole penthouse was gonna smell like a bakery. “Chocolate chip?”

“With macadamia nuts,” she promised and he nodded.

“Those can stay,” he offered magnanimously.

“I’m going down to the lab after I eat,” Peter said to him before glancing at Natasha and Steve. “Unless there are any other boxes you want me to go down and get.”

“I think you got them all,” Bucky told him. “You grabbed the display boxes from storage?”

“Yep, they’re in the back.” Peter grinned as Steve handed him a heaping plate with pancakes. Gradually it sank in that Steve and Bucky had also made an effort to dress for the occasion. Steve had on a dark green dress shirt and a festive looking tie as well as slacks and Bucky had gone with a dark red shirt and a black tie. More Natasha’s colors than Christmas, but it fit.

Bucky built his own plate and Tony took another swallow of the coffee.

Natasha had a point, he supposed as he studied the room. The chairs and sofa adjustments gave it a wider, more open appeal. They’d switched the dining table to create that illusion of space.

There was some kind of holiday bowl thing with fruits and pine in the middle of the table. He would just go with not asking.

“Eat,” Steve ordered as he set a plate in front of Tony and Tony sighed. Right up until Steve, nudged Natasha lightly and handed her a plate. “You eat, too.”

“You want tea, Doll? Or sticking with the coffee?” Bucky asked before he bit into some bacon.

“Coffee is fine, I will make the cocoa when Christine gets here. We want to keep this as relaxed as we can.”

Tony squinted at Natasha, studying her. Nothing in her expression or demeanor betrayed her rough night. Even the shadows in her eyes had been banished to the corners.

“I’ll be fine, Tony,” she assured him. “It’s an hour. We’ve both handled much worse for much longer.”

Exhaling, he nodded.

Peter devoured his pancakes and then glanced out the windows. “Weather says the snow is slowing and the winds are coming down. We might be getting a break in the storm.”

“Check in with your aunt?” Steve suggested.

“I will,” Peter said. “She was on the overnight though so she texted me at six to say she was going to get some sleep. I’ll wait a while.” He glanced at all of them. “And I know I have to talk to her about going to Wakanda if that’s okay with all of you.”

Tony took a bite of his toast as he considered the kid. “Let’s discuss that in a couple of days, all right?”

“You do need to tell her before you go though,” Natasha stated. “I appreciate you wanting to be there, but that’s another country and it’s a long way from Queens.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time, and it was probably better that Aunt May didn’t know about Germany.”

Yeah, Tony didn’t glance at Natasha on that one. “Not really helping Pete.”

“Peter, you’re still under eighteen, she has a right to know if we’re taking you out of the country, so—let’s talk about it after Christmas.” Natasha’s firm tone made it clear it wasn’t a negotiation.

“She might say no.”

“And she could say yes, Pal,” Bucky told him. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, yeah?”

The kid sagged a little. “You know adults usually only say all that when what they mean is no, they just don’t want to say it?”

“Maybe,” Steve tackled that. “Sometimes, they also say it because we have a lot on our plates at the moment and we need to shift things before we tackle the next part. Wakanda’s not a mission, arguably, we can tell your aunt it will be educational for you.”

Tony snorted. “Look at Cap, coming up with the cover story.”

“The best lies are always the truth,” Natasha said quietly. “And Peter, we’ve had this discussion about your aunt.”

He nodded. “I know. I just—don’t want to worry her.”

“I know you don’t, but you aren’t a fan of when other people do things and don’t tell you even if we have perfectly valid reasons for keeping it from you.”

Peter squirmed then shot a look at Bucky who just shrugged at him. “I know.”

Finally, Peter turned to him and Tony shook his head. “I’m Switzerland.”

“And he has a chalet there to prove it,” Steve tacked on. There was a beat of silence and then Tony snickered and he wasn’t alone.

“Later, okay Peter?” Natasha studied the teen in between bites of her food. “We’re not saying you can’t go, just—let’s get through this interview and everything else. We still have presents to wrap and more.”

Like a damn memory machine to destroy.

That definitely went on the It’s Naughty and Needs To Go list.

Still, they managed to finish breakfast and Natasha had brownies and cookies cooling on a rack and everything cleaned up with a fresh tray of—she was trying to kill him—more cookies to slide into the oven.

While Natasha walked Peter to the elevator, Tony got his tie knotted and studied the living room layout. It was very festive. Around him, the soft jingles of holiday tunes began to flow from the speakers.

“You two realize she’s going to ask some seriously pointed questions?” Tony finally asked, glancing at Steve and Bucky.

“Natalia mentioned,” Bucky said. “Do you want me to be elsewhere for this?”

Tony frowned. “A part of me says yes, but that’s just to dodge questions she might lob at you. If you guys are here, she’s going to take it as fair game.”

“And the rest of you?” Steve asked as he shut the dishwasher, then picked up his own cup of coffee. They’d taken the time to brew another pot for themselves and one for Tony and Natasha.

“You’re an Avenger, this is where you belong,” Tony said and for the first time, it took no effort to say it. He didn’t feel the need to edit himself or squeeze it out past the tightness in his chest.

If someone had told him four months ago he’d feel this way? He’d have laughed in their face.

Bucky answered him with a single nod. “Then I’ll be here to watch your backs.”

Steve wore a faint smile, but his attention shifted beyond them and Tony twisted to find Nat returning, arms folded. “We’ve got about ten minutes,” she said.

“You want to wrap it early,” Steve told her. “You signal us, we’ll make a graceful extraction.”

“Ask Bucky to get a drink,” Tony suggested even as the man in question nodded. “It’s innocuous. Friday will inform you that there’s a call you have to take. Got that, Baby Girl?”

“Got it, Boss. Their car has arrived out front; they are being moved to the public garage. Security will commence a full sweep before they’re allowed up.”

“Yay,” Tony said. “Think the shawarma place will be open after this?”

With lifted brows, Steve chuckled. “You think it’ll be that bad?”

“Oh, I think it’ll be worse, but I like to keep my options open.”

“I’m going to get the cocoa started,” Natasha said and moved toward the stove. “I think we could all use it this morning.”

And an IV of caffeine, but hot cocoa worked. When Natasha turned her back, he reached for one of the cookies. He grinned as he snagged one without getting his hand slapped.

“Only the one,” she said without looking up. “We don’t need you on a sugar high.”

He made a face at her back as the other two laughed at him.

And to think, he could still be asleep right now _with_ Natasha. But no, they had to take this interview.

Ugh.

Some days, he missed being the feckless ass who could blow shit like this off.

Some days.

But he was Iron Man and this was team business.

So, he’d put on his big boy armor and get it done.

~~~

Dressed smartly, yet warmly, Christine was all smiles as she and her cameraman exited the elevator. They’d been warned she planned to film from the moment she stepped foot on the floor—well, she’d asked, but warned was about right.

“Hello Mr. Stark,” Christine greeted him.

“Ms. Everhart,” he said, keeping it professional. “You look well.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t offer him her hand, smart girl remembered. Instead she offered her hand to Steve. “Captain Rogers. I wasn’t aware you would be joining the interview.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Everhart.” Steve greeted her with a polite smile and an earnest expression. It worked for him, even better with the beard. “I’ve seen your broadcasts, you’re very talented.”

“Thank you.” But she was already tracking her next target. “Sergeant Barnes.”

“Will not be taking any questions,” Tony said, snagging her attention. “He’s here in support, so you’ll just have to satisfy your exclusive quota with us.”

“That’s fine,” Christine told him. “The leader of the Avengers is quite the catch and you’re always good for a sound byte or twelve, Mr. Stark.” There was a dare in her eyes, like she knew something he didn’t.

There was a solid chance she did actually know something he didn’t. But he wasn’t the one fishing. “Would you like to come in and sit down?”

“Actually, I’d like to see Ms. Romanoff, I was told she would be a part of this interview.”

“She is,” Natasha said in her familiar rasp from the direction of the kitchen. “But she’s also making hot cocoa, so you’re going to have to give me a moment. You arrived a little earlier than expected.”

Almost too eagerly, Christine pivoted and headed for the kitchen, her cameraman right behind her. Bucky was perfectly positioned to intercept if necessary. So far, Friday had given Tony a green light via his glasses. At Steve’s raised eyebrows, Tony shook his head. No problems so far.

With a nod, they both shifted to get a better view as Christine stood in the entryway to the kitchen.

“You’re actually making hot cocoa.”

Tony had to restrain his smirk at the definitive surprise in the reporter’s voice. Black Widow had a domestic streak a mile wide, something the public rarely ever saw or expected. It was also none of their damn business.

“Yes, I prefer it this way,” Natasha said easily, not a hair out of place or an eyelash flickering. She looked completely at ease.

Yeah, they were keeping this to an hour or less. She didn’t need to be cornered.

“Ms. Everhart, why don’t you come sit? Red will join us in a minute.”

“Yep, about ninety seconds,” Natasha confirmed, even as Christine scanned the kitchen, before she turned to face Tony fully.

He could almost read the assessment in her eyes. After a beat, she motioned to her cameraman. “There,” she pointed him toward the dining room. “Shift if you need to, but let’s work with wide shots, we can zoom in editing.”

Natasha carried out a tray with the mugs of hot cocoa on it and she’d even made one for Christine. It took a couple of minutes, but then they were settled. Steve snagged the chair opposite where Christine had picked for herself. Tony and Natasha took the sofa and Bucky elected to stand, his position putting him closer to the cameraman.

“Before we begin, it’s good to see you, Ms. Romanoff. It’s been a while.” She took a moment to try the cocoa and surprise rippled across her face.

_Yes, drink the magic of the cocoa and be converted. _For a split second, Tony could imagine some maniacal cartoon villain tapping their fingers as they took the world over one cup of her hot cocoa at a time. It was almost enough to make him snort aloud.

He managed to avoid that.

Barely.

“A few years,” Natasha agreed, taking a sip of her own. The heat of Tony’s own mug was welcome, though he needed another pound of coffee when this was done. The fact Natasha’s cocoa had made frequent appearances the last few days served as a frequent reminder of how much soothing they all required. She’d added something different to it this time, but it was amazingly smooth and rich.

“You turned down my interview request following the fall of SHIELD and the incident at the Triskelion.”

“I said all I had to say on that subject in front of Congress,” Natasha told her, serene and comfortable.

“Well, hopefully that’s not the case today.” Christine took a moment to have another swallow of her cocoa. “This is amazing by the way and perfect for the weather. Thank you.”

Natasha’s smile was a wealth of mirth and generosity. Damn she was good. “You’re welcome.”

“Now,” Christine continued, switching her attention to him. “Mr. Stark, our viewers are very familiar with you. Everyone knows Iron Man.”

“It’s good to be loved,” Tony answered without missing a beat. “You know how much I enjoy giving people what they want.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I have a vague recollection.”

Nice.

Well hit.

“That being said, while our viewers are very familiar with you and one might say very fond, they also have a deep affection for Captain America and I know they’ll be delighted to see you’ve joined us. I mean—it’s obvious there’s been a great deal of reconciliation over the last few months since the incident in Leipzig and the falling out over the Accords.”

“Friends can disagree,” Steve answered her unasked question, setting his mug down to keep his hands free. “They can disagree on issues as minor as what movie to see to something as major as what team you should root for in World Series. Disagreements doesn’t mean you’re not friends or you can’t start over.”

“And you, Ms. Romanoff? Where do you fall in all of this? You were virtually the co-leader with Captain Rogers following Sokovia, you’ve been involved with the Avengers since they were founded, and yet, even when they were allowed to come home—you were still a fugitive. That can’t have been fun.”

“We don’t do this job because it’s fun,” Natasha told her after taking a sip of her cocoa. “We do it because it needs to be done.”

“It looks like you’ve made yourself very much at home since being allowed to return. How are things going with the Avengers?”

“Well, right now, we’re dealing with a blizzard and making ourselves available for emergency situations such as the power outages experienced in Brooklyn and Queens yesterday. We worked to make sure that power was restored, lines repaired and kept the lights on.” She was the master of answering while not answering.

“That’s more a job for someone like the utility company than superheroes, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not to the people who didn’t have power,” Natasha volleyed back every ball Christine threw at her.

“Other than working together, how are things going, personally, with the Avengers?” Yeah, Christine wasn’t letting go of that bone. “You split into virtually two groups, fought each other—and one member was gravely injured. How do you overcome that kind of bad blood?”

“Forgiveness,” Tony said bluntly. “You have to learn to let go of your anger even if you didn’t like a choice, sometimes there was no choice. Cap and I fundamentally disagreed on the necessity of the Accords and unfortunately a situation arose that forced us to confront that disagreement very publically.”

“Compassion,” Steve added. “It’s easy to forget when you’re having a disagreement that what you’re angry about or what you are struggling with is a concept or an idea—it doesn’t have to be the person. I believe that every single one of us stood by our convictions passionately. We didn’t want to fight.”

“We were also limited in available choices,” Tony picked up the thread. “If we hadn’t taken on the task, then someone else would have and it could have ended up much worse than it did.”

Leaning forward, Christine stared at Natasha. “You’re very quiet on this subject, Ms. Romanoff. Do you have anything to add?”

“To be fair,” Steve said before Natasha could answer. “Natasha was the only one who advocated for all of us, who kept trying to find a way to fix the divide before it broke.”

“She was right,” Tony could admit that. “She saw flaws, but she also saw virtues. We saw no way to compromise. We’ve learned. I think that’s what makes us stronger.”

“But you changed sides,” Christine said, not letting go of the bone. “You were supportive of the Accords. You signed them. You participated in the conflict at Leipzig to bring in Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers along with the other members of the team who came in to support them _after_ you were nearly killed in the terrorist bombing at Geneva. Yet, you then let them go. I think I speak for a lot of people when I ask you, why? Why would you choose to sign and then break the Accords so swiftly? Even after your own life had been imperiled by, who many believed at the time, was the Winter Soldier and the man Captain Rogers was protecting.”

“To be clear, the man behind the bombing in Geneva was Helmut Zemo, former Sokovian special ops. He planned several actions, including the bombing of the Accords signing to implicate and frame the Winter Soldier. At no point was Sergeant Barnes at the fault for those actions. As for what I did? I made a judgment call. It’s easy to sit back in an office or even here on this sofa and theorize how you are going to react in any given situation. We can even decide there will be rules—for example—you can be given explicit instructions to not ask certain questions from someone you have gotten to interview. But if you see an opening where they let you in to ask that question? Do you do it? Or do you follow the rules? Is it a better interview and ask your question?”

“That’s entertainment and journalism, that’s not waging war and conflict in the streets.”

“Exactly. Because what you do informs people, but that can have reckless consequences in inexpert hands. The same can be said of any fight we go into. We have to weigh and assess not only our opponents but also the threat they pose to the civilian population. There is always the chance they’ll be stronger, faster, more powerful. There’s always a chance we’ll lose. We don’t stop fighting; we don’t give up. But fighting doesn’t always mean fists or guns or lasers. Sometimes fighting is knowing when the battle has to _end_. Because ending it saves lives and that’s always the goal.”

“Was that the goal when you confronted Secretary Ross in his home and allowed him to torture you?”

“Yes.”

Tony kept his expression bland.

Shifting in her chair, Christine leaned forward, what leeway they’d seemed to have gained with the hot cocoa forgotten. “But you allowed him to burn you, strike you—there were news stories at the time of mental manipulation. Do you deny you were in a state of—mind control for lack of a better description—during those interactions?”

“I do deny it. I was totally in control. I walked in there prepared to play a part because Secretary Ross in conjunction with men he hired had sought to find a way to do exactly that. To control me. I presented him with his goal to see what he would do with it.” She took a sip of her cocoa like they weren’t casually discussing the fact that someone else had harmed her.

“And he just—did all those things and decided to send you to kill Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers? Does that make sense?”

‘He did. I am not going to explain the intense psychological schism required to make those kinds of choices. I presented him with a loaded weapon. He chose to fire it. He chose to use the opportunity with malice after inflicting harm to prove that I was compliant.” Her mouth twisted faintly at the term. “No one forced him. No one held a gun to his head. We were alone in that house as all the recordings verified.”

“You know that’s another question, where did the recordings come from?”

“I’m very skilled at what I do.” Again, not a lie.

“None of them were manipulated or enhanced?”

“The originals were turned over to the Committee via an attorney who represented me in the matter. I’m sure if you reach out to the Committee, they’d be more than happy to let you review their authentication. Though copies were also distributed to the press, but you know that. You received copies.”

His admiration for Natasha continued to climb. She didn’t break into a sweat as the cameraman shifted and Christine continued to hammer.

“How do you feel now? About the fact that Secretary Ross has essentially been removed from his post, but there has been a failure to indict.”

“I did my job. I exposed a threat.”

And Natasha wasn’t giving her anything to work with.

“Well, speaking of the Committee, Ms. Romanoff, is it true that there were countries working against you during the time you were taking meetings to renegotiate the Accords? That these countries were actively seeking a way to bar you from the Avengers and remove you as Captain Rogers’ second?”

They hadn’t discussed this part. How transparent they should be and when Natasha glanced at him, he lifted his shoulders. They didn’t owe the Committee shit.

“We acted in good faith,” Tony said. “We pursued an avenue with meetings to allowed Natasha and I to sit down with delegates from every country who signed the Accords and we were working our way through those meetings to discuss substantive changes to make the Accords _better_ for everyone when we were made aware of a document circulating among some members with plans to undermine not only Ms. Romanoff’s credibility but our overall negotiation while interfering in how the Avengers is organized.”

“You were meeting with a 117 countries?”

“Not all at once,” Natasha assured her. “We feel it’s important that every single member nation be heard. We can’t help where we’re not welcome and no nation should feel we’re trampling on their sovereignty when our goal is assistance and protection, not conquest and domination.”

“Captain Rogers, how do you feel about the Committee calling into question your capabilities as a leader by trying to sabotage who you choose to act as your second?”

“Obviously, I wasn’t happy about it. It’s a matter of respect and integrity. As Tony said, we were acting in good faith. It would seem many of their number weren’t. One of my primary concerns about the Accords was their susceptibility to the manipulations of others and agendas they weren’t meant to serve. But it’s a work in progress. In particular, there’s never been an agreement of this nature before between so many nations over so few individuals. We have to allow for course correction and education.”

Tony could have kissed Steve. That was a perfect answer.

“And you, MS. Romanoff? How do you feel about those nations who behaved poorly in light of all the allegations filed against you? They are holding you to one standard and themselves to another?”

“I hate to say this, but that’s pretty much normal human behavior. Control what you don’t understand. Eliminate what you can’t control. That isn’t as diplomatic as Steve would put it.” A conscious choice on her part, the Avengers offer diplomacy, but they navigate the real world. “But it wasn’t unexpected. Whenever you are negotiating, the power lies with the person writing the document. They wrote the original document without _any_ input from the Avengers. We were handed it as a _fait accompli_, compliance would be rewarded.”

Christine’s eyes narrowed. “That’s an interesting phrase.”

“Is it?” Natasha spread her hands. “I believe we saw the immediate results when they illegally and unethically incarcerated several Avengers following Leipzig.”

“But you could attribute that to Secretary Ross, surely? That abuse of power.”

“When someone abuses power, ma’am,” Steve told her. “It is the ethical and moral responsibility of those around them to stop it. If they enable that abuse, they are just as guilty of it. We can sit here all day and discuss our feelings on the actions of one man, but the body that he was a _part_ of, not the _leader_ of, condoned those actions either through complicity or silence. We’re not asking for anything more than a seat at the table and a chance to police ourselves while putting together a document that ensures equitable security for _everyone_.”

Christine smiled. “I don’t know if that’s even possible.”

“We won’t know until we try,” Natasha said. “We’re willing to. We’re here. We’ve made ourselves available. While that goes on, we’ll keep doing our jobs while we fight to keep our jobs.”

“Are those actions why you took a break, Ms. Romanoff? Took a step back from all the public appearances the last couple of weeks?”

“It seemed prudent at the time. I’m not in this job for acclaim.”

“Then why do you do this? You don’t wear a suit, you can’t fly, you don’t have super strength, I mean—I admire the hell out of you, but you’re a woman with a couple of guns? Why do it at all? Why risk your life at all?”

“Because I can. Because someone has to. Because I’m good at it. It’s not always about brute strength, Ms. Everhart. Sometimes it’s about having the will and the cleverness to get the job done.”

Christine actually chuckled. “I can respect that. So what did you do with your downtime?”

Tony shifted in his seat. He’d finished his hot cocoa and set it aside. They needed to shift that topic.

“I baked cookies and brownies today,” Natasha answered. “Decorated the tree this week. Took care of some shopping.” None of which was a lie.

“That sounds relaxing.” Christine slid a look toward Tony. “Any big plans for the holidays?”

“Just the same old stuff, eggnog, cookies, and presents under the tree,” Tony said. “Hopefully, we won’t need to assemble.”

“But if we have to,” Steve added. “We will.”

“That’s admirable, truly.”

Had it been an hour yet? It had been going well, but Christine was up to something.

“Ms. Romanoff, I really do have one question I have to ask, there’s been a lot of speculation about you and Mr. Stark. There’s even a huge betting line in Vegas involving the two of you. Are you two finally together?”

Fuck his life. And the gossips.

“What’s the line?” Natasha asked.

“Excuse me?” Christine tilted her head, her eyes intrigued.

“What’s the line? You said there’s a line in Vegas, what’s the over under and how much?”

“The line covers everything from you’re secretly married and have been for a few years to you’re waiting to announce an engagement at the resolution of the Accords to you are together but never going to announce. It’s pretty good in favor; so the line pays really well if it swings negative. People really like the look of you together.”

“I’m going to have to check that out,” Natasha said. “It’s been a while since I have been able to bet on myself.”

Tony shook his head slightly.

“Do you have a comment, Mr. Stark? Captain Rogers? Sergeant Barnes even?”

“Nope,” Tony answered. “I don’t know what the line is either. I mean, we could do a side wager, but research would be better.”

“I don’t tend to place many bets,” Steve said slowly. “I definitely wouldn’t without seeing the rest of the card.”

Natasha glanced at him and grinned. “Oh, you’re right. There could be real celebrities on that list. We definitely need to check it out.”

“Hey, who are you calling a fake celebrity?” Tony snarked and she smirked at him.

Exasperation flitted across Christine’s face almost too quickly to track. But she narrowed her eyes at Tony. “Mr. Stark, I have a more difficult question to ask you.”

“Well since you’ve been lobbing softballs Ms. Everhart, hit me.” She was going to ask him about Pepper and her boyfriend. Fantastic. He could handle it.

“How does it feel to not only have the man who killed your parents on the Avengers now, but also living with you? I think most anyone would find that challenging if not impossible.”

Cold threaded through his system effectively erasing the good will he’d harbored toward the reporter.

And it hadn’t been much in the first place.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not most anyone and the people living with me? They’re _people_. The man sent to murder my parents was a puppet under the control of an organization that didn’t care who they hurt as long as it got them what they wanted. Unfortunately, that man, who is also sitting _right here_—and you damn well know it, so nice, Ms. Everhart, very classy.” He let that hang a moment. She’d crossed a line. “But as I was saying, that man was as much as victim a my parents were. James Buchanan Barnes _didn’t_ kill them. Seventy years of suffering is more than enough for anyone especially a man who didn’t do anything except go to war for his country and serve it. He’s deserves respect, he’s more than _earned_ it.”

Tony rose to his feet, Steve less than a heartbeat behind him.

“He’s a hero, Ms. Everhart, not click bait. I wish you a very merry Christmas, but the interview is over.”

Without a word, Steve extended his arm toward the elevator and the cameraman was already moving. Christine took a moment to rise. Her speculative gaze swept over all of them, but she wouldn’t find anything. Natasha remained unreadable; Tony could lean on his irritation at the question, but Steve?

He radiated disapproval and Christine was getting the full brunt of it. She actually had the grace to look contrite.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she said, pausing to face him. For his part, Bucky had stood throughout the interview, quiet. A silent sentinel. Like Natasha, his expression was absolutely neutral. “My apologies for putting both you and Mr. Stark on the spot. It’s part of my job. It’s part of helping the world to understand an arguably unusual situation. I’m aware that you were a prisoner of war and I would never seek to make light of it and I could have handled it more delicately.”

For his part, Bucky met her gaze evenly, before saying, “I don’t think anyone could handle asking someone those questions delicately. I’ve been very lucky to have advocates in my corner who helped me get free and offered me support when I have no right to expect it. I’m grateful for them every damn day.”

Christine went to open her mouth as if to do a follow-up when Natasha rose directly into her line of sight. “Thank you for taking the time, Ms. Everhart.” But the interview was over. They had asked her politely. Tony had no trouble with being impolite if she didn’t move her ass.

Finally, the reporter relented, taking a moment to drain her hot cocoa before finally making her way out.

“Yes, thank you for your time,” Steve added as he and Tony walked her and the cameraman to the elevator.

Once the doors closed, Tony let out a groan and loosened his tie. Friday would send them straight to the lobby; security would take care of the rest. If he hadn’t been exhausted before, he was now.

Rolling his head from side to side, he unbuttoned his collar. He needed coffee. “That could have gone worse.”


	29. Wager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The throuple needs to work off some aggravation and tension

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

**Wager**

**Bucky**

The speed bag went flying across the training room and slammed into the wall. Natalia pushed up from where she’d been stretching, but Bucky shook his head. Despite how little sleep she’d gotten and the rather abrupt wake-up call to face an interview, she’d changed to go to the training room rather than take a nap.

_“That could have gone worse.”_

Tony’s statement had been more aggrieved than relieved. Natalia had focused on him and Bucky as had Steve. The question bothered all of them far more than it had him. Bucky’s biggest problem involved the dame ambushing Tony for an emotional reaction.

“He needs to burn that off,” Bucky told her.

“I know,” she said, pushing to her feet. “I’m going to offer him an alternative.”

“Natalia…”

But she was already striding across the gym as Steve had switched to a second hanging bag. He’d planned on dragging Steve into a spar or goading him, whichever was necessary after he’d burned off some steam on the speed bags. From the moment the reporter left, Steve’s eyes held a tightly leashed anger. It simmered there like a ticking time bomb, but Bucky suspected that was exactly why Natalia dragged them down to the gym when they would have preferred she rested.

She was still taking care of them.

It started right after the reporter left and Natasha ran her fingers down his left arm before interlacing her fingers with his. “You did good, _milli moi_.”

“All I had to do was stand and listen. She wanted to provoke Tony.” That was his regret. Tony didn’t deserve to have that thrown in his face. They’d all been on fairly even footing the last few weeks, they didn’t need it to destabilize.

Natalia had glanced over and met Tony’s gaze. Tie off, Tony rolled his head from side to side. “I’m fine. But I do feel the need to destroy some shit, so I’m going to rip the black box out of that memory machine so we can take the damn thing apart—_after_ I check on Pete. I’ll call you when I have answers, Red. You guys—make yourselves at home.” At the elevator, he glanced back. “You did good. All of you.”

“Tony?” Steve took a step toward him. “We’re here.”

The other man had rubbed the back of his neck. “I know… and I’m all right. Just, tired.” Then he lifted his chin toward Natalia. “Look after Red.”

Then he was gone leaving the three of them in the penthouse. Not lingering, they’d headed back to their floor, but the anger coiling in Steve wasn’t exactly hidden. Natalia had just changed and said she wanted to go to the gym and thirty minutes later, here they were and now she was going to try and get him to spar.

“Hey, Steve…” Natalia said as he slowed his hits at her approach. “Let’s go, you need something that hits back before you kill more punching bags.”

With an almost scoffing snort, Steve slanted a look at her. “No.”

Yeah, this was not going to end well. Bucky sighed.

His best friend and his girl.

Both stubborn, pig-headed, and absolutely capable of winding each other up. Still, she wasn’t wrong. Steve needed something to hit.

Instead of being irked, she took a couple of steps backward toward the ring as she spread her hands wide. “Well, maybe I need to hit something that hits back.”

Bucky absolutely did not smile. Natalia’s voice dipped, the soft rasp of it even huskier.

“Angel,” Steve said and the warning in his voice said no almost as clearly as his earlier statement. Dressed in leggings and a tank top, Natalia’s arms, hands and feet were bare. She hadn’t even wrapped them. When she’d gone to stretch, Bucky had joined her more to keep an eye on her and let Steve work off the edge.

That conversation with Tony was going to haunt him for a while. The fact she even considered disappearing into a cover, said she wanted to on the one hand and then didn’t on the other, that was one thing. He got it. Sometimes the mission was just easier to deal with that the personal shit. He’d struggled with it on and off since he got away from Hydra. Some days, he just wanted to be elsewhere.

But when she called herself a monster…

_“Because it’s what I’ve always done,” she told him. “Be someone else. Become someone else. It’s not just a name on an I.D. It’s a mindset, a history, a whole wealth of experiences—and in most of them I didn’t grow up in the Red Room and become a monster who isn’t even sure what to do with happiness when she finds it.”_

_“You’re not a monster, Red.”_

_“I know what I am, Tony. I know what you and everyone else sees. But I know what I am. I do what I can to make up for it and sometimes, being the monster, pays off. I can survive anything.”_

_“You’re not a fucking monster.” Everything in Tony’s voice was low, hot, and furious._

It was the only thing that kept Bucky from stepping in right then and there. Tony had said the right things and while she may not have believed him, she listened. In the decades Bucky had known her, she’d never called herself that. Not once. Not even when they’d stood in a room they’d painted with blood taking out mercenaries who’d intercepted their mission.

Not when they’d taken out innocents because the mission demanded it and their handlers were explicit in their orders.

Natalia was not a monster. She was not what the Red Room moulded her to be, she never had been. She played their game better than they had, but she’d never killed with disregard for life.

The Soldier had.

If they were an enemy, they died. If they touched Natalia, they died. If they got in their way, they died.

The only conflicts he’d ever faced were their handlers. People who needed to die but who held the leash and kept him choked off from being able to complete it.

“Nat, c’mon. You’re still healing and…”

“Still healing?” She put her hands on her hips. “My toes are bruised. And if we’re waiting on my brain, we’ll probably both be geriatric by then. So…get your ass over here Rogers and play with me.”

Steve shot him a look that said _help_ but the more Bucky thought about it. The more he had to agree with Natalia. She needed this.

“Go for it, I get the winner.” It was that simple.

Rolling his eyes, Steve glared. That was not the answer he wanted.

“I’ll go easy on you,” she coaxed. “I’ll even spot you a point.”

The déjà vu to when she’d shown up in the gym at the chalet flashed through Bucky’s mind. She’d been dressed in a tank that left part of her midriff bare and leggings that hugged her ass every bit as much as the ones she had on now. Her eyes had been playful and her manner damn near seductive, but it was more than that. It was the way she moved.

Bucky hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her then or now for that matter. _C’mon, Stevie_, _see that she’s asking you to touch her._

A slap fight would put them into each other’s space. Natalia would go all in and the strikes would be touching. But Bucky didn’t think this was her pushing. This was her grasping onto something familiar, a space they’d carved out for themselves long before becoming lovers. A place they could both control.

She wanted to help Steve, but she was asking for Steve’s help.

Still, he hesitated. “Fine,” Bucky said striding toward her. “I’ll spar with Natalia and you can take on the winner.”

Natalia eyed him, and then gave a little shrug and a smile as she shifted into the ring.

When Bucky was three steps from the ring, Steve sighed. “Dammit.”

Got ‘im.

Natalia’s slow smile said she knew it, too, and with her back to Steve, she winked at Bucky. He mouthed _be careful_ and she lifted her shoulders like—_hey, it’s me_.

Yes, he knew exactly who it was.

But to be sure, Bucky eyed Steve. “You in or you out, Punk?”

They locked gazes and Bucky saw the concern that had replaced some of the anger. He didn’t want to tip the boat where Natalia was concerned. It was a risk; she already had issues with touching. Yeah, Bucky got that, but she _asked_ him for something she needed.

Glancing to the ring where Natalia waited, arms akimbo and hands on her hips, Steve sighed before giving her an appraising look. “Fine, what’s the bet?”

Delight filled her smile and Bucky let out a breath. It was exactly the right response.

“I don’t know,” she mused. “What do you want?”

He made a show of scratching his beard as he approached the mats where she waited. “A night where you do everything I ask you to do.”

“If she takes that bet, I’m definitely taking the next round to win it from you,” Bucky grinned.

“Fine, make it everything _we_ ask you to do,” Steve amended it. “Better?”

“Much.” Bucky glanced at Natalia. Amusement hovered at the corners of her lips as her eyes narrowed.

“That means if I win, then you both have to do what I want you to do.”

Spreading his hands, Steve said, “Seems fair.”

“Limitations? Only for an evening say six hours from six p.m. to midnight.”

“Acceptable,” Steve said. “You have three outs. If we tell you to do something you really don’t want, you can call out.”

“Definitely, but you get three each—since one of you may be more comfortable than the other.” That told Bucky she had something specific in mind or something specific she needed. She’d told him there might come a point and she’d ask him for help.

Apparently, they were there.

Folding his arms, Bucky nodded. “We can’t ask you to do anything dangerous.”

Steve gave him a look like no kidding, but Natalia snorted.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Which in turn earned her Stevie’s exasperated look.

“The fun is in _playing_, Angel, not in _harming_.”

“Depends on what you call dangerous… I mean getting all touchy-feely can be dangerous.”

Narrowing his eyes, Bucky said. “Fine, Natalia, amend it to physically dangerous.” Though he wouldn’t harm her mentally or emotionally, the pure act of being willing to wager control was dangerous enough.

“So no knife games?” The teasing glint was good to see, but still…

“No,” Steve reinforced. “No knife games.”

Natalia bounced in place. “Restraints are okay, but _nothing_ on my wrists.”

That absolutely got Steve’s attention and he blinked. “Not fond of restraints of any kind.”

“You don’t know that,” she told him, the corner of her mouth tipping up. “But your call. James?”

“I’ll pass.” He would trust Natalia with it, but he understood where she was going with this now. “Before anything happens, we will talk, however, that’s another condition. Everyone will be absolutely clear on what is okay and what isn’t.”

She nodded, no arguments.

Steve spread his hands. “That would be a given, but also agreed.”

“Will you come and play with me now, Steve?” She batted her eyes at him, hands clasped together behind her back. It was such an obvious maneuver; she had to have magnified it for effect. Steve chuckled.

“Angel, I already feel better. You don’t have to do this for me.”

“Was only doing it for you to a point,” she admitted. “I need to do this, I wasn’t kidding. Sometimes the only way to deal with a fear is to face it and go through. If it’s an autonomic psychological reaction triggered by physical proximity, then we go back to the touching I’ve always been comfortable with first.”

Fighting.

Natalia had been fighting for as long as she could remember. It was a sobering thought.

“Slaps then,” Steve said, his tone brooking no arguments and his expression stern. “Standard rules. To ten.”

“And if I’m up for it? Best two out of three?”

Steve flicked a look to Bucky. Was she up for three full bouts? Normally, yes, not even a question. But…?

“Bucky’s already taking on the winner, so if you beat me, you bout with him. If I win, I bout with him.”

“What do you two wager if you two go up against each other?”

Fair question and Bucky had the answer. “Who gets to decide first.”

“I can live with that,” Steve said. “And if Bucky bouts with you—since you will have won, what do you want for that one?”

They were going to be discussing terms for a while, but Natalia’s eyes had a gleam they’d been missing except for Saturday’s snow fight and shopping. She studied him for a moment, the corner of her mouth kicking up.

“I want a second evening,” Bucky said without missing a beat. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea and Natalia wouldn’t have offered if she didn’t need or want it.

“Second evening it is then…so if Steve wins, you two bout to decide who goes first. If I win, we bout to see who gets a second evening—or if we end up splitting it one evening on each side.”

“Deal,” Steve nodded. Bucky smiled.

“Done.”

“If either of you goes _easy_ on me,” Natalia said. “Deal’s off.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Doll.”

Steve rolled his eyes and she laughed. “Suck it up, Angel. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She tilted her head back then stretched her hands over her head. “Well get over here, Rogers. I have a fight to win.”

But did she want to win?

When she bounced, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Steve lunged.

**Steve**

The last thing he’d wanted to do when he came down to the gym was spar with Natasha. In fact, the last thing he’d wanted was for her to come down to the gym. The fact she’d been up most of the night worried him. That she’d had to deal with the questions Everhart threw at her worried him. That she’d been so exhausted, she hadn’t even noticed him or Bucky where she slept curled up next to Tony worried him.

But, he didn’t get a say in what she did. Okay, that wasn’t fair. She talked to him. She’d confided in them about a lot of things, including every medical step she was taking and she’d listened to his advice about Wakanda. What she wouldn’t talk to them about had everything to do with that week she spent in captivity and he understood it even if he hated it.

Not hovering, he could do. Trying to give her space to sort out what was happening in her head, he could do. Letting her hurt? That was damn near impossible. Then Everhart had to hammer on the ever-present and unending rumors pairing Natasha and Tony together. They managed to defuse that and she attacked on the front of Tony’s parents.

Suddenly, he understood what Tony meant when he said calling an Assemble might be necessary. Sharp and intelligent didn’t mean kind or compassionate. Though the reporter’s contrition at the end seemed genuine. When Tony had headed off to check in with Peter and then work on a project—anything that let him put his focus elsewhere, Steve suddenly understood the parallels he’d always seen, but had never put together. Why Natasha and Tony understood each other the way they did.

They both wore masks to hide themselves from the world. They were always planning; it was just how they were built. They both buried themselves in work when they weren’t sure how to deal with an emotional blow. It had been there all along, that kinship and similarity, it was why they could irritate each other and yet, at the same time, be perfectly in sync.

Back on his floor while they split up to change, Steve reached out to Friday.

“Friday, is Tony all right?”

“He seems well, and Boss is working with Mr. Parker at the moment, Captain,” Friday answered not even trying to disguise her evasive answer while offering him a separate kernel of information.

“Seems. Friday, will you let me know if he begins to seem not well?”

“I can express your concern to the Boss, Captain Rogers. But protocol isn’t to notify you.”

No, it would be to notify Natasha. “Fair, but I’m worried about him. Ms. Everhart shouldn’t have ambushed him with that question.”

“Agreed. I am afraid Ms. Everhart will be disappointed with the recording malfunction that took place prior to the last bit of questioning.”

Steve chuckled.

“Well, how unfortunate for her.”

“Quite.”

“Still, I’d appreciate a head’s up. Even if it’s just that he needs Natasha.”

There was a considering quiet. “I understand, Captain Rogers and I appreciate the concern.”

“But you’re not going to tell us.” Her first loyalty was to Tony. “Okay. But if you think he needs one of us, will that work?”

“I believe I can accommodate that request, Captain.” There was a beat of silence. “Captain?”

“Yes, Friday?”

“You haven’t inquired, but you did seem concerned this morning when you learned that Natasha had been up most of the night and I notified Boss and not you or Sergeant Barnes.”

“I figured that was a protocol.”

“Not explicitly,” Friday admitted. “It is protocol to notify you, Sergeant Barnes, Mr. Barton or the Boss in the event of an episode. Currently, Natasha has allowed me to monitor her vitals 24/7 even when in privacy mode.”

Surprise flickered through Steve. Was she that worried about herself?

“When she left your floor, she maintained sleep mode on the floor, which as you know…”

“Precludes interruptions unless an actual emergency, she wasn’t having an episode.”

“No,” Friday admitted. “But I was concerned. I woke Boss because Mr. Barton is at the Compound.”

Raking a hand through his hair, Steve nodded. “Friday? I’d like to amend the sleep mode protocols for my floor.”

“I can accommodate that request.”

“In the future, even if Natasha has left the floor in sleep mode, if you are concerned about her again—notify myself or Sergeant Barnes as well as Tony.”

“Understood, Captain.” The pleased note in her voice made Steve smile. She was clever. Tony was right, she had been spending a lot of time with Natasha.

“And Friday?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for looking after her.”

“Of course, Captain. She’s my friend.”

“Let Tony know, we’ll be in the gym if he needs us. Peter, too.”

In the gym, Natasha had gone to stretch and he’d headed for the speed bags. He’d half-expected Bucky to join him. But he seemed less bothered by Everhart’s questions than either Steve or Tony, so that was at least something.

Natasha’s challenge had been unexpected, but then again, it probably shouldn’t have been.

This was Natasha. She was putting herself out there because she was worried about them. She wanted to protect him—but something in the way she asked tickled something in the back of his head. Bucky confirmed it with his own reactions. She wasn’t just asking to distract him and get him to let out some aggression.

She was asking for herself.

A fact she confirmed when she brought up restraints. But negotiating the wager had distracted him and bled some of his aggravation away.

Then she said, “If either of you goes _easy_ on me. Deal’s off.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Doll,” Bucky drawled, his expression completely relaxed.

Good.

Steve rolled his eyes and she delighted him when she laughed. “Suck it up, Angel. I’m not going to hurt you.” But he had to admit; the idea of sparring seemed more appealing especially when the corners of her mouth turned up into a smirk.

She tilted her head back then stretched her hands over her head. “Well get over here, Rogers. I have a fight to win.”

Did she now? Steve rolled his head; aware of the fact once they started she would be all in. Oddly—or maybe not so oddly—a thrill whipped through him. The wicked grin, the teasing eyes, and the blatant challenge? That was his Natasha, daring him to get off his ass and come and get her.

Fine, she wanted to play. Normally, he let her make the first move, but as she bounced from one foot to the other, he lunged and nearly landed on his face as she whipped around and he felt her foot slap him against the ass on his way to the floor.

“That’s one,” Bucky called cheerfully.

Catching himself on his hands, he rolled and narrowly missed another slap when he tumbled to his feet and pivoted. A grin pulled at the corners of his mouth.

The agitation in his system smoothed out as she circled and he moved with her. Every spar with Natasha was different. She never relied on the same set of tricks. Blazingly fast, she also never pulled her punches and the strikes she landed stung.

His strength? It took concentration especially when they sped up to make sure he pulled the strikes, but she never shied away from it. If anything, she would use it against him and turn the tables. Now, more than ever, he was aware of the fact she was asking him to hit her—not to hurt, but to feel the sting.

Abruptly, she shifted directions and instead of backpedalling he turned to meet her and took the slap against his chest as she ducked his arm. Having expected it, he was already turning and the slap he landed on her ass jolted her up and forward.

A laugh exploded out of her and she glanced at him. “Oh, it’s on.”

Then she was coming at him in a flurry of motion, catching him off guard.

“Two-one,” Bucky called helpfully, the amusement in his voice egging them on.

Natasha landed a slap against the inside of his thigh as she slid between them and then slammed both of her feet against his ass.

“Four-one.”

“Ha!” Natasha said, but Steve avoided the next strike as she danced into him and caught her leg as she went for another kick. Aware of his strength and her capabilities, he lifted and thrust her upward as he flipped her backward. Her laughter as she went up and over cut off when he popped her thigh, but she tossed another look at him over her shoulder as she landed gracefully and he found himself grinning.

The last of the irritation over the interview bled away as she came for him. It was a dance, and he made her chase him. A part of him assessed the faint jerkiness in her moves, she never shied away from contact, but he managed to block two slaps, and delivered a pair in rapid succession to her arm and shoulder only to take a slap to his kidney.

“Five-four, nice one Steve!” Bucky called. “Get ‘im, Natalia, he’s showing you up.”

Rich, throaty laughter broke through her concentration and Steve switched tactics and went after her. She feinted to the right, but that was his move. When he went left, she streaked past him and narrowly missed his strike. The dance took them all over the mats.

Steve braced for her when she somersaulted and landed on his knee, blazingly fast she was going up and over to lock those thighs. He took a slap to the shoulder and another to the side as he turned into her and got an arm around her thigh and another around her mid-section. It was like unpeeling tape, but he swung her off and over and paddled her ass for the effort as she tried to take him with her.

Twisting he took the fall and caught her before she landed on top of him, but he had her by the forearms. “Ah-ah.” He said. “No cheating.”

“Oh, c’mon Steve,” she murmured, dipping her head like she was going to kiss him. “I always cheat a little.”

“Yes, I know,” he muttered, then stole the offered kiss as she let out a huffing laugh and nipped his lower lip. “That doesn’t count,” he whispered as he rolled her to her back before leaping up and away, narrowly avoiding the foot she had for him.

“Seven-eight,” Bucky called. “C’mon, Stevie, you have her on the ropes, don’t get cocky now.”

“Seven-eight! A kiss doesn’t count as a slap,” she argued.

“Neither does cheating, Angel, but if you can cheat then so can I.”

“Cap, I’m shocked. Appalled. Flabbergasted.” And standing still, she pressed a hand to her chest. “Have I truly corrupted you?”

“Are you really upset by the idea?” he asked drily.

“Not even a little bit,” she said with a wink before dancing toward him only to dart away when he swiped for her. Adrenaline sang through him with every flash of her smile. He was slightly winded, but sweat soaked her shirt and had her hair curling damply against her forehead.

She came at him with a flurry of kicks to push him back across the ring, and he blocked them careful to not let her land a hit even as he made her chase him. Nothing aggravated her more than when he played keep away, which he did for the first two sorties, feinted like he would engage on the third. The abrupt change as he switched it up and rolled sent her leaping up and over him, he spun low and took the hit to the shoulder to catch her as he came up and almost whispered he was sorry as he landed two more slaps one to each hip as he flipped them both.

He absorbed most of the impact, catching her and bracing her by the hips above him as she panted. Normally, he’d go for the pin, but that wasn’t necessary here.

“Dammit,” she laughed.

“Nine-ten,” Bucky drawled. “Guess you have to sit the next one out, Doll. This is going to be all Stevie and me.”

But Nat had never been a bad sport about losing, even when she wanted to win. Panting, she braced a knee on the ground on either side of him and though he kept the touch light, he was ready to drop his grip at the first sign of negative reaction.

A husky laugh escaped her as she shook her head. “I’m impressed,” she said and pleasure fountained up through him. “That was a good move. You’ve been training with James and it _shows_.”

Bucky’s snort made Steve grin wider. Natasha didn’t give compliments like that lightly.

“I like it,” she continued.

He gave her hips a gentle squeeze. Pressing his luck, but why not? The fact she was smiling loosened something in his chest. Their date night had been more than he could have expected or asked for. She tried so hard for them and he refused to do less than meet her halfway.

“Good,” he said, content to lie there for as long as she was comfortable. The fact she perched atop him was a nice change.

Suddenly, Bucky appeared overhead, gazing down at both of them.

“She break you?”

Steve chuckled. “A long time ago,” he admitted. But at her raised eyebrows, he winked. “Then she put me back together again.” Then he focused on her. “You were right.”

“I usually am,” she grinned, almost smug and he laughed. “But what was I right about now?”

“You needed this spar.” The deadpan delivery did it; she threw head back and laughed. Even Bucky chuckled and Steve lay there watching the way the emotion chased over her face, the way she _let_ chase over her face. No artifice or masks.

“Touché, dorogoi, touché.”

He’d needed it, too. As she continued to sit there, his hands resting lightly on her hips, he realized he needed to be able to just touch her, for a moment. To remind himself she was real and they were going to get past all of it. He needed to get out of his head and her out of hers.

“You ready for James?” she asked, eyebrows raised. Then she did the unexpected; she rested her hand against his chest and over his heart. Their breathing had long since evened out and he was content to lie here forever.

“If I have to, I kind of want to bask in my win.”

“Me too, but a wager is a wager.”

With a sigh, he gripped her hips a little tighter and sat up, then lifted her as he rose and set her on her feet. “You good?”

She tilted her head from side to side, and then slid a hand up to his nape and tugged, he went willingly and smiled as she kissed him. It was light, a brush of angel’s wings and then she pulled away.

“I’m good. Now go defend your win.”

“Hey,” Bucky complained. “You taking sides, Doll?”

“No more than you did,” she teased, slapping a hand lightly against his chest. Then rising on her tiptoes to kiss him gently, murmuring, “I’m going to have fun either way. So this is all kind of win-win for me.”

Then she winked and sauntered over to the cooler for water.

Steve blew out a breath as she walked away. “She sounds… better.”

“She sounds like she made a decision,” Bucky answered him quietly. “She’s asking for help.”

And she was asking them. “You have any idea what she wants?” Steve was guessing here, but the restraints had been a big clue.

Bucky nodded once. “We’ll talk after I kick your ass.”

With a snort, Steve pulled his gaze from Natasha and looked at Bucky. “Side bet?”

“Sure, whatcha got?”

Natasha had pulled out a bottle of water and had twisted off the top and tipped it up, drinking it down in one long continuous swallow.

“I win, you tell me what it is you’ve been working on that you’ve been keeping quiet.”

Bucky snorted, but didn’t deny it. Granted, they didn’t spend every minute of every day together, but they spent enough time and he knew him well enough to know when Bucky had something up his sleeve. The last few weeks, he’d been up to something but there had been too many distractions.

“I win and you…”

**Natasha**

She finished her bottle of water, but neither of the two on the mats had begun. Her muscles ached and the buzz under her skin wasn’t so bad, even after sitting there for a while with Steve holding her. Her ass, on the other hand, stung more than a little but it was a good sting.

Steve’s sudden laugh pulled her attention, but the challenge on James’ face was absolutely clear. The humor on Steve’s face eased and he stared at James with no small amount of shock. His “you’re serious?” carried across the gym and she canted her head. What were they up to?

James just smirked and Steve groaned. “You are such a jerk sometimes.”

“C’mon, Punk. It’ll be fun.”

Natasha laughed and captured their attention simultaneously. “Oh, no, you two keep going. This is entertaining.” Especially after she’d caught the gleam in James’ eye when she said restraints would be fine. She’d known what she wanted from the get-go. Sometimes the only way to defeat a fear was to get in front of it. If she had to reprogram her own damn responses as much as she hated the word, then she would.

But she couldn’t do it on her own. Talking to Tony the night before, she’d faced a couple of harder truths about herself. The answer wasn’t just inside, it was outside. Worse, it wasn’t one she could escape unless she planned to abandon what she had.

She wasn’t doing that.

Not if she could help it.

Submersing herself into another identity had always worked in the past because she had nothing to lose. No ties to bind her.

Gazing at the pair of ties she’d grown deeply attached to, she could never just vanish on them. Not without a compelling reason. They weren’t the only ones who held her fast and tight.

For better or worse, she’d made choices and more, she _wanted_ to be here with her _team_.

Her family.

Was Steve blushing? The red flush to the tips of his ears intrigued her, but whatever they were saying, she couldn’t hear. She could always ask Friday, but she passed on that. Instead, she pulled out more water and moved back toward the mats so she had a good seat to watch.

“Then we have a deal?” James said and Steve glanced at her, his eyes speculative.

She raised her eyebrows.

“Decide for me, Angel,” Steve said. “Yes or no?”

“With no clue as to the question?”

“Exactly.” His grin teased her. Interesting.

“Do I get any clues?”

“You can ask three questions,” James offered. “But they can only be _yes_ or _no_ questions.”

“Nice,” she said, studying them both. Steve’s expression was equal parts disbelief and delight with a hint of embarrassment thrown in. James just looked smug. He always did like knowing something she didn’t.

She tossed them each a bottle of water as she considered them. “Is it a wager?”

Steve glanced down as he opened the water bottle, laughing softly.

That was a yes, but she looked at James and waited.

“Yes,” he said with a nod before shaking his head at Steve. “Punk, there’s a reason she always gets it out of you.”

“I don’t care,” Steve said. “That was worth it.” His chuckles eddied out across the room and she felt her own smile widen. The spar had left her humming, her blood pumping, and a thread of excitement. And from the sounds of it, Steve had gotten some of what he needed from it, too.

His eyes had been almost diamond-hard and furious after Christine brought up Tony’s parents. Tony rolled with it, but he’d need some time to cool off. Not because it made him angry—well, he’d been annoyed with Christine—but because it reopened the hurt. Tony’s complicated relationship with his parents left scars. Every time he had to revisit those scars, it left bruises. Time with Peter would be good for him, but she would find him later.

Steve had grown protective of Tony and she had to wonder if he was even aware of how much.

For now, she focused on the pair in front of her. “The wager involves something kinky?”

A snort of fresh laughter and James elbowed Steve. “If you’re not going to at least attempt a game face, just turn around.” But despite the remark, James’ eyes danced with entertainment.

So that only left her with one question. “Will I enjoy it?”

The smile on Steve’s face grew and his eyes warmed as he stared at her. “I hope so,” he replied, but James sighed. Steve drained his water bottle.

“I said yes or no,” he reminded her.

“And you both know me well enough to be able to answer that.”

The best friends glanced at each other. Their wordless communication always fascinated her—at least when they weren’t using it against her. Arguably, they were right now, but she was enjoying the play of emotion over their faces and in their eyes. Escaping the shadow of her imprisonment was good for all of them.

“Yes,” James admitted. “I believe you will.”

“Well then, by all means, Steve,” she said. “Take the wager.”

“You heard the lady,” James said, amusement in his tone. “Take the wager.” James took a drink but set his nearly full bottle to the side.

“Just remember, Angel.” Steve paced over to her to hand her the empty. “You told me to do it.”

“I trust you both,” she reminded him. “I also know that I have three outs.”

At that, Steve turned to glare at James and James snorted. “Doesn’t mean she’ll use them.”

True.

Natasha put a hand on Steve’s arm and he glanced down. Leaning up, she gave him a kiss. “Good luck.”

“Mean, Natalia. You’re picking sides.”

“Am I?” She drifted over and brushed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then whispered, “You forget, I win no matter who wins this little ‘bout.”

“Little…?” He flicked his gaze to Steve and then to her. “You’re managing me, Natalia.” There was only a hint of warning in his voice.

“Yes,” she admitted, as she rubbed a soothing circle to the center of his chest. It amped her system a little, but she wasn’t sure how much of that was need and how much of it was anxiety because Steve had definitely gotten her system going. “But only a little. No more than you do when you worry about me.”

Not like he could argue that.

He raised his hands but hesitated. So she stepped right up to him and he settled them on her biceps. Searching her face, he said, “Doll, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I will if I want to.” She wasn’t the only one in this relationship. “I’m taking up a lot of air right now and you’re both doing everything you can to accommodate me, and I’m telling you what I told Steve, I am letting you take care of me as much as I can. You have to let me take care of you.”

“Angel, we know that, we also know how hard you are trying to protect us. Neither of us has ever been big on hiding from the fight.”

“Him more than me,” James admitted. “He actively goes looking for them.”

“Jerk,” Steve said with a smile.

“Punk,” came the natural volley.

Tossing the water bottles over to the side, she held out a hand to Steve and curled her fingers. He gave her a searching look but then took the outstretched hand. Tugging him closer, she turned to look up at James. “Super soldier sandwich.”

There was a beat.

“Did you just…?” Steve sounded a little mystified—and kind of insulted—even as he laughed.

“Yes, I said sandwich. It’s our _thing._” She cleared her throat and James groaned as he wrapped an arm around her and then Steve closed in on her back. Eyes shut; she forced her breathing to stay calm as she leaned into them. “This…” she said carefully. “This is what I want to protect. Us—all of us.”

The steady thump of James’ heart grounded her even as Steve pressed his lips to the back of her head.

“Doll, you have us—nothing you ever say will change that.”

“No,” she said with a sigh, then shifted, moving to lean against their arms so she could look up at both of them. “We have enough nightmares—among us—we have dark things we all see. But for a little while—it wasn’t so bad.”

She could almost see the wheels turning in their heads.

“We were all sleeping again, you two weren’t staying up all night to make sure I was still breathing or not jolting awake from a nightmare. We were playing—and laughing—and planning. Now I’m a little obsessed and apparently a whole lot more damaged than any of us realized.”

They were whole, scarred and battle-worn sure, but whole.

“I want that again.”

James dragged her closer and then Steve locked in and she was caged right between them and as much as it set all the alarms jangling it also forced something tight in her to loosen.

Eyes closed, she pressed her face to James’ shoulder and dug her fingers into his hand and Steve’s where she still held on to them.

“I’m going to get better,” she promised.

“God, Angel.” Emotion punched up Steve’s voice. “We’re not rushing you, it takes as long as it takes.”

“I’m rushing me,” she insisted.

“Shh,” James crooned softly, then pressed a kiss to her temple. The hug lingered for a couple of long minutes before he stepped back and then Steve mirrored the movement. When she would have protested, he lifted her hand and flattened his palm so she could see her fingers trembling. Steve released her hand but only after pressing a kiss to it. “We know,” James reminded her and she nodded.

“Now Angel,” Steve said lightly. “If you could take this gorgeous ass over there and keep count, we’re going to twenty-five.”

She chuckled. “That’s going a little far, don’t you think?”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“But I bet I find out.” Taking a deep breath, she clenched her trembling fingers, then glanced from one to the other. “Play nicely, don’t get hurt, kick his ass.”

She bent to retrieve the water bottles she’d tossed as she left the mat.

“Whose ass should be kicked?” James clarified.

With a grin, she shrugged. “I believe I’ll leave that decision in your hands.”

After dumping the empties into the recycling can, she moved back over to sit and leaned back. Her hands were still shaking, but she refused to coddle it, her attention wholly focused on them.

The match started with James forcing Steve to come after him—which explained his actual first move with her earlier. Damn, she’d been so proud of him. He’d changed his style up a little, made her work to anticipate his moves. Fifteen minutes into the bout and the pair had scored only two slaps each.

Oh, they were going to be here a while.

Still… she closed her eyes and thought about the hug.

Worth it.

Something had to give, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update, I'll be in and out this week. My son is home tomorrow for the weekend and I get to see him for the first time in 52 days. Thank you everyone for your comments! We're actually closing on the first turning point and for those who know I usually go 50 chapters (or did in the first two) yeah, that rule is out the window. Like A Place for Us, this will go as long as it goes. We'll have what we have when we have it!
> 
> Thank you always for reading!


	30. Hourglass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An emergency pulls the Avengers into the field and Maria Hill pays a visit

**Chapter Thirty**

_Hourglass_

**Natasha**

“Look lively down there, Cap, we have more debris dropping,” Tony warned over comms. “Spider-Man—we’re going to lose that buttress. You got it?”

“I got it,” Peter said, his voice strained and coming in pops as he moved. “Just—need—to—tighten—this—up.”

“First building is clear,” Clint called out. “All residents accounted for and Buck’s doing a final sweep. Friday picking up any other signals.”

“Building is not clear,” James added. “I’ve got a couple more cats. Down in two.”

“Wanda,” Steve said. “How is it looking from your angle?”

“I’ve got it,” she said a similar strain in her voice. “Most of the larger debris is down, just a few more pieces.”

“We’re going to reinforce the next building. More EMTs are on the scene, but we’ve got to finish evacuating…”

A scream split the air.

“Scratch that, Spider-Man, get out of there now, that building isn’t going to hold.”

Another scream, but Natasha was already moving. She’d been coordinating the evac on the street. A gas main bursting had ruptured through the front of one building, compromising the surrounding buildings flushing people out into the bitter cold and snow. Currently, the team was trying to shore up the collapsing building until everyone was out.

A woman gestured wildly, straining to get back to a building but the cops were yanking her backward toward the barricades farther up the street her screams rose in pitch without words. Catching the cop’s arm, Natasha whipped him and woman around. The woman wailed as she faced Natasha and she signed _my baby is still in there. 1st floor. People, too._

She pointed. James was in the other building, Clint was too far and Cap was with Wanda…

With two quick motions, she told the woman to stay there.

“Cap, Tony, I need a full scan of building three, there’s a deaf mom who says her baby is in there, basement apartment, I’m going down.”

“Woah,” Tony snapped. “Red… hold up.”

“You’re holding buildings up, I’m free.”

“Scans are not showing anything, Natasha, that building is evacuated.” Friday warned.

“Check the first floor? Below ground?”

“Scanning.”

Natasha had stayed out of the initial push, working with Clint to guide people out and then she’d coordinated emergency services. But she wasn’t waiting if there was a baby.

Chaos swirled in the streets, dark smoke belched out of an open crater pitting the road and sidewalk where a portion of the first building had sheered away.

Skirting the whole, Natasha leaped the railing and dropped to the concrete steps leading down toward the basement apartments.

“I’m heading to you, Nat,” Steve said. “Don’t go in by yourself.”

There was a quake on the street and she caught a hand against the wall.

“Uh, guys…” Clint said.

“Friday, get the city to shut off these lines and if they won’t go in and just do it.” Tony’s voice had gone tight.

Another rumbling rolled up the street and the whole building shook. Wanda’s strain grunt carried over the open comms. The door was closed and locked, but she slid a small detonator out and attached it to the lock. It would be faster than picking it.

“Natasha get the kid and get out, now,” Steve ordered.

“I’m working on it…” She hit the small switch and turned away. It took three seconds and then the lock blasted off and she was in. The steps inside went down, turned and then descended again.

“Boss, a secondary line ruptured.”

“Spider-Man!”

“I got it!”

She tracked every sound they made as she descended the steps. There were three apartments on the basement level according to the city. The first door was locked. “Friday, can you scan anything down here and tell me which room the baby is in?”

Nothing.

Seriously?

She glanced toward the ceiling and then along the corridor. Heavy, concrete. Maybe steel reinforced.

Too dense for signals.

Great.

She was going to be paying for doors. Detonator on, she blew the door and went in. The apartment was empty and there was nothing that indicated a baby lived her or anyone was squatting. The air even smelled a little musty, older. The Armenian couple. Grandparents. There was a tree in the corner with some scattered presents under it.

The second apartment was home to kids at least and also had warm, freshly abandoned cups on the table. The room was cold. Too cold. No cribs or signs of infants, but…

There was noise in the back.

Shifting her stance, she moved carefully down the hall. There was a sniff. Then a hush, like some shhing…

“I can hear you in there,” she called. “My name is Natasha Romanoff, I’m one of the Avengers. The building is in danger of collapsing, you need to evacuate.”

No movement.

“It’s safe to come out, no one is going to hurt you out here…”

Okay, they didn’t have time for this.

She pushed into the back room and scanned it. No movement.

Maybe they didn’t speak English, so she repeated the phrase in multiple languages, and finally got movement.

A door, tucked into the wall pushed open and a man glared at her. Sweat decorated his brow and there were people behind him. “You must go,” he told her in heavily-accented English. “We will be taken if they see us up there.” Taken? Immigration maybe.

They could handle that.

“You’re going to die down here. The Avengers are here—you have to go. They’ll protect you.”

Another rumble hit and dust sifted off the ceiling.

“We will…”

Yeah, they didn’t have time. She pulled out her gun and held it one hand. “Go.”

Then she repeated it in Portuguese. “Ir. Não é seguro. Ninguém vai questionar você.” The man hesitated but his wife said something and the building shook. She didn’t want to point the gun at him with children behind them. But understanding lit his eyes. He and his family were less safe down here than up there.

Suddenly, the man picked up his daughter and hurried, his wife and son right behind them.

Natasha followed and pointed them to the stairs then went to the third door. It wasn’t locked. Another rumble and then something like small explosions echoed.

Oh. That wasn’t good.

In the apartment, she spotted the changing table and swept the rooms. In the bedroom, tucked into a basinet between the bed and the heater slept a baby, absolutely unaware of everything. So tiny. He couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old.

“Hello,” she murmured, securing her weapon before snagging a heavy blanket off the bed and then scooping the baby up. “It’s going to be alright,” she crooned. “You’re too new for this, but you’re going to be alright.”

Her comms crackled.

“Natalia…” James’ yell came from the hallway.

“Coming,” she called back and it woke the baby who released a lusty complaint. Blanket wrapped, she carried him for the door. James stood in the entrance to the apartment, his eyes narrowed.

“Your comms are out.”

“So are yours—it’s probably why Friday didn’t pick them up.” Why her scans couldn’t see them.

The next rumble kept going, this time followed by a series of explosions. They made it to the hallway and the whole building shook, the sifting dust from the ceiling became a shower, clouding the air. She kept the blanket over the baby’s face and her hand over the back of his head.

The sickening crack of stone and ripping hit just as they made it to the stairs going up. James shot a look up as a huge chunk suddenly dropped right down. He whirled and had her up and away, shielding her as it impacted. The whole thing shuddered; it was like being at ground zero to an earthquake. Wedged into the doorway of the first apartment, he braced his left hand against the ceiling and his right hand over the back of her head as they shielded the baby between them.

It went on and on.

The baby’s crying tugged at her, but it was hard to soothe him when it was so loud. Glass shattered as it fell. Plates cracked. The television shook right off the wall. Lights popped and sparked, then everything went out like the power had been shut off.

_Thank you, Friday_.

Anything involving gas leaks didn’t need sparks. Then the shaking stopped, but the air was thick with dust. Debris was everywhere around them. James fisted her hair gently and they both looked up.

“Check the stairwell?” She asked.

They waited a beat for more explosions and when none came, James nodded. She moved from the doorframe, without him adding to the support. She didn’t trust it. The baby’s crying turned to hiccups and she bounced him gently but kept the blanket over his head. Dust coated her mouth and filled every breath she took. It was going to get worse before it got better.

“Collapsed,” James told her as he climbed some of the debris, looking for a way up and out. “Steve knew I was coming in after you. The others are already looking to get us out. Bracelet on and active?”

She nodded; she’d activated it on the way to the quinjet because Friday had expressed the need to know. It was why she let her monitor her vitals 24/7 and keeping the tracker activated on the way in seemed prudent. Considering the emergency situation and circumstances, she figured it would just be easier on everyone. “If the signal can get through,” she coughed the last couple of words and the little boy whimper. Ducking, she peeked under the blanket. The dust down here was getting worse. All she could taste was it on her tongue.

His expression screwed up tight, displeased. Someone had been enjoying their nap.

“Tss, malysh. My dostavim tebya k tvoyey mame,” she crooned softly before covering him over. “He can’t stay in here, James. I have a dozen small detonators. Small yield. But maybe enough to tear a hole and give us some place to climb.”

He eyes her then the debris. Natasha scanned the level they were on. The walls were cracked and broken. The doorframes buckled. The whole building may not have come down, but it had taken a blow. This one had been mostly evacuated; there were others that still had people in them.

“Find cover,” James ordered. “And give me the detonators.” He leapt down and she shifted jutting a hip toward him.

“Fourth and fifth pouches.”

He removed them, then slid his hand up her back and touched her hair. At the quiet request, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his jaw tasting the dust all over him. He was a shroud of gray with piercing blue eyes.

“I know,” she whispered. “We’ll get out of here.”

Calm blanketed her much as she had the baby.

“Find cover,” he repeated, then pressed a kiss to her forehead before moving back to the stairwell. She scanned the apartment behind her and carried the kid over toward the sofa, shoving a foot against it she nodded. It didn’t budge, nice and heavy.

“Here,” she called, before moving behind it. James cleared the doorway, then covered her before yanking the sofa over them both.

The series of explosions went off with a pop-pop-pop-_bam_.

Natasha glanced sideways up at him. “_That_ was a bigger boom.”

He grinned. “I had detonators, too. But yours were cute.”

Rolling her eyes, she coughed as he shoved the sofa up. If the dust had been bad before, it was awful now.

James lifted her as he rose and she braced the baby more firmly against her chest. His hiccups and complaints had gentled. At least the sofa had muffled the explosion. She followed him to the stairwell. He twisted to look up. One leap, a second.

“Ms. Romanoff,” Spider-Man yelled. “Uh… Sergeant Barnes?”

“We’re here,” James told him. “See the large debris right at the top of the stairs?”

“Yeah,” Peter answered. “It looks like we got part of the upper floor here.”

“Help me wedge it up so Natalia can get out, she has a baby with her.”

“So _we_ can get out,” she told him sternly.

“Gotta be careful, it’s cracked in a lot of places, it could come apart. On three,” Peter told him. Natasha crossed the debris-scattered field. In the corner, the sad Christmas tree, smashed under the weight of the rubble tugged at her. These families were losing out on a lot—hopefully, no people. Things could be replaced—but Christmas was less than forty-eight hours away.

She had to call Isaiah and talk to Tony. There had to be something they could do. The sound of the concrete grinding and groaning coupled by the shriek of metal flooded the dust-choked hall. Her eyes watered and her chest protested the constant inhale of particles.

The sounds collided and the wall shivered. If she hadn’t been watching it… “James,” she warned.

“I see it,” he squeezed out. “Get ready to move, Natalia.”

The baby wailed at the noise and Natasha didn’t blame him. Even as she rubbed his back, he’d begun to cough. The air around them flushed with cold as the piece moved. They needed the fresh air, but they needed the rest of the building not fall on them.

“Hold on,” Spider-Man yelled.

The huge chunk was crumbling and James’ expression told her he knew it. The whole thing was unstable.

The floor and the walls began to quake.

“Okay,” Tony called. “Glad you could all wait for me, get ready Bucky, once we hoist, I’ll brace, you and Red get the hell out of there.”

James shot a glance to her and she nodded. She’d move at the first sign they had their opening. It was a dozen feet to get out.

Metal and rubble screamed and scraped as it jerked upward, James’ face reddening as he lifted. Then… he snapped a hand out and she went. Even with the cloud of dust and bits of plaster raining down, she didn’t slow. The stairs had vanished beneath uneven debris but she navigated swiftly.

“Come through with her,” Tony said from where he stood a few feet in bracing the slab. Spider-Man was visible just beyond it and gray light that made her squint as she squeezed past Tony with the baby and as soon as she and James were clear, the slab fell, another cloud of dust emerging. The whole street was dust and snow and flashing red and blue lights. Natasha strode through the snow, ignoring where she sank into it. The deaf woman perched at the edge of an ambulance she shoved away from the EMT as Natasha made a beeline for her.

Peeling the blanket back, she surrendered the woman’s son to her and the woman burst into tears, nearly falling and would have if Natasha hadn’t braced her and the baby.

“It’s okay,” she murmured to mother and son even if the woman couldn’t hear her. “It’s okay.”

All Natasha could taste was dust and dirt, but at least it was seasoned with success. This mom had her baby back. Dimly a sound penetrated as she rubbed the woman’s back trying to get her to calm. People were cheering.

Fuck.

There were cameras.

Schooling her expression, she gave the woman a firm tap, then eased her arm away as she straightened. Signing with one hand, Natasha said _Let’s get you and the baby in the ambulance._

Nodding a little, she finally turned to the EMT and Natasha shifted the boy over so he could take him.

The woman signed, _Thank you. Thank you._

With a smile, Natasha moved her fingers. _You’re welcome. It’s going to be all right._

Keeping her back to the press, she helped the woman climb up into the ambulance and then her focus was on the baby. “Do you know ASL?” Natasha asked the EMT.

He shook his head. “My partner does. That’s the only way we got her to sit in here.”

“Okay, tell me how the baby is…”

The woman glanced from the EMT to her and shot her a grateful smile.

_I can read—lips. But scattered._

_It’s okay, I can help._

She stayed there, crouching in the opening of the ambulance, blocking the cameras. Then she shut the door to close out the cold.

“You should see an EMT, too,” the technician said, eyeing her.

“I’m fine.” She waved him off with a dust-coated glove. “There was a lot of crap in the air down there.”

Turning her head away, she coughed once.

“Exactly, you should get checked out,” but rather than argue, the EMT—his name was Brent—continued examining the baby. “He’s in good shape. Angry, but then again his diaper is wet.” The kid let out a purely furious scream. Brent had a good tone, firm but kind and he kept it even for the baby.

“Nat, we’re going through and securing the buildings. We didn’t lose anyone.” Steve’s voice in her ear sent a lance of relief through her. “How’s the kid?”

“So far so good,” she said. “I’m going to be a minute.”

“Understood.”

“We’re going to transport them over to Mercy General, get them both looked at. They’ll probably want to keep the baby overnight for observation but he looks good.”

Natasha translated and suddenly had an armful of Mom again. Closing her eyes, she gave the woman a squeeze and then eased back. A layer of filth and dust coating her now lay on the woman’s clothes.

When she slipped out of the ambulance, she stared at the destruction wrought by one bad gas explosion.

They hadn’t lost anyone.

Exhaling, she pushed away and ignored the press yelling at her.

James was with Clint and she made a beeline for them.

“And Tony? These people…”

“Already got Friday working on it Red, we’ll make sure they have somewhere.”

Having your whole foundation ripped out from under you would make it hard no matter what they found to help them.

“Okay. What’s next?” she asked.

~~~

_BREAKING NEWS!_

“A series of gas explosions occurred late this morning in a building located off Greene Avenue between Knickerbocker and Irving, in the Bushwick neighborhood of Brooklyn, injuring at least nineteen people, four critically, and the resulting damage destroyed three adjacent buildings. The low casualty numbers in buildings housing more than a hundred families and the lack of deaths is largely due in part to the intervention of the Avengers according to Fire Chief Arturo Manquez.”

“As you can see behind me,” the fire chief said, gesturing to the taped off area with two partially collapsed and two destroyed buildings blanketed in dust, snow, and areas where black smoke trailed upward. “The damage radius impacted the stability of the surrounding buildings. This could have been much worse without the the Avengers who arrived on seen after the first explosion tore through the sidewalk here, then exploded through the front of an apartment on the first floor of the building here. The apartment was currently unoccupied and we have confirmed the residents are actually out of town.”

“A warning to our viewers, some of the images you are about to see may be disturbing and inappropriate for young children.”

Video footage showed the gutted remains of the apartment from exterior shots as cracks appeared in the building and it began to lean into the building next to it.

“Holy <bleep> the ground just exploded like a <bleeping> bomb dropped on it. I can hear sirens—but listen…” The video zoomed and a distinct creaking and groaning can be heard from the buildings.

A second video showed utility covers exploding upward from the ground. One slammed into a car, another sheered into a power pole. Flashing lights of emergency services could be seen through the rising dust and snow clouds.

“It’s <bleeping> cold out here and the heat just went out, but the building’s coming down…” A third video shows pieces of the building beginning to crumple and screams can be heard as people are struggling out into the cold, snow, and wind.

The angle changed to show Iron Man zooming in and figures dropping off a quinjet. Some are immediately recognizable as Captain America and Scarlet Witch’s signature red swirls.

“Efforts by the Avengers began by first stabilizing the building as they went in, building by building to evacuate—but more drama unfolded about thirty-two minutes into the incident when…”

The angle switched and Black Widow, clearly recognizable with her signature red hair and black bodysuit, moved people out and back, she was also working with the emergency services but she caught a hysterical woman and seemed to be trying to calm her. The video zoomed to her as she glanced from the woman to the building then back, before suddenly bolting toward the building.

The buildings had begun to shake. Less than five minutes after she disappeared into a building a family hurried up and out into the cold, a man, woman, and two young children. Then a figure with a metal arm—a bar on the screen identified him as Sergeant Barnes—hurried down the same steps she’d followed.

“About seven minutes after Black Widow entered and just under two minutes after Sergeant Barnes followed—a series of secondary explosions occurred. As the Avengers evacuated and tried to stabilize the building already coming down, the breaks in pressure tore through the stabilizing walls and brought two of the buildings down.”

The screen zoomed out and showed the destruction as Scarlet Witch prevented the debris from falling on rescuers. Iron Man and Spider-Man diverted and shored up. Flashes of Captain America’s shield were visible in the swirls of dust, smoke, and snow.

“Within seconds, however, it was clear the building Black Widow and Sergeant Barnes disappeared into had also been compromised.” The billowing smoke revealed rubble where they had entered and a huge chunk of floor collapsing down on the first level.

“Rescue efforts began immediately… and then the scene on the street changed as Black Widow reappeared, captured here in this image which has already begun trending online and around the world —it’s an image that says volumes for the Avengers and their efforts, but especially for Black Widow, the much-maligned and beleaguered Avenger who has faced unending scrutiny in the recent months…”

Through the dust and smoke, she emerged from the building cradling a blanket to her chest. Her red hair vanished under a layer of gray soot; it coated her uniform, and her face. She strode through the snow toward the woman she’d spoken to prior to going into the building where the woman sat at the back of an ambulance. Upon her arrival, the blanket parted to reveal a baby and the woman nearly collapsed. The image froze.

“In the hour since this video was released, we’ve confirmed that both mother and child are resting at Mercy and are both considered in stable condition. Neighbors describe Joyce Bernard as a dedicated and kind mother who also happens to be deaf. While we don’t know why she was pulled out without her son, we know she managed to sign to Black Widow that her son was _in_ the building and this is why the Avenger went back inside and risked her life to save that little boy.”

The image zoomed in on the Avenger’s dust-coated face in close-up with the tearful mother she was holding up.

“We’re going to hang onto this Christmas miracle while investigators continue to explore the cause of the explosion. In the meanwhile, with more than a hundred families, now displaced by the damage, it could be a bleak Christmas indeed. But we’ve learned that volunteers and staff with the Maria Stark Foundation are hard at work in finding supplies, clothing, and accommodations for these families, as well as—I’m told—a little Christmas spirit. We’ll be back with more as this story develops…”

The news faded out on the breaking news banner over the close-up of the scene with the soot-covered Black Widow featured prominently.

~~~

“It’s time,” the man said into the phone.

“No,” the other answered. “Not yet.”

“If you keep waiting, it won’t matter what we do.”

“I have not worked this long to be goaded into rash action by you.” The other’s dismissive tone grated. “You let her push you into showing your hand. I will not do the same.”

“So, are you planning to wait until they’ve all but forgotten her past? Until she’s sanctioned by the U.N. and the world?”

“When criminals fail, no one is surprised. When villains are revealed for every horrible deed they’ve committed? The public gawks at the spectacle, but no one really cares. But you tear down their heroes? You shatter their gold expectations? Then you feed into the hate. Let them laud her. We want them to embrace her fully…then we let him out. It will be her they blame.”

“You’re taking an awful risk,” the first said into the phone, his gaze fixed on the screen. “You’re underestimating Stark’s reach. He’s got the world falling as in love with her as he is.”

“No, I want them to love her,” the other said. “I want her to know they love her.”

“This had better work,” the first said.

“Or what? You’re toothless old man, save your threats. You had your shot. I’ll take mine when it’s time.”

~~~

It took another hour to secure the debris and turn it over to the city. By the time they boarded the quinjets, everyone was tired, Natasha included. She stripped off the dusty gloves and checked her face in the mirror. The slice along her hairline wasn’t deep even if she could feel the sting when she moved. It could wait until she was back. She took over piloting while the others sagged into seats.

Steve leaned against the pilot’s seat, his presence a comfort. “You good?” he asked, his tone questioning. Despite her and James’ brief time trapped inside the half-collapsed building, he’d avoided hovering so she’d give him this.

Tipping her head back, she glanced up. “Mostly bruises, maybe a couple of cuts and no fatalities? I’m great.”

With a grin, he nodded but skimmed a look over her face. “You’re really filthy.”

“Why thank you, you’re pretty dirty yourself.”

“At least I’m pretty,” he said with a wink and she laughed.

“We’re heading straight back out to the Compound,” Clint had told her before he boarded. “You guys are coming out today.” It wasn’t a question. So after showers, they’d all head for the Compound except maybe Peter who said he had to check with May.

As she approached the landing platform, Friday signaled them. “Boss, Maria Hill is here to see you and Natasha.”

“Does she have an appointment?” Tony asked, his tone dead neutral. Then again, Tony had told her Maria wouldn’t be contacting her unless Natasha reached out. “Actually, check that. Red, did you ask to see her?”

“Nope,” Natasha said, but she was tired of avoidance. Maria wanted a conversation. Let them have a conversation and be done with it. She was nowhere near as tired as she had been. “It’s fine. I’ll talk to her.”

“You sure, Angel?” Steve pitched his voice low.

Natasha shrugged. “She has things she needs to say. Maybe once it’s done, it’ll be done.” Then again, maybe she could also get answers to her own questions.

“Fine, send her to the common room floor and keep an eye on her. Red, you go take a shower and change if you want.”

“Better to just rip the Band-Aid off Tony. Besides—I’m already in tact gear.”

Peter asked, “Is Maria Hill a problem?”

Points to the kiddo for reading the tension.

“No,” James answered. “She won’t be.”

Once they were on the landing platform, she cycled the jet through locking it down before rising. She was going to have to dust the seat off later. The rear platform lowered admitting the brutally cold air. Tony still had his armor on and Pete was in full costume. But currently they also had no news copters trying to get pictures, so less of a concern.

Inside she headed for the elevator and went to Natasha’s floor to drop Peter off. “Shower, call your aunt, and let us know if you’re going to the Compound.”

“Okay,” he said, having dragged his mask off. His face was dirty and tired. He’d held up a lot of the weight today. Catching the doors before they closed, she added, “Peter…” When he turned to look at her, she smiled. “You did good today. Real good.”

“Agreed,” Tony and Steve said in unison.

“Eh, he did all right.” But James’ tone was teasing. “Definitely held up your end, Pal.”

Peter grinned. “Thanks. Let me know when it’s safe to come down or up?”

“We will.”

The elevator closed leaving her with the guys and they were silent on the trip to the Common Room floor. They found Maria standing by the windows Natasha looked out of the night before. She was dressed in jeans, knee-high boots, and a leather jacket. If she had a hat or gloves, they were tucked away.

She was also armed. At least one gun in the back, a second in a shoulder holster and the boots said she could have a pair of knives tucked there and likely one up her sleeve. Turning from the window, she glanced at all of them. Tony’s armor had withdrawn once they were inside, leaving him in jeans and a t-shirt, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t show up in a heartbeat.

“You could have taken time to clean up if you wanted,” she said. “You look like crap.”

“Thank you,” Tony commented drily. “What did I tell you about contacting Natasha?”

“Actually,” Maria told him drolly, fixing him with a look. “I told Friday I would like to talk to her if she was available but I would ask you about it. So as you can see, _I _didn’t contact her.”

Folding her arms, Natasha said, “Let’s make this easy. I’ll talk to you, but why don’t you brief us on why you’re here? Then we’ll figure out the next step.”

“I haven’t had luck turning up _where_ the second memory machine is located at the moment. I know Talbot _had_ it, I tracked the location along with where several other items removed from the Fridge were being stored.”

The looting of the Fridge had been a black eye, some of the more dangerous devices had been hard for them to remove—but the prisoners who got out had taken time to round up. If Talbot _had_ it, the language suggested he didn’t anymore.

“I have leads, I’ll continue on them but I may need Barton and Romanoff for that part.”

“Excuse me?” Tony said and Steve frowned.

Maria shrugged. “They’re trained agents, they can do what I can…”

“We can do it better,” Natasha told her flatly. “If you’re having that much trouble, just leave me with the info and I’ll follow up on my own.”

“No,” Maria said. “This is one time I’ll insist. You were level 10, Barton was level 9, but he should have been level 10 whether I like him or not. I walked away from SHIELD. I’ll stay out of it, but there are some secrets that I’m not at liberty to share with just anyone.”

On the last, she tracked her gaze to Natasha.

“You and Barton, or it can sit and wait until the two of you are ready to deal.”

“Maria,” Steve said. “I was…”

“Captain, I appreciate your clearance levels but you had those because Coulson was a fan and Romanoff was your shadow. You never would have gotten them otherwise. Not in the beginning. You earned it later, Steve, but this dates back to _before_ your time with SHIELD. It’s compartmentalized. Once it’s done, Nat—asha,” she nearly slipped on that last part as she almost shortened Natasha’s name. “She or Barton can tell you whatever they want. I won’t be responsible for breaking the chain.”

Natasha met her gaze evenly. No lies were hidden there. “How long is the op?”

“Woah,” Tony said, wheeling around and Natasha could practically feel the stillness binding James. “Just woah, Red, if you think we’re just going to…”

She pinned him with a look and he stopped as she tapped her bracelet once.

He glared and she raised her brows. They were not having this fight.

“Hear her out,” Steve said. “Natasha’s right. Brief us on what you need for the op.”

“I’ll brief _her_,” Maria said and Natasha rolled her eyes.

“You know, we can find it ourselves,” Steve answered. “Thanks for dropping by Maria.” The flat tone even earned an appreciative nod from Tony.

“What he said. Particularly if you need Natasha _and_ Clint and we have them. That means we don’t really need you,” Tony tacked on.

Maria ignored them and focused on her. “It’s up to you, Natasha.”

“Let me have the room guys,” Natasha said. “Friday can monitor but lock it to my voiceprint unless there’s an emergency.”

Steve frowned. “You sure?”

“Yep.”

Tony’s scowl deepened, but he focused on Maria. “This whole working for me thing you’re supposed to be doing. You’re not doing it well.”

“Then fire me,” Maria said, without rancor. “I’m being as upfront as I can. I’ll brief her. I’ll brief Barton. What they tell you is out of my hands.”

Which was the point. Maria knew something she wanted them to know but compartmentalizing that data meant she couldn’t reveal it without violating some oath—or maybe her word.

Natasha could appreciate that. “I’m sure, guys. Just give us the room.”

A brush of knuckles down her back, then James said, “Friday can give us wellness checks?” The request she understood.

“This time,” she told him. “Trust me.”

“You, I trust,” he said without hesitation then looked at Maria.

“I know.” And she did. She understood. But they didn’t take much more convincing even if Tony clearly disliked the idea.

Once they were gone, Natasha walked into the kitchen and pulled out water. She didn’t offer any to Maria. The other woman followed her but kept the bar between them. They were both keeping their distance.

Maria flicked a look up and Natasha smiled faintly. No, she hadn’t missed the fact she hadn’t asked for privacy yet. “Friday? You may monitor our conversation…”

The former Deputy Director to SHIELD glared at her.

“…but all recordings, audio, visual, and biometric are to be locked to my voiceprint, blackout all other surveillance and jam electronic devices.” Maria didn’t get to record or transmit on her side either.

“Understood, Natasha. I’ll be watching.”

“Thank you, Friday.” She didn’t trust Maria, either. She was also not putting herself in a position to be manipulated or controlled. If Maria had some trigger phrase then she would find herself sorely mistaken to think Natasha wouldn’t have a backup plan. If Natasha couldn’t trust her own mind at times, she could trust Friday to have her back.

“You’re quite welcome.”

Then the AI went quiet and Natasha tipped the bottle up to drink, her throat was grimy and sore. The water helped. “I’m here,” Natasha told her. “Speak.”

“God you can be such a bitch sometimes,” Maria said with an almost fond laugh, some of the reserve bleeding out of her expression.

“I can be a bitch all the time if the situation calls for it.” Natasha shrugged. “Don’t push it.”

“It’s fun to push it though,” Maria said. “Or it least it used to be.”

“Are we walking around the sinkhole of our warped lover’s lane or are we briefing?” Natasha was fairly certain she knew the answer, but she asked anyway.

“Will you give me enough time to do both?”

“That depends…”

“On?”

“Why you won’t let it go. This wasn’t a problem when you were working with us before, why make it one now?”

“Because before—we could still talk. Before… you didn’t know about the machine and I could pretend everything was fine—that I was fine with you and Barton—of course, you seem to have moved on or at least added to your collection....” She paused, then held up a hand. “Wait, I’m going to take the last part back. It’s none of my business who you’re with these days.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

“The point is—now you know.”

“Now I know.” Natasha shrugged again. “So what? It was a lie in a sea of lies I’ve waded through my whole life. It was good then it wasn’t. The end.”

“Except you think I used you…”

“No, I think you manipulated a benefit of messing with my mind. I think you wanted me and I was attracted—that’s clear. But you took a misconception and cashed it in for the full value.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Well, you can tell me what it was like _after_ you brief me.” There were details she needed because her plate was full and if Maria needed her and Clint on the op, she wasn’t agreeing to anything without full disclosure.

“Because if we talk, you may throw me out.”

“It’s entirely possible.” Natasha took another drink. “So talk. I’m listening.”

“All right—as far as I know, when the memory machine was removed from the Vault, it was moved to a highly secured warehouse just outside of D.C. It was reacquired from there during a break-in by forces loyal to a small segment of Hydra.” Maria’s braced her hands against the countertop, fingers splayed as she kept her gaze steady.

Everything about her posture displayed her discomfort with this subject. She was editing herself.

“At the time, no one realized what all had been taken—it was chaotic. This would have been about two months after you testified on Capitol Hill and none of the groups were talking to each other, not DHS, not FBI, not CIA—the task force was supposed to have lead but…” That aggravation Natasha understood.

“Politics,” she suggested.

“Exactly. Everyone wanted a piece of the pie and SHIELD left a very large vacuum many other intelligence agencies were eager to fill. The sad part, the _very_ secure warehouse was supposed to have been handed over to the ATCU—Talbot declined the instruction because the ATCU is civilian and not military. The confusion led to debate which led to conflicting orders…”

“And Hydra just slipped through the cracks.”

“Again,” Maria clarified, her voice firming up. “A segment of Hydra led by John Garrett and his men.”

She’d worked with Garrett in the past. Professional, dangerous, and just this side of crazy—he’d also been witty and entertaining. He’d also been a friend to Coulson. “That’s disappointing.”

“I know, right?” Mouth twisting in disgust, Maria said, “At this point, I’m beginning to think SHIELD infiltrated Hydra, I know the numbers don’t support it but so many of the people _we_ worked with…”

“It makes sense.” Natasha took a long swallow of the water; it helped to gradually soothe her throat. “When you think about it. We were ops, STRIKE, infiltration—munitions—intelligence—where else would Hydra put their people but right where they could do the most harm and gather the most intelligence?”

“I suppose. I just resent the fact it happened under my nose.”

For once, Natasha could appreciate the sentiment. “Maria, they were there before either of us. How were we supposed to notice? The secrecy. The compartmentalization. It was in the DNA.”

“Doesn’t make me feel better about being complicit in anything that happened to you or comfortable with how much they conditioned me to be comfortable with.”

“It’s the past. You can dwell on it or you can work to build a better future.”

Frowning, Maria cocked her head. “How do you sound so calm now when a few days ago you could barely stand to look at me?”

“I adapt. Being disappointed isn’t a new thing for me. But let’s get back to Garrett’s people and the memory machine.”

The other woman sighed. “Can I get a bottle of water?”

Natasha trusted Friday to have her back as she opened the fridge and pulled out another. She tossed it with ease and Maria caught it before twisting the cap off and taking a drink.

“As far as I know, Garrett’s people had the device for about two months—they were actually using it to gather intelligence from someone else with a compromised memory.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. A few months after SHIELD fell, Natasha had been dealing with bounty hunters…

“No,” Maria said swiftly. “Not you. I swear it—to the best of my knowledge it _wasn’t_ you.”

That wasn’t comforting. “So what’s your stake in all of this?”

“Nothing, except that I know, theoretically, where the other machine is…”

“So you lied to Tony and Steve?”

“I carefully edited my selection of intelligence. But I’m telling you because technically you still have clearance and I gave my word.”

“To who and for what?”

“That I can’t tell you.”

Understanding crystalized. “That’s why you need us to go with you… you _can’t_ tell us, but you can show us.”

“If you happen to be there when I go to retrieve the device and I brought you as backup—I can’t be responsible for what you learn.” Cagey. But clever.

“You also can’t tell me where we’re going, what we’re expected to face, and whether or not we would be walking into a trap—so we would have to assume it is a trap because you are not the most trustworthy at the moment.”

“Unfortunately,” Maria said. “You have to do what you have to do.”

No way Steve or Tony or even James would go for this. It would be insane to walk into a situation blind. Except… “You hate Clint.”

“I don’t hate him,” Maria said flatly. “But I don’t trust him.”

“You want to bring him in on this…”

“Because whether I dislike him or not, whether I will never understand how you chose him—continue to choose him first every time—even after he betrayed all of us _including _you. You trust him. You will feel better if he’s there.”

But she was still holding so much back.

“The damned thing is I want to believe you,” Natasha admitted. “I’d like to know I could. That what you’re doing right now, you’re doing because you really mean what you say.”

“It’s a leap of faith,” Maria admitted. “I walked away from SHIELD. This—this will pretty much firebomb it. But it also…”

She glanced away and Natasha gave her a minute. Her micro-expressions were all over the place. Whatever this secret was, she didn’t want to keep it. But Maria was also well trained.

“Is this a ploy to get me back into SHIELD? Somewhere Nick can make me more compliant?”

The horror slipping through the mask wasn’t feigned. The cool blue of her eyes heated. “No. I will never put you in that position again. Just—fuck, Nat—I get it, I was an ass. I asked you to do something for me no questions asked and you did it.” Her expression tightened in a combination of self-loathing and disbelief. “I _asked_ you to put yourself through that…”

“At what point was I aware of what they were doing?”

Maria glanced away. “When we walked into the room and they explained what they were trying to do.”

“They told me they were trying to save people?”

Fists clenched…

“Let me guess, this is part of what you can’t tell me but need me to go with you to find out.”

“Fuck.” The other woman slapped her palms to the counter then paced away, one hand on her hip and the other against her temple.

Sighing, Natasha turned around and got the coffee going then went down a paper towel to run over her face while Maria stared out at the snow–laden streets. The cut along her hairline stung and reopened so she just applied pressure.

“You have to keep talking if you want me to keep listening,” she said finally.

“I know, but I can’t tell you. I want to, but I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” It was a fine line.

“Can’t,” Maria repeated, finally turning to face her. Arms folded she said, “You have no reason to believe me. No reason to trust me. You’ve made that clear. What—we had…”

“Was what we had, Maria, don’t pretend we were some great love story and we’re players in some Russian tragedy. We had sex. We enjoyed it. We went to work and we left the sex out of the office.”

“You left the sex out of the office,” Maria corrected. “I asked you out—I wanted more. You always put conditions on it.”

“You wanted me to turn my back on Clint,” Natasha told her flatly.

“I wanted you to pick _me_,” Maria stressed. “But you always went back to him. I was even willing to share you with him if that was the only way but after Loki…”

Natasha leaned her head back and sighed. Maria still didn’t know about Laura or the kids. She’d never known. Another secret. Another compartmentalization. At least Nick had kept his word there. That was a small gift.

“After Loki, everyone hated him and blamed him…”

“I know,” Maria stated, her tone waxing between chilly and clipped. “I was one of them. I wanted to keep him away from you, but even reassigning him didn’t help.”

“Maria, Clint saved my life. He saved my life over and over again. What Loki did to him—he had no more control over it than I did after that memory machine or the chair. Would you have put me down as easily if I’d been the one in New Mexico? If I’d been the one Loki co-opted at P.E.G.A.S.U.S.? Imagine if he’d used that scepter on me?”

Natasha had. It was a subject of nightmares for months after New York and periodically cropped back up.

“Imagine if I’d been the one tasked to help him conquer this world—would you have put a bullet in my head to stop me?”

Unflinchingly, Maria said, “If I had to.”

“Clint wouldn’t.”

That was the difference.

“He’d have fought to take me down, killing me would have been his absolute last resort.” Even then… “You want to know why I chose him again and again? He’s my _best_ friend. He has never _willingly_ betrayed me. He has _always_ been there for me. He _will_ always be there. If it was my life or his? He’d save mine, every time.” No question. “I had nothing—then I had Clint.” Clint chose her long before she ever gave him a reason to.

“You still have him and he has you.”

After pulling down two mugs, she filled them with coffee and then held one out to Maria. Forcing her to come to Natasha if she wanted the drink. With a sigh, Maria closed the distance and took the mug.

“We were never going to work out.”

“Probably not,” Natasha told her. “We were different people and we wanted different things.”

“I have no way to make this clear to you, when you turned to me after the TAHITI protocol—when you kissed me and acted like we’d had that wonderful weekend… I _wanted_ it to be true.”

“I believe you,” Natasha said quietly before she took a sip of the coffee.

Surprise filtered through Maria’s eyes.

“Believing you wanted me isn’t the problem, I remember a great deal of our relationship. It was intense and pleasurable and highly compartmentalized. It ended almost as abruptly as it began.”

“The day you found out Nick was alive.”

Natasha nodded once. “We weren’t exactly close by then and we didn’t get together near as often, but I need to be able to trust someone I’m going to be vulnerable with. You made a choice I couldn’t live with. Now you’ve made two of them.”

“It’s not something you can forgive.” It wasn’t a question.

“It’s not about forgiveness,” Natasha admitted. “Forgiveness doesn’t absolve a person of their guilt or their actions. It’s the act of letting go of anger. I’m not angry anymore. I don’t think I ever was. But it made it clear to me that we would always be compartmentalized for each other. You _did_ your job. I did mine.” It hurt. But it would have hurt far worse before—before the Accords. Before she betrayed Tony and he came back to find her. Before James returned to her life. Before Steve… Before everything went so wrong and they managed to salvage it. The sting remained. The disappointment remained.

“Now we’re here,” Maria said slowly.

“Essentially. We’re still facing the idea you want Clint and me to undertake this mission with you on precious little intelligence because whatever treasure lies at the end of the rainbow will explain what you can’t.”

“More or less,” the former deputy director said with a nod. “Some things are better when confronted directly rather than second-hand.”

Studying her, Natasha sipped her coffee. “Is it a trap, Maria?”

“No, but it might feel like one.”

“Is it another betrayal?”

“Possibly,” the other woman admitted.

“This is the only way to find out?”

“For now,” Maria said slowly. “I can’t predict the future.”

Admittedly, she was curious. But that could all be a ploy. The fact Maria wanted Clint there, though, that suggested something else. She wanted Natasha to feel safe. She and Clint got each other out of impossible missions. With Clint there, Natasha would have one person she trusted absolutely and so would he.

It could all be a power play, particularly with Maria’s emphasis on who Natasha chose.

“This is the only way to get the other machine?” Because willingly going to an unknown location with unknown forces to face unknown security measures because Maria couldn’t tell her something just seemed—unwise. Reckless.

Challenging.

The element of challenge was definitely present. But going in blind and risking Clint didn’t thrill her either. Even if they were more than capable.

“Maybe—I could give you the location I believe it’s at and you could take the team. It wouldn’t go well. It would be better to handle it quietly.”

Well that was something.

“Friday?”

“Yes, Natasha?”

“Ask Clint if he can go secure, I need him to join this conversation.”

Maria frowned, then exhaled a breath. “You know… if Loki had taken you, I don’t think it would have mattered what I would have done.”

Natasha raised a brow.

“You wouldn’t have let me see you coming.”

True enough. Clint had managed to distract and blind them on his way in.

“Natasha, Mr. Barton is on his way to your room at the Compound. He will go secure there. Please stand by. Also, Boss would like to respectfully request a status update.”

A laugh nearly escaped her. “Respectfully?”

“Well, I’m not one to put words in his mouth. He has plenty. But he would like an update rather promptly if you have one available.”

Friday was running interference for her. “We’re fine. I have a few more questions and I’m conferencing in Clint, please inform Tony, Steve, and James.”

“Right away.” The relief there was genuine.

“Friday, tell Tony to stop worrying. It’s not good for him.”

“Boss said to come tell him yourself if you want to be hard-headed,” Friday said with almost a sigh.

Natasha chuckled, ignoring Maria’s speculative look.

“Is it all of them or none of them?” Maria asked.

Not answering, Natasha merely returned her gaze with a bland expression.

“Mr. Barton is online, Natasha. Standby,” Friday announced, a moment later a hologram appeared between her and Maria.

“Seriously—she is here. I thought Friday was punking me.” Clint sounded less than happy. “What the hell do you want?”

“Clint,” Natasha said quietly, pulling his irked attention from Maria back to herself.

With a roll of her eyes, Maria headed for the kitchen. Natasha could track her movements and Friday would be, anyway.

“What’s going on Nat?” Cling studied her. “Why do you still look like we just dug you out of that building?”

“Because Maria was waiting when we got back and we’ve been talking.”

“Well that can’t be good,” he said, folding his arms. “What does she want?”

Maria returned with her coffee, but said nothing as Natasha filled Clint in on the conversation. His expression grew chillier and his eyes flintier, before he finally turned to face Maria again. “What the fuck makes you think we’d go anywhere with you?”

“Because Natasha wants to go and you want to watch her back. Because this gets us the other memory machine and answers to questions you both have.”

“Then answer the damn things instead of playing games,” Clint told her, his tone cool and firm. “This isn’t about a game, Maria. We’re talking about what you and Fury willfully subjected her to. You _owe_ her.”

“I do,” Maria admitted. “This is part of how I repay it but it has to be this way.”

“And you believe this?” Clint twisted to meet Natasha’s gaze.

“I believe she wants to help. Do I believe this could be a trap? Fifty-fifty.” She ignored Maria’s flinch. “Do I think there’s something more going on? Absolutely. The only question she hasn’t answered is the time sensitivity.”

Because Natasha had other matters that also had to be dealt with. Ones far more pressing, but this was a threat. She didn’t want to leave a threat behind her to come at her again.

“This is a terrible idea,” Clint admitted. He was in. Natasha didn’t have to ask. “When?”

They both looked at Maria and she shook her head. “It took me nearly an hour to convince you to even think about it and you persuade him in five minutes.”

“She didn’t have to persuade me,” Clint said. “I’m her partner. She goes, I go.” As simple as that answer was, his look said they would be having a longer conversation.

“Time constraints?” Natasha prompted her.

“I don’t think it’s moving, we have a few days. But sooner would probably be better than later.”

She didn’t have to ask, nor did she have any intentions of doing so. “Then we’ll be in touch,” Natasha told her and Maria deflated faintly.

After a protracted moment, Maria drained the coffee and set the mug down. “You have my number.”

Then she strode to the elevator but paused to glance back.

“For what it’s worth, you were right about him.” She nodded toward Clint. “I get it now. I mean—I saw it before, but I get it now. Talk soon?” The last she directed at Natasha.

When the doors closed, Clint glared at her. “What the hell is going on?”

“I have no idea. But it’s SHIELD-related, it has to be Nick’s new project. But whatever it is, she either means what she says and she can’t tell us because we wouldn’t believe her so she has to show us or…”

“…it’s a trap to put you in back in their hands or someone else’s.”

Natasha sat down on the coffee table. Still filthy, she didn’t want to leave dirt all over a chair or a sofa. “A trap that puts us _both_ back in their hands.” The emphasis Maria kept putting on Natasha and Clint’s “relationship” hadn’t been lost on her. What had she told Laura? Their enemies would focus on Natasha as leverage rather than looking for other connections and discovering his family. The reverse could also be applied.

“What’s your gut telling you, Nat?”

“That she’s telling the truth. As much as she’s able.”

He studied her for a long minute. “She’s not playing you? Not tugging on any emotional ties?”

“Maybe.” Natasha said. “Maybe I am compromised. But it’s her idea that you and I _both_ go. She said because she thought I would feel better about it if I had you at my back.”

“And the three Musketeers?”

“They’re not invited, and don’t call them that.”

“I dunno, they’re starting to act like it some days.” Clint frowned. “Nat—you have enough on your plate. We don’t have to start a game neither of us wants to play.”

“We don’t know if we want to play it…” At the same time. “But Mary is more important.”

His expression gentled. “So are you. Now go take a shower, change your clothes, soothe the beasts and then get your asses out here. I need to borrow your boyfriend anyway.”

“Beasts?”

“Trust me, you’ve been locked away with Maria and they’ve had nothing to do but worry since a building fell on your head? Beasts.”

Natasha sighed.

“I told you, my life was much simpler before you started dating boys.”

“I don’t know how much simpler,” she pointed out.

“Much. You had me, and you always took my advice, and everything went well.” He gave her a small smile then grinned when she snorted. “Okay so you never listened to me and always did everything your way—but when you were hurt, I could fix it, most of the time.”

“You were there for me, Clint,” she reminded him. “You’re here for me now. I’m just a little less compartmentalized than I used to be.”

“Uh huh. Go.” He pointed to the elevator. “I expect you within the hour.”

“Or what?” she asked drily before she pushed herself to her feet.

“I’m going to tell Tony you’ve been dying to do another _Red Dwarf_ marathon.”

She eyed him. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Then move your ass. Forget Maria and the super shady mission. We’ll figure it out later. We’ve got bigger fish to fry and Christmas to celebrate.”

They did. “We’ll be there soon… well soonish.”

“’ish?”

“Yes, I have to tell them what Maria said and that requires time for yelling, analysis, planning, and worry. But we’ll be there soonish.” Then she sighed. “Clint?”

“What’s up, Kid?”

“If it’s a trap, they may want you there to leverage you against me.”

“I know, but then we never said they were smart.” Clint was still chuckling as the hologram faded leaving her alone to head to the elevator.

“Where are they Friday?”

“Waiting for you on Captain Rogers’ floor.”

“Thanks for running interference.”

“Boss threatened to rewrite my code,” Friday admitted.

“He would never,” Natasha soothed her. “He adores his Baby Girl.”

“He worries about his Red…”

“You want me to beat him up?”

“No!” Friday said swiftly. “Though I wouldn’t be averse to a strong training session with severe muscle exhaustion after.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said with a smile. “Let me ask you something.”

“Anything.”

“Did you believe Maria?”

“All stress indicators suggested she was telling the truth. There were definite moments of evasion. When you confronted her with the evasions, she reacted badly, but her facial expressions indicated grief not cunning. Whatever she is holding back she seems to find genuinely upsetting, but I could not guess whether it is because she plans to betray you or because whatever she wants you to see will cause you harm.”

“Okay. Good answer. Did you believe her?”

The AI was quiet as the elevator doors opened for Natasha.

“I don’t know. I would not trust your well being in her hands.”

“Me neither. But I think she was telling truth—or as much as she could tell.”

“Will you go with her?”

The elevator began to ascend toward Steve’s floor. “Not without Clint, but I don’t know yet. Risk versus reward.”

“Yet, you’re curious.”

“Guilty. I like knowing things and I really like knowing things about myself.”

The elevator slowed. “Natasha?”

“I’ll be all right Friday. If I go, you’re going with me…” She held up the bracelet.

“Good.” The single syllable answer made her smile.

When the doors open to Steve’s floor, three concerned gazes struck her. Yep, soonish sounded about right. But they could talk about it while she showered. She was getting itchy not to mention here was blood in her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience guys! I'm back. Had a great visit with my kiddo and then massive storms hit the area last night including a bad tornado. Passed close by but we're secure. Just have to deal with clean-up today.


	31. Asset Management

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And what we see is true, from a certain point of view...

**Chapter Thirty-One**

_Asset Management_

**Friday**

“You actually buying this crap, Red?” Boss asked, leaning against the wall outside her bathroom. Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes hadn’t been happy with Natasha’s choice to brief while she took a shower, but the sheer volume of dust and dirt streaming off of her indicated she should have made the choice to shower earlier.

Samples collected from Boss’s suit and an analysis of the particulates didn’t indicate any dangerous toxins or substances, but Friday continued to run it against all known hazardous substances. The sludge had been an unknown substance and it had created numerous problems for them. For Natasha. Her input was necessary.

Friday performed wellness checks on Natasha’s vitals. Comparison scans brought up a similar briefing following Natasha’s B.A.R.F. now identified as S.P.A.R.K. induced coma in Switzerland. The similarities were a false positive. Different situation.

~*~

“Friday?” Lila Barton asked.

“Yes, Miss Barton?” Friday zoomed in on the little girl standing outside of Natasha’s rooms at the Compound.

“Is Auntie Nat coming today?”

“I believe so, Miss Barton. She indicated they would be heading to the Compound shortly.”

“Is she bringing Peter?”

“I am uncertain. Would you like me to ask Mr. Parker?” She could have asked Natasha, but Natasha was currently detailing the rest of her conversation with Ms. Hill.

“Yes, Please!”

~*~

“Mr. Parker,” Friday found him sitting on the foot of his bed on Natasha’s floor, a towel around his hips and his damp hair askew, while he texted.

_Current active threads: May Parker _(Verified)_, Cooper Barton _(Verified)_, Liz Toomes _(Verified), _and Ned Leeds _(Verified)_._

“Yes, Friday?”

“Miss Barton is inquiring whether you will be joining Natasha and Boss at the Compound?”

“I was just asking Aunt May. They still haven’t been able to get relief staff in and the hospital is pretty busy.”

Friday routed searches for road clearances, snow depth, storm forecasts, and then cross-accessed her way into the employee database for Mercy General.

~*~

“Do you believe her, Doll?” Sergeant Barnes inquired as Natasha finished her explanation.

_Vitals: Green. Injury assessment: Minor contusions. Hairline laceration. _Friday zeroed in on the cut and magnified. Nearly three inches in length, reopened thanks to the shower. Natasha grimaced as she pressed a hand to it.

_Boss,_ Friday notified him of Natasha’s injury, listing it as minor, then recommended liquid skin to close it.

“I don’t disbelieve her, but I know she’s not telling us everything.” Natasha stepped out of the shower and Captain Rogers handed her a towel, then frowned at her forehead. “It’s a cut. It just keeps getting opened up. Mostly cause I had to wash the dirt out of it.”

He nodded and lifted a hand questioningly. Natasha’s vitals held steady until he tilted her head so he could get a good look. Minor spikes appeared. The panic response had improved, but continued to be an issue.

~*~

A call came through the main switchboard, the number listed under known contacts.

“Yes, Doctor Strange, how may assist you?”

“Is Natasha available? I need to talk to her.”

“One moment.”

~*~

“Well, I don’t like it,” Boss stated. “Everything about the idea is fishy.”

“I’m sorry, Angel, I agree with Tony,” Captain Rogers admitted.

“And you know just how bad something has to be if all three of us agree it’s a terrible idea,” Boss stated.

“I didn’t say I agreed,” Sergeant Barnes mused. “But I don’t disagree either.”

Boss rolled his eyes.

Natasha strode out of the bathroom in a towel and Boss tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. The blood trickling from the laceration had slowed again. “I didn’t say it was a good idea.”

“You’re curious,” Captain Rogers stated.

“A little,” Natasha admitted, pulling items of clothing from the drawers before vanishing into her closet. Tracking showed her flipping through the latest t-shirts Friday had moved in after they were out for the mission. Boss had ordered quite a few new ones.

“Natasha?” Friday had waited for a moment her intrusion wouldn’t cut someone off.

“What’s up, Friday?” She studied the shirts.

_Don’t flatter yourself. I only look up to you because I’m short._

She flipped the shirt off, but grinned.

“Doctor Strange is on the line, he would like to talk to you.”

_Save water. Drink vodka._

“Oh just great,” Boss groaned. The men had all taken turns showering while they waited for her. “Did he say why, Baby Girl?”

“No, Boss. Just indicated he needed to talk to Natasha.”

“Talk to me on the phone or show up here?” Her tone was far more patient and all her vitals had returned to green.

_I may be wrong, but it’s highly unlikely._

“I’ll check, one moment.”

~*~

“Please stand by, Miss Barton. Mr. Parker has just gotten out of the shower. If you want to go and play, I will alert you as soon as he responds.”

“Okay… um, Miss Friday?”

“Yes, Miss Barton?”

“I’m not supposed to bother Auntie Nat or anyone else this way can you not tell my mom and dad I was asking?”

“I am afraid if they inquire directly, I will have to notify them. But if they do not ask, I do not see why I would need to inform them.”

“Okay! Thanks!”

~*~

“Mr. Parker, the weather indicates another storm front is likely to bring more snow and ice in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. If we can help transport the relief crew, we could get your aunt home.”

“Seriously?” He gawked as he stood.

“Of course, I can make the arrangements. It could take a couple of hours…”

“Um, yeah,” He scratched his chest then looked at his phone, frowning.

“You seem distressed.” His vitals were elevating, respiration and pulse were rising mildly, but he’d flushed.

“I’m not—okay maybe I am. I—if we can get May home that would be great. She and I can spend Christmas together.” The statement seemed incomplete. Natasha had explained once that people tended to edit themselves from making uncomfortable admissions they didn’t want to recognize.

“But?” The response fell within acceptable parameters to extract further explanation.

With a sigh, Mr. Parker dropped the phone on the bed and walked over to his duffle bag. He’d brought clothes, but it had been a few days and his duffle was empty.

“Your laundry has been done and there are new clothes in the closet for you, Mr. Parker.”

That earned another shocked look as he craned around to find one of her cameras. Pupil constriction and flaring nostrils indicated a mild panic reaction. “Who…?”

“Boss and Natasha want you to be comfortable.”

He opened the closet and stared. There were several new t-shirts, a few picked out by Boss, some by Natasha, and two Friday had selected. He chose one of Boss’s shirts and laughed.

_Math, it’s all fun and games until someone divides by zero._

“This is so cool…and…” He dragged the shirt on and then found the clean boxers and briefs in the drawer. Pajamas were in the one below that. Socks in the one next to it. There were now also two suits hanging in the closet, along with a selection of jeans and sweats. Shorts and other workout gear filled the bottom two drawers.

A modified set of tools for his web-shooters and suit maintenance had been added to the desk in his room and Natasha suggested a small lab to be attached if he needed a workshop. Boss had that in the design stages. Prior to Mr. Parker’s use of the room, it had sat empty. According to her records it had once belonged to Mr. Barton, but he had his own floor now.

“Mr. Parker? What’s wrong?” Real distress markers had begun to show, if they continued, she would notify Natasha.

“Friday—have you ever wanted two things really badly but you can’t have both and when you thought you didn’t have to choose it was great, but now that there’s a choice?”

“I am uncertain if I have faced a similar conflict, Mr. Parker. However, I would advise you to talk to Natasha if you are truly troubled.”

“I don’t know if it would be fair to burden her with this.”

“I don’t believe she would see it as a burden. She is very fond of you. When Boss needs someone to confide in, she is usually his first choice.”

“I think Tony has a crush on her,” he admitted. “I just kind of wish she had a crush on him, too.”

“You don’t like Captain Rogers or Sergeant Barnes?”

Mr. Parker reddened. “I do—and I think they’re great, I mean…mostly great.”

Friday digested that bit of disapproval. “In what way are they not good to her?”

Squirming, Mr. Parker folded his arms and lifted his shoulders. “They really made her mad at the party. If she hadn’t been mad and walked away… maybe she wouldn’t…maybe she wouldn’t have been taken.”

Analyzing the logic, Friday found several flaws. Primarily… “Boss was not blameless at the party.” Then because protocol would not let her venture too far down that path with Mr. Parker and it was not useful, she continued, “Relationships are complicated. Each one is unique, an algorithm that requires constant massaging of if/then statements to avoid a circular loop or frozen response.”

He snorted. “I get that. I just want to spend Christmas with them—and with my aunt. And I can’t do both. I guess that makes me selfish.”

“Ask, Mr. Parker,” Friday advised. “You can only ask. Now would you like me to investigate getting your aunt home for Christmas so we can provide young Miss Barton with an answer?”

His ears went red and his face flushed, though his vitals dipped back into the normal range. Panic averted. The research on panic attacks she’d been conducting seemed to be paying off especially since both Boss and Natasha suffered from them.

“Yeah, I would. And Friday?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, I am glad to offer assistance.”

~*~

“Doctor Strange, Natasha asked if you need to speak to her via the phone or pay the call in person?”

“I’d like to visit in person,” he said, his tone dry and holding elements Friday’s vocal analyzer identified as mild sarcasm. “If she wants to go into collapsing buildings, I want to make sure her head is still intact.”

“I will pass along the message, please hold.”

~*~

Natasha tugged out a t-shirt that said _My brain has too many tabs open_ and laughed. The sound cut off Boss mid-tirade.

“…you think this is funny?” His tone wavered between furious and hurt. His vitals were elevated, but not dangerously so.

“Tony,” Captain Rogers chastised him.

“Sure do, Shellhead. I think it’s hilarious.” Natasha dressed, choosing the tab shirt, before walking out of the closet. “The shirt is a riot.”

Sergeant Barnes glared at Boss and Captain Rogers merely sighed. An analysis of Sergeant Barnes reaction against Boss’ behavior did not reveal an immediate cause for irritation. Friday factored in the shirt then identified the saying as being the possible source. Leaving a bookmark with a note, Friday sent the report to Natasha’s email for further explanation. Cross-referencing autonomic responses and interaction files revealed more conflicting data. Resolution and understanding required further input.

“Okay, in retrospect,” Boss backpedaled verbally.

“No, not in retrospect. It’s funny.” Natasha seemed genuinely amused. No distress in evidence.

“Angel, can we patch that up now?” Captain Rogers motioned to her head and she nodded. The bleeding had slowed but heat scans showed a mild pooling just below the wound’s surface. Friday would need x-rays to determine if it was a significant injury, but currently Natasha showed no signs of concussion.

“Yes…”

“Doctor Strange would like to speak to you in person,” Friday inserted the answer in the brief lull. “I believe he is vexed with the rescue efforts. He commented on you running into collapsing buildings.”

“Oh joy,” Natasha said with a dry look to the three standing in her bedroom. “Someone else to yell at me and tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“We’re not yelling,” Captain Rogers said, his tone mild. “I considered it, but you made the right call and Buck went in after you when you didn’t show up with that family.”

“I don’t seem to be yelling about anything other than you spending time with someone who has already proven they can manipulate you, Red,” Boss informed her. “There’s reckless and then there’s plain stupid.”

“Tony,” Sergeant Barnes snapped and his tone held real warning. Boss raised his hands.

“I just said there’s a difference, not that she was being stupid—yet.” The last just made Natasha roll her eyes.

Boss grew aggressive when he worried and right now, former Deputy Director Hill concerned him a great deal.

“Down here, Common Room or Penthouse?” Natasha asked ignoring the last bit.

Captain Rogers scrubbed a hand over his face, then glanced at Sergeant Barnes, but it was Boss who said, “He doesn’t need access to where you sleep. Penthouse is fine. We need to eat and get out of here soon.”

~*~

“Friday,” Mr. Barton snagged her attention. “Have those slowpokes left the Tower yet?”

“No, Mr. Barton, Doctor Strange has asked to see Natasha and Mr. Parker is making arrangements with his aunt.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake…”

“Clint,” Mrs. Barton said, her tone chiding.

He sighed and then glanced at his watch before he pulled out his phone.

[Text Message to Sergeant Barnes]: We can look at both places today, but we need to get moving if we want to see them and make it back for dinner. Have cover.

[Text Message to Mr. Barton]: Stand by. Doc wants to see Natalia then heading that way. What are your thoughts on Hill’s offer?

[Text Message to Sergeant Barnes]: Shady as fuck, that said, Nat thinks she’s being truthful. Have to trust Nat on this one. I’ll be there.

[Text Message to Mr. Barton]: Injectable isotope for tracking?

Friday checked the reference files. Slow decay over forty-eight hours, not harmful, and hard to scan for without the proper equipment.

[Text Message to Sergeant Barnes]: I didn’t know you cared, Bucky. Gotta say, I’m touched.

[Test Message to Mr. Barton]: <a middle finger emoji>

Mr. Barton laughed as he stared at his phone and Mrs. Barton leaned in so she could see. He turned the screen and a snicker escaped her as she read the text chain. “Oh, Nat’s being a wonderful influence on him.”

“Who says it isn’t me?” Mr. Barton asked, his expression droll.

“True. Do I have to share you with a second Russian assassin? People will talk.” Her vitals spiked. Despite the lightness of her tone, anxiety ran beneath the surface.

Threading an arm around her waist, Mr. Barton dragged her into his lap and Mrs. Barton made no show of resisting as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Barton’s Home for Wayward Assassins is now full. Besides, Nat prefers to look after him personally.”

Gradually, she relaxed as Mr. Barton drew her closer. Their respiration and pulses both increased. Vital signs and heat elevating.

Their lips hovered close together when the youngest Barton let out a cry as he woke.

_Vitals check, fever at 99.8, reduced from 101. Phlegmy sound to breathing. Respiration troubled, but no longer_ _strained. Treatment with mentholated, warm humid air effective._

_“_Duty calls,” Mr. Barton told her and then kissed her lightly before standing with her in his arms as she let out a surprised laugh. With care, he set her back in his chair. “Let me know when they are on their way, Friday?”

“I will, Mr. Barton. Young Mr. Barton’s condition appears improved and he is due for another dose of the baby Tylenol.”

“Thank you, Friday.”

“Of course, Mr. Barton.”

~*~

“Baby Girl, let Strange know we’re ready for him,” Boss informed her from the kitchen of the Penthouse. Fresh coffee brewed while Captain Rogers had pulled out the items to make sandwiches. She passed along the message, adding five minutes to let them get their food ready. They all needed to eat.

“Look,” Natasha was saying. “I’m not going into this blind. Telling me Clint is included works two-fold, it gives me someone there I can trust that she’s willing to share this secret or whatever with. We’ve walked into lots of bad situations and walked back out again. At the same time, it also could be used as leverage. She wouldn’t let go of the idea I always chose him over her.”

“He’s your best friend, Doll,” Sergeant Barnes dabbed at the injury along her hairline and then began to apply the butterflies to keep it closed. “But she seems to be under the impression you’re more.”

“She doesn’t know,” Captain Rogers said abruptly, and he shared an enigmatic look with Boss. Friday ran it through all of her files, but didn’t find a definition for Captain Rogers’ look. Boss’ expression, however, was a combination of amusement and delight.

“She thinks you’re still with Clint?” For some reason, it made Boss laugh.

“I told you, we compartmentalized who knew about Laura, it was Clint and Fury—then me. Coulson knew, but he never visited. He had to know—for notification purposes. It was a small circle. It’s nice to think Fury’s kept it that way.” The disappointment in her tone had Friday checking facial recognition reports.

Anytime Director Fury appeared on the grid, she tracked him.

“Do you think there’s a real chance she could try to use Clint for leverage?” Boss asked, his expression growing stern.

“Possibly, but I don’t think that’s her game. If it is…” Natasha lifted her left wrist. “She’s going to be surprised. I’m planning on taking Friday in with us, too.”

“Works unless the place is a Faraday Cage,” Boss commented. “There are other things we can do.”

“Right now, it’s not important,” Natasha continued. “The holidays, Wakanda, Montana, Mary—those are the priorities. “

“I don’t like the idea of that other machine being out there,” Boss mused aloud.

“Agreed,” Captain Rogers slid the plates to each of them just as internal alarms went off as the golden circle appeared just behind the sofa. All sensors redirected, Friday studied the readouts. The energy signature had become familiar but didn’t fit any known quantum pattern. Each time he arrived, however, allowed her to gather more data.

~*~

“Friday,” Mr. Parker summoned her attention. “I’m going to the Compound, if you’d let Lila know. I texted Coop, he’s almost done with his present for his parents but he needs some help.”

She cycled through the monitoring. Young Mr. Barton had been putting together a holo-frame using some of the Boss’ tech and referring to the instruction manuals. He wanted to load it with pictures of the family so that Mr. Barton had it at the Compound and Mrs. Barton had it at the farm.

Most recent drone intelligence reported the farm remained secure and unoccupied. She increased the frequency of checks when the family was in residence, but during their visits here she relied on the motion sensors in the house, barn, and gate in between sweeps.

“And the status of your aunt?”

“Even if we can get relief staff in there, she isn’t comfortable leaving them to be potentially trapped if I’m going to be safe with the Avengers.” Disappointment edged his tone. “Is Ms. Hill gone? I need to ask Natasha if we can do something for May for Christmas.”

“Yes, she has departed. Natasha is currently with Boss, Captain Rogers, and Sergeant Barnes to meet with Doctor Strange.”

“The wizard doc is back?” Mr. Parker’s vitals spiked. “Was Natasha hurt today in that building? She looked fine when she came out—well dirty, but fine.”

“Natasha is well, Mr. Parker. A small laceration. They did not call for the doctor, he asked for a meeting.”

He stuffed his feet in his shoes. “Can I go up?”

~*~

The cloak zoomed out of the portal and headed straight for Natasha. She eyed it as it dipped behind her and turned sideways. Boss squinted then smothered a chuckle even as Captain Rogers laughed.

Doctor Strange stepped through the portal and sent it away with a second gesture before tugging off his ring. He’d gotten very good at removing it as soon as he arrived, though Natasha’s vitals no longer spiked at the first sign of it.

Friday made a notation. This demonstrated positive improvement. Captain Rogers had been researching methods to help her with the PTSD and aversion. If the ring theory held, Sergeant Barnes also needed to be notified. The ring he’d ordered had arrived. He had been searching for some time and it would please him to be able to give it to her.

The cloak also defied energy scans. It behaved with near sentience, yet didn’t register as a life form. Friday was not fond of _magic_. It lacked rational coding for analysis.

“Coffee?” Boss offered, but the doctor shook his head as he stared directly at Natasha.

“See,” Natasha said to Sergeant Barnes. “Stephen’s pissed. I know that look. It’s probably going to start something like—”

“Being clever doesn’t prevent head injuries, Natasha,” Doctor Strange stated, the dry note offering the barest hint of derision. In the time since he called, he seemed to have diminished the amount of sarcasm he employed. “Not running into falling buildings does.”

She eyed him for a moment, sandwich in her hands. “In my defense, I didn’t run into a collapsing building. It was stable when I went in.”

The humor on Captain Rogers’, Sergeant Barnes’, and Boss’ faces varied from exasperated to affectionate to just plain amused. Though they expressed similar thoughts while Natasha spoke to Ms. Hill, they refrained from repeating them to her.

“Not hovering,” Boss said. “Is a pain in the ass.”

“Not having Natalia would be worse,” Sergeant Barnes pointed out.

Captain Rogers ended the discussion with, “We don’t have to like it but she had a damn good reason. We leave it alone.” Though his vitals didn’t agree with his sentiment.

Friday considered the readings she’d taken from the bracelet after Natasha re-emerged; she’d lost contact for a brief time once Natasha went into the basement. The bracelets Boss had ready to build should correct for this behavior and amplify signal reach.

“Excuse me, Natasha,” Friday intruded before Doctor Strange could add more to his scolding. “Mr. Parker would like to know if he could join you.”

She paused mid-bite, her expression considering, but focused on Doctor Strange. “Are you just here to yell at me? Or do you have something more you want to talk to me about?”

“Both—and I want to examine the head wound.” The cloak peeked out from behind her. Doctor Strange gave it an exasperated look before it ducked back down. “I’m not actually yelling at you, however, I would prefer you refrain from dangerous injuries while under my care and supervision.”

Natasha said nothing she merely stared at him.

“Fine, under my care then,” the doctor conceded. “I have also spoken to Shuri in Wakanda as well as your Dr. Cho. Between us and with Mr. Stark’s assistance, we think we have a plan.”

“Oh, that’s encouraging,” she murmured before taking a drink. “Yes, Friday, it’s fine, Peter can join us but warn him there will likely be medical jargon going on and if you could let Clint know we’re probably going to be late.”

Sergeant Barnes frowned, his gaze going from Natasha to the doctor then back.

“Mr. Barton is aware, Natasha, but he would prefer that you arrive sooner than later.”

“Well, Stephen, do you mind if we take your discussion on the road?”

“Do you mind if I look at that wound before we do?”

She rolled her eyes and took another bite of her sandwich before wiping her mouth and facing him. Hands wide.

Friday notified Mr. Parker he could join them and he headed straight for the elevator.

Doctor Strange approached, his gaze intent as she tilted her head so he could see the long, albeit thin laceration. “Is there any tenderness around it?”

“Well it doesn’t feel great, but it’s a cut. It’ll heal. Nothing hit me in the head. James had me covered when the worst came down.”

The doctor nodded and the cloak leaned around her as though peering at the cut as well. “Is it possible for you to avoid those situations? At least for the time being? We don’t need to invite more problems.”

“Wasn’t intending to invite this one. But we had a job to do.”

He nodded once. “Out of intellectual curiosity, how long until that’s fully healed?”

“I don’t know—a day, two tops? Maybe. Cuts tend to heal faster as long as I’m not nursing anything major. Like I said, the worst I got was a dust and dirt bath.”

A quick scan indicated no hot spots, so Natasha wasn’t downplaying her injuries.

While Stephen did not seem wholly satisfied, he nodded again. “I can join you for the ride to the Compound, but I have no wish to intrude too long.”

Mr. Parker joined them for a quick sandwich and Natasha finished hers and their coffee as Doctor Strange began his brief.

Friday began to run the numbers… analyzing the data he provided.

“We’re looking at stimulating the damaged areas of the brain but minimizing the reflex shock of having too much happen at once while also allowing you to process the memories you receive. It’s a two-pronged approach, well, three-pronged…”

Friday tracked them to the quinjet then began running the pre-systems checks as Natasha slid into the pilot’s chair. It was not at all unusual for her to handle the majority of the flying. She or Mr. Barton. While nearly everyone else on the team was certified to fly the quinjet, she flew most times unless medical injury or necessity precluded it. Psychological profile indicated a need to exert control in addition to her certifications.

“One area we have all agreed on is the process to reinjure these areas and to accelerate the healing will cause excruciating pain,” Doctor Strange continued as they settled with Natasha in the pilot’s chair. “The sensitivity, the number of nerve endings, the fact it’s going to involve actually regenerating brain tissue will all contribute to the discomfort. Combined with the psychological stress of accessing blocked memories of which we remain somewhat uncertain of the content or the level of stress they will trigger…”

“Tony suggested a coma,” Natasha mentioned, her expression thoughtful. “Shuri mentioned cryo.”

Mr. Parker flinched at the first suggestion, but Sergeant Barnes rested a hand on his shoulder as Boss leaned forward. The tests to combine the serum via their blood had not gone successfully as yet. They had tried a few different sample simulations the latest involved separating white and red blood cells, then attempting different combinations.

“A medically-induced coma is one option, but we’re looking at a serious drug cocktail to get you into that state.”

“Oh. Joy.”

“I recognize these are not comfortable topics,” Doctor Strange said. He did not add in light of her history, though Natasha had briefed him on it and had Friday share her full medical file. Editing the content was likely for the benefit of their audience, in this case Mr. Parker, rather than anything else.

Natasha would appreciate the care rather than candor where the teenager was concerned.

“However, a coma could limit your ability to process the information and memories, leaving them to swamp you all at once upon waking…”

Captain Rogers looked at Sergeant Barnes. Her reports indicated he experienced a surge all at once and it had been a difficult adjustment.

“In addition to trauma, there is a chance at confusing memories and they can take time to sort out.”

“So asleep I wake dazed and confused and awake, I’m in pain. Not really feeling the new options here, Stephen.”

Mr. Parker frowned and glanced at Sergeant Barnes. The sergeant gave his shoulder a squeeze and nodded.

Natasha did not want to expose Mr. Parker to these concerns, but the teen had made his own objections to being cut out clear. On the surface, it appeared she was allowing his involvement without submersing him too deeply.

“It’s why we want to try combining all of these ideas—the use of S.P.A.R.K. will help to try and guide the flow of information by stimulating the hippocampus, implanting electrodes to stimulate the periaqueductal gray matter and periventricular gray matter can help reduce the pain—in theory—we have seen a great deal of success in case studies. This allows us to mitigate the pain without narcotics, of which you’d have to take large amounts…”

As Doctor Strange laid out the plan, Friday pieced it together. There were a dozen studies on periaqueductal gray matter and stimulation for pain management, she compiled them into a report and provided it to Natasha and the Boss.

Instead of deep cryo, Shuri had recommended a state of light cryo where Natasha’s body temperature would be gradually lowered allowing the activation not only of her serum, but also to preserve her organs in the event of severe shock. In the past, Natasha used ice baths to increase the efficacy and efficiency of her serum. That could have benefits. Using a combination of sonic waves and electricity, they’d target the specific area.

Ideally, they would perform it all in stages, starting small, testing her responses. Then moving to larger areas. This would give them the best chance for adjustment as they went along.

The silence when he finished was not encouraging.

Friday ran simulations on neuro-stimulation based on the studies. They would need to isolate and stimulate several different areas of her brain simultaneously while also maintaining her core temperature several degrees below normal, monitoring autonomic functions, introducing MDMA to ease the psychological trauma while also allowing whatever memories defragged in the process. What about corrupted memory?

The basis of Natasha’s memory loss was largely due to mass deletion and reformatting. The human mind, however ingenuous, was not designed for such tasks.

“I’m aware this seems like a lot…”

“It sounds like experimentation, Stephen,” Natasha said as she set them down on the landing platform at the Compound. “I’m not really a big fan of this.”

“I’m aware, this time, however, it’s also your choice. You will be in control. You will make the decisions. This also means if you do not want to continue, we stop when you say stop…”

Unless they compromised the integrity of her mental structure or the architecture of her brain itself. This was not a binary result.

“Unless?” Natasha prompted. “Because you make it sound like it’s yes or no, but it won’t be once we begin.”

She turned the pilot’s seat to meet his gaze. Captain Rogers’ expression remained troubled as did Boss’ and Mr. Parker’s. Sergeant Barnes’ read as far more stoic though she had no matches to interpret his actual facial expression.

“Between the four of us, as long as Mr. Stark is still willing to be involved—”

“She’s not doing this without me,” Boss stated implacably. “I’m also not sold on the methodology. It’s an awful lot of direct stimulation to put into place and hope that we can control it.”

“Agreed, if we were only using the technology available to us here, I would be wary of even attempting it without a clear plan to fall back on in the event of an unforeseen side-effect.”

Head tilted back, Natasha studied the doctor. “You feel confident?”

“In as much as anyone can be confident in a situation like this, Natasha. You asked for my help, this is our plan. I’ll be going over it in more detail when we go to Wakanda… Shuri and her brother have extended the invitation.”

The cloak inched forward and brushed a corner over Natasha’s hand and she eyed it. The fact it had tagged along hadn’t been lost on any of them, in particular Doctor Strange, who gave the cloak a rather impatient look.

“You’re not helping,” he told it and the cloak actually flicked an edge almost dismissively and turned its back on the doctor.

Natasha chuckled. “We’re going to have to talk about this more, Stephen, but—at the moment, as far as I’m concerned, we’re still planning to head to Wakanda a few days after Christmas. There are a couple of matters we need to attend to before we go.”

“Try to avoid any head injuries in the meanwhile?”

“You know… I don’t generally go looking for them.”

Boss snorted.

The conversation continued for another few minutes, then Doctor Strange and his cloak bid them farewell as he opened another portal. “Natasha… if at any point you want to talk about this, you’re more than welcome to come here.”

“Where would here be?”

“177A Bleecker Street,” he replied. “Knock on the door. You’ll be admitted.”

“That sounds suspiciously like she’ll be admitted and no one else,” Boss stated.

“Then it sounds exactly as I intended it. Mr. Stark. Captain Rogers. Sergeant Barnes. Peter.” He nodded to each one in turn. Then he stepped through his portal. The cloak waved at Natasha before it ducked through the opening to follow.

Friday checked the energy output. The readings offered no new data for determining the portal’s origin or operation. She added to the compiled pages.

“Natasha,” Mr. Parker said slowly after the Doctor departed. “Are you really going to let them—experiment?”

“Not my favorite thing, not by a long shot,” Natasha replied. “But if it nets me the goal, then it might be worth it. I trust at least some of the people involved.”

Mr. Parker glanced at Boss, who merely sighed. “I’m still not wholly convinced.”

“Nor am I,” Captain Rogers admitted. “I thought—Shuri was so certain and Strange and now…”

“How can they be certain, Stevie?” Sergeant Barnes said. “There are no other cases like this. Natalia is unique.”

Natasha offered nothing, her expression thoughtful. Though her vitals had spiked at least three times during the conversation, she seemed calm at the moment.

Elsewhere Mr. Barton asked for an update and whether the doctor had delivered bad news.

Friday assured him that all appeared well and they would be leaving the quinjet shortly to join them inside.

As they exited the quinjet, Sergeant Barnes touched Natasha’s arm asking for a moment, then said, “Go ahead, we’ll catch up in a minute.”

Once they were alone, he studied her intently before saying; “Clint and I need to head out for a while. But I can stay if you need me here.”

“Did you make a date and not tell me?” Her tone was light, almost teasing and a bit relieved.

“Yes,” he said soberly. “But only for the afternoon.”

“Just make sure he brings you back in one piece—” She paused, then pressed her hand against his chest. “Are you okay?”

“No, I didn’t enjoy listening to the fact he isn’t certain nor realizing how much of it sounds like a slightly more humane version of the chair.”

“You caught that, too, huh?”

Friday referenced the chair, pulling up a detailed analysis of the chair along with the information compiled on its usage and effects then compared it to the information provided by Doctor Strange.

There _were_ similarities.

Putting the items together, she prepared them in a report for Boss. He would not like the comparison nor participation in something that might cause Natasha mental anguish. It was better to notify him now in order to prepare for alternatives.

Boss had just stepped inside when she ran the message to his glasses. He diverted away from the group and went to his office. Once inside, he closed the door and planted his hands on the desk. “Give me the full comparison, Baby Girl.”

She opened a holo screen and provided him with the data she’d detailed.

“Son of a bitch,” he swore. “Get that ass on the phone…”

Strange answered almost immediately. “Boss, Doctor Strange is on the line.”

“The whole time you laid this out, I thought there was something off about it. You two are using the chair to re-modify what it modified…”

“As a model only,” Doctor Strange replied in an even tone. “That machine is barbaric and its use even more so. Unfortunately, it’s also a guide to how the injuries were inflicted in the first place. Using it to give us guidance in undoing the damage is a reasonable result. Similar to how you want to take apart the second memory machine you located. The one used on her by SHIELD.”

Frowning, Boss said, “That’s going to take time. It’s—an intricate and evil design that actually uses probes in the brain tissue itself to target specific neural centers.”

“Which we both suspected after seeing it. Have you managed to download the blackbox and decipher the data?”

Friday shifted her attention to where a decryption algorithm continued to run. They had been at it for the last six hours to no direct results. She flashed a still working on Boss’ glasses.

He sighed. “We’re working on it.”

“Then I suggest you focus on your tasks and we will on ours. I would like to make this process as painless as possible, but I’m afraid we will have to take some risks in order to achieve her goals.”

“And if stimulating those areas triggers a psychological backlash?”

The doctor had no immediate answer. “Hopefully the MDMA can help as will your device—that was what you created it for…”

When the call ended, Boss sank back in his chair and stared at the holo screens.

“Where’s Red, Friday?”

A scan showed her walking toward the main compound with Sergeant Barnes. “She is on her way inside with Sergeant Barnes. She seems to have taken the news well.”

“Yeah, she always seems like she’s taking it well until she isn’t.” He rubbed his eyes.

“Boss—Natasha knows what she wants and I think she more than anyone else is very aware of the risks. She has lived with both the results and the interference from the beginning. We can second guess, but you know this is what she wants.”

“She wants her daughter—she wants the memories back, she wants to know all the things they made her do, but she wants her daughter.” He sighed. “Break that decryption Baby Girl, then let’s dig into S.P.A.R.K., we have copies of her brain scans both before and after B.A.R.F. Let’s see if we can fine-tune it to her specifically—and I want a secondary interface.”

“Boss?”

“If she gets sunk in those memories, I want a way to pull her out. Even if that means one of us has to go in…”

“The device would allow you to link Boss, but we don’t have anything that would allow to directly interface and become active in her memories.”

“No,” Boss said slowly. “But a link should do it, think of it as a lightning rod, a grounding point to pull her back to herself. It can be Bucky or Steve, she’d trust them even in that state.”

“She trusts you, too, Boss.”

“One step at a time, Baby Girl, one step at a time.”

“Have you ever considered just telling her?” Friday didn’t understand his reluctance to confront the issue. “She’s opened the door.”

“She also closed it, very pointedly, not that long ago. I’m not going to make her responsible for my attachments. Like I said, one thing at a time, we get her better, we find her daughter, we let her find some equilibrium. Those are the priorities. Understood?”

Friday checked on where Natasha held Lila in her arms for a hug, her respiration and pulse had both escalated, but remained within a steady range. Sergeant Barnes watched her with an expression Friday could only find a match as yearning. They both wanted their daughter back.

Search patterns running on a different server turned up multiple Marys born in and around 1972. Friday erred six months in either direction, in case, Natasha changed her birthdate. A separate search ran for Mary Rogers, but the handful she’d identified didn’t fit the other parameters. A third used facial recognition based on the scanned photo. The image she and Boss had color corrected an enhanced. The framed photo was awaiting her under Boss’ tree. Captain Rogers had requested an enhanced copy as well for his project.

Locating Natasha’s child would add a missing variable to solve a trouble algorithm that remained unequal and incomplete. Sergeant Barnes didn’t linger. He and Mr. Barton left, taking a vehicle. Their first destination location was roughly one hour north and east of the Compound.

The second was another hour by vehicle north. Close enough to ride in if they wished, but closer still for flights. Both Mr. Barton and Sergeant Barnes were concerned about whether the locations would slip through their fingers if they delayed, Friday contacted the real estate agent she’d procured to represent the properties and instructed her to be ready to show them. The instructions included fully negotiable terms, but allow the clients to make their own assessments. She was only to let them in.

Sergeant Barnes suspected she’d added the one house and she had, what they hadn’t guessed was she’d assessed the lists they’d both created and found the locations which met most if not all of Mr. Barton and Sergeant Barnes’ respective criteria and goals before securing the best possibilities against Nadja Rasmussen’s future salary. The process simply required adjusting a decimal and creating the paper trail. No one would track it and anyone attempting to would trigger one of her sniffers.

It was a matter of checks and balances. If they decided against them, she would release them back to the market, but each selection was appropriate for Natasha and the Barton family.

Her only concern was the Boss. He did not want Natasha moving out of the Tower and at the moment, Natasha had shown no indications she wanted to leave—so a safe house for periodic escape would not harm the delicate balance that had been achieved provided upgrades were added to allow Friday to continue monitoring. In the meanwhile, she had the bracelet…

“Focus up, Baby Girl, let’s get some work done before I go play games with the kids. Keep an eye on Red…”

She always had an eye on her and Natasha had allowed her to monitor her vitals 24/7.

“Of course, Boss.”


	32. Spider-to-Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha has long talks with Wanda and Peter

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

_Spider-to-Spider_

**Natasha**

The kids were wired. More presents lay under the tree in the Common Room and Lila talked a mile a minute about getting to help Wanda wrap presents and that she had a secret. For her part, Wanda just looked amused and held a finger up to her lips.

“I won’t tell her it’s—”

Natasha pressed a finger to Lila’s lips silencing her. “First rule of keeping a secret is?”

“Don’t tell anyone you _have_ a secret,” Coop declared, giving his sister a _look_. Lila stuck her tongue out at him.

Amused, Natasha balanced Lila against her hip. The little girl’s arms wrapped around her neck were both a blessing and a curse. Right now, she leaned on the blessing. “The second rule of keeping a secret?”

“Don’t admit what the secret is,” Coop sniffed.

With a huffed sigh, Lila pressed her head against her shoulder. “I just want to give you my present.”

“Two days, milaya devushka. Two days and everyone can open their presents.”

Peter grinned. “I’m getting excited, too. I can’t wait for you to—” He cut off as Lila and Coop whipped glares in his direction. Wanda smothered a laugh, then Peter’s grin redoubled as he finished, “—discover who else has secrets.”

With a groan, Lila tugged to be put down and Natasha set her on her feet. “That was terrible, Peter.”

“Yes,” Wanda agreed. “Quite terrible. But I liked it.”

He shot her an abashed grin and a flush touched Wanda’s cheeks. Peter was only a few years younger than her, but they were cute. Then again, Peter still pined for Liz and Wanda had her own issues.

But Natasha could see it.

“Peter, can you come help me finish…” Coop began.

“No,” Lila argued. “Peter is going to help me first.”

Flopping down on the sofa, Natasha crossed one leg over the other.

“He promised he would help and I only have a couple of questions,” Coop argued.

“But I called to make sure he was coming… and I need him to fix the thing for the other thing.” Lila put her hands on her hips, her expression mutinous.

“You don’t need him to fix the _thing_, I told you _I_ would help you.” With a dismissive wave, Coop added. “You just didn’t listen when I said I would.”

“I don’t _want_ you to help me, I want Peter…”

Peter glanced at her almost helplessly, but Natasha spread her hands. Wanda tilted her head, her gaze going from one child to the other then to Natasha in question, but Natasha shook her head.

“But I know how to do the thing and he’s busy, he doesn’t have time for babies like you.” Sometimes, the kids could resolve their conflicts on their own.

And sometimes they let their own hurt feelings get in the way.

Lila scowled, her hands dropping to her sides and her fists curling. “You take that back Cooper Phillip Barton.”

“Or what Lila Katherine Barton?” He actually managed to make her name sound like an insult.

It was impressive.

The tension between the two ramped a little higher and Lila stomped forward.

“Lila,” Natasha said quietly and the little girl halted immediately.

“But Auntie Nat…”

Natasha shook her head once. They split up once they’d come inside. James had left with Clint on his errand and Steve said he had to go and research whatever it was he’d lost in his wager to James for their spar. Neither would admit to her what the terms were, but she was content to wait and find out. Tony was in his office or his lab, but she hadn’t seen him since she and James came in. Laura was presumably with Nate and that had left Nat with the kids, including Wanda and Peter.

Arms folded, Lila’s lower lip jutted and Coop managed to look smug until he caught Natasha’s eye and then his expression faded.

“Peter…” Natasha said, glancing at him. “What would you like to do?”

He glanced from her to the kids, then said, “I wanted to work with you, but I promised Coop I’d help him with something and then we can both help Lila, how does that sound?”

It was splitting the difference and the kids glanced at each other then nodded.

“Does that work for you, Natasha?”

“Find me when you’re ready,” she told him and he grinned. There was tautness around his eyes, something had been bothering him and it wasn’t just Stephen’s medical advice. “As for you two…” She switched her attention to the Barton children. “No more arguing over who deserves or should get more attention. Help each other, that’s what a team does.”

“Okay,” Lila said. “Can I work with you later, too?”

“It depends on what you want to work on.”

Lila grinned, her eyes sparkling. “It’s a secret.”

Everyone laughed.

“C’mon,” Peter said holding his hand out and Lila bounced over to take it. “Coop, lead the way.”

Then they were off and Wanda moved over to fall onto the sofa next to her. The quiet in their absence was intense. “How are you doing?”

“Not too bad,” Natasha admitted. “Busy morning.”

They had a couple of hours before dinner. “No ill-effects from the collapse?”

She shook her head. “Nothing a long shower and couple of butterfly Band-Aids couldn’t fix. How about you? You were managing to keep a couple of buildings upright for a long time.”

“Headache,” Wanda admitted. “But not bad. I’ve definitely had worse.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “It’s already fading, it was just uncomfortable for a while.”

“Good,” Natasha murmured, then reached over to stroke the lock of hair away from her face and then tucked it behind her ear. “You did amazing out there.”

“You couldn’t even see me,” Wanda denied, though a blush warmed her cheeks.

“Didn’t have to,” she reminded the younger woman. “We were on comms. You kept calm, you didn’t panic or let fear drive your decisions. You followed orders and amended the ones that wouldn’t have worked because you know how your gift works better than we do.” It was all a learning curve, but sometimes Wanda seemed capable of the truly impossible. Steve and Natasha were both loath to push her too far.

“I didn’t keep my calm when that building went down and you didn’t answer.” Wanda grimaced. “Steve had to order me to hold position while Peter and Tony got you out.”

“Did you disobey the order?”

“Well, no.” She frowned.

Natasha shrugged. “Do you know how many times I’ve disobeyed Steve’s orders when he told me to hold position?”

A faint smile curled Wanda’s lips. “Probably more than you should admit.”

“Oh, I have no problems admitting it. Sometimes you have to trust your gut. You held position, you trusted your team.”

It had taken Natasha a long time to get there. Some days, she still felt like she was in the shadows assessing them all and making preparations to get the job done. Those days were fewer and further in between. More, she focused on protecting all of them and protecting them meant immersing herself. These people trusted her and she wouldn’t let them down.

“You did good, take the compliment.”

Ducking her chin, Wanda twisted her hands together. Unease prickled over Natasha’s skin at the dark rings on Wanda’s fingers, but Natasha braced an arm against the back of the sofa, head propped against her fist as she studied her. Wanda was her friend.

Wanda had not tortured her.

_Except Wanda ripped open the Red Room…_ The nasty little voice deserved a punch in the face and Natasha shut it down. “What’s wrong?”

Mouth tightening, Wanda met her gaze. “I should be asking you that.”

“Well, too late, I asked first,” Natasha told her with a hint of a smile. It worked, disarming some of the other woman’s trepidation.

“Dammit,” Wanda laughed. “How do you do that?”

“It’s a talent, now what’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, she swung her gaze around and then glanced up. “Friday?”

“Yes, Miss Maximoff?”

“No one’s on their way in here are they? We have privacy?”

“Currently all other residents and occupants of the Compound are elsewhere, the closest is Boss and he’s in his office. He’s also preoccupied. You should have privacy for at least the next ten to fifteen minutes. Would you like me to notify you if someone is heading this way?”

The bit about Tony had been for her. Friday was concerned about something regarding him or she wouldn’t have said it. Natasha glanced toward one of the cameras and nodded.

“Yes, please,” Wanda said, then focused on Natasha again.

“I’ll take care of it, Miss Maximoff.”

“Now that we have that sorted,” Natasha prompted the younger woman. “What’s going on?”

Wanda sighed. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.

“But you didn’t always.”

“No.” She saw no need to sugar coat it.

“Why do you trust me now?”

“Because you earned it,” Natasha said with a shrug. “You’re haunted by bad choices. But you’ve more than paid the price for those and you’re trying to use what happened to you to help others. You’re here. You could have stayed in Sokovia. You could have gone off the grid and ignored the world. Instead, you came back here where you face the same consequences as the rest of us. You have owned your actions and you strive to improve.”

Wanda’s eyes widened even as she parted her lips and then closed them again. Tears welled in her eyes and she glanced away. “I never…I didn’t realize.”

“Didn’t realize what?”

“Just… I’m the reason Ultron got away with the vibranium…and I’m the reason Wakanda backed the Accords and we were suddenly in their crosshairs. Those—all of that is on me.”

“Sweetheart,” Natasha told her, reaching over to take her hand and ignoring where the rings pressed against her own fingers. “You believed Ultron because you were desperate to believe in something. Right or wrong, it happened. But you and your brother both—you wanted to avenge yourselves and to make right what had been done to you. You weren’t willing to go to his extremes and in the end, we might not have stopped him without you. As for the Accords… They didn’t happen overnight. Power is about control and he who has the biggest bomb has the power. The Avengers have the biggest bomb and the whole world knows it. They’ve known it since New York. It’s what Nick wanted. He wanted the world to know we were a force to be reckoned with—the World Council sought to limit us as much as they could, but then it turns out they were also backing Hydra agents whether they knew it or not.”

Giving her hand a squeeze, Natasha held her gaze. “You’re still learning, training, and working to be your best self. The rest of that? The rest of that is noise.”

_I’ve got red in my ledger…_

“Then why won’t you let me help you?” Wanda asked, her wet gaze searching. “Why not ask me for help?”

Who the fuck had told her?

She clutched at Natasha’s fingers as if worried she would pull her hand away. But Natasha’s training didn’t allow her to jerk irresponsibly or betray a flinch. More, Wanda didn’t deserve that reaction.

“You’re not going in my mind,” Natasha told her evenly, keeping her tone calm. “I made my feelings on that clear after what happened in the salvage yard.” When Wanda had ripped open a dark corner and let the Red Room bleed through. Some of those memories she’d had, but not all of them. The procedure rooms, the ice-cold tables, the inhumanity in their eyes as they prepared her for yet another _procedure_ and the pain. Always the pain.

The attempt to fail her graduation—_that_ she’d forgotten. For some split-second, her humanity had asserted itself but hadn’t been able to stand up to the monsters that raised her. No, she’d passed her graduation and caught James’ eye.

Maybe there had been silk in Hell after all.

Shaking her head, she refocused on Wanda.

“But you’re struggling—it’s why you’re seeing the doctor, why you’re looking at procedures to help…”

“Whom have you been talking to?”

Then she recognized the answer without Wanda saying anything.

“Laura.”

Surprise flared in Wanda’s eyes. “Don’t be angry with her.”

She wasn’t just… it wasn’t in Laura to leave something alone if she thought she could help. That was why she was involved in her group and doing radio interviews. B.A.B.I.E.S. would hopefully help curb the threat Laura seemed to be inviting, but still…

“She’s worried about you and now so am I…she didn’t tell me everything, just—that you need real help and I can do that. I can…”

“No,” Natasha said firmly. “You would relive each piece of it that you pulled out and this about more than just the memories.”

It was about the damage to her actual brain. It was about decades of conditioning and torture.

“I won’t do that to you. We have a plan. We’re working on it and it’s going to be fine.” She squeezed Wanda’s had and then pulled hers free. “We’ve had this discussion.”

“But I can help…”

With a sigh, Natasha met her gaze. “When you think about how the twelve people died in that explosion as the bomb took out the floor of that building—do you see them? Or just the smoke and the debris?”

Swallowing once, Wanda couldn’t maintain the eye contact. “I tried to look up who they were once. Vision told me I shouldn’t, but I did. I know what they looked like and who they were but—it’s real and not real at the same time. I just keep seeing the flames and the billowing smoke.”

“Does it keep you awake at night?”

“You know it does…” Wanda licked her lips. “Just like I know what happened with The Mandarin is haunting you and why you’re so resistant to being touched. Why are we poking at that pain?”

Pride filled Natasha. That was so the right question to ask. She was _thinking_. “Because there are nightmares for the nightmares locked in my mind,” she admitted. “There is beauty, too. I’m not so foolish to believe otherwise.” Mary had been so beautiful. James—she had those memories hidden away, too. “But they are not alone. If you were even marginally successful in unlocking them—you would live them too, wouldn’t you?”

Her gaze slid away. “I remember the tables…” She bit her lip. “That’s what you’re talking about?”

They had never discussed the Red Room and Natasha wouldn’t discuss it with her now. “You need to forget it, I told you then and I’m telling you now, block it out and make it go away. I adore that you want to help me. Believe me, I—love you for wanting to help me.”

Wanda’s eyes widened at the admission. Natasha mentally castigated herself. Wanda was young, she needed to hear these things. How long had it been for her…?

Then again, how long had it been for Natasha? Words weren’t everything, actions spoke volumes but words mattered.

“Washenka, you make me so proud and you humble me with how much you are willing to bear, but no. You cannot do this for me, I won’t allow it.” She raised a hand to stifle her objections. “No one should have to handle it and I don’t want it to change you. I will find my answers or I won’t, but you will not pay that price for me.”

“What if I want to? What if by helping you, I can make up for…I can make up for hurting you like I did?”

“You didn’t hurt me, Washenka.” When the other woman opened her mouth to object, Natasha took her hand, the contact sent little pricks of ice up her spine but she ignored it. “Listen to me. _You_ didn’t hurt me. The past did. The things I remembered did and the ones locked away will probably hurt, but you didn’t do it. If you need me to forgive you, I did—a long time ago.”

“I hate the thought of not being able to help.” She glanced down at their hands. “I hate the sense of mental anguish and questions and I can’t fix it.”

“No one likes feeling helpless. At the same time, that _feeling_ drives us to do better in other areas, to find solutions before those problems happen again. Nothing we do changes the past—nothing. We have to live here and now, we have to work toward tomorrow. Nothing is promised to us, we have to make the promises ourselves and we have to push to make it happen.”

The tears welling in Wanda’s eyes sliced at her. She tugged her close and wrapped her arms around her.

“You don’t like this right now…” Wanda protested.

“Shh,” Natasha soothed her, rubbing her back. “I don’t hate it either and you need a hug.”

“I want to be able to help you for a change,” the younger woman admitted in a wet, scratchy voice.

“You do,” Natasha assured her. “You definitely do. It helps me to know you’re stronger. It helps me to know you’re more confident in your skills. It helps me to see you happy and discovering who you want to be—that you have the freedom to make those discoveries.”

“But you’re hurt…” That hiccup made her lean back and she met Wanda’s gaze.

“Washenka, I will heal. Pain and I are old acquaintances; we’re almost friendly at this point. Do you want to know what helps me?”

Natasha let the words sink in, let Wanda catch her breath and waited for her nod. Only when she inclined her head did Natasha continue.

“This family of ours… that helps me. More than you know. All of you help me. So—dry those tears and know that I love you for wanting to try, but I am telling you no. That door is not one you open.”

“If their procedures work—if you remember. It’s a door you’ll have to go through, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll be alone, at least if…”

“Shh,” she said. “Would you like to know a secret?”

Surprise flickered in her eyes. “Aren’t we not supposed to say when we have secrets?”

“I meant a secret about me.”

If she’d be surprised before, genuine shock stamped across Wanda’s face now. “I mean, yes,” she said finally.

“I have survived this long in all those fights where I only had myself to count on because I only had myself to worry about. If their methods are successful, I know it’s going to hurt. I know I’m going to see things I might wish I didn’t know. But I’m also going to find things I _do_ want to know.” She would find Mary and that would be worth anything. “I can fight anything, endure—pretty much anything—if it’s me. If all I have to think about is making it to the other side.”

“And if I was there…” Understanding crystalized in Wanda’s eyes. “You think it would break me.”

“It was meant to break me.” Natasha could do this—she could show her this much. “Look.”

Wanda blinked.

“It’s all right—you saw this part, but see the rest of it. The ballet room—the dancers…”

Unease slid through Wanda’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

“You need to understand because your heart is telling you that it would be far better to suffer with me, but the suffering—it’s not for you. Now look.” She held her hand out between them. “But only the ballet room…”

Red light danced over Wanda’s hand and her eyes seemed riveted on Natasha’s. “I won’t hurt you.”

She would never intend to do such. It was fine, Natasha could take this. She focused on the test; the day Madame had driven them past endurance, past the pain, to where only the mind mattered. Where the mind led, the body would follow. They were malleable, but they needed to be marble.

Red sheened over her vision as the tendrils of Wanda’s power rolled over her. Then the other woman was there, a shadow next to her, a half-seen vision from the corner of her eye and she turned, moving along the familiar corridor with its dark wood and heavily scuffed floors.

Twenty-eight girls. The last twenty-eight. All that remained of two full year groups. Twenty-eight dancers in the Bolshoi. Those covers reinforced with endless practice. Hours, every day spent in this room that smelled of sweat, despair, shattered dreams, and blood.

This was the place the last hopes died. If any girl had forgotten her place, she found it here in endless hours of repetition. Wanda hurried along beside her, the place warping as only a memory can. A bad dream given form. The doors opened and Natasha’s tact suit faded—it was the one she’d worn on that fateful trip—her hair lengthened before gathering into the bun at the top of her head. She wore only the black leotard and her pointe shoes.

“Here,” she whispered. “Here is what you saw…” As she stepped into the first movement, Madame stood at the head of the room, her expression severe and foreboding, her command silent but indelible. The music rolled around them, the motions, rehearsed so often were as natural as breathing.

Time elongated. Hour upon interminable hour, Natalia danced…

_Around her, the other dancers stretched their hands to the ceiling and rose up on their toes. Her own toes bled, and had been bleeding. She left little point marks with every step. Three had already collapsed, but not Natalia. She would not surrender to the exhaustion. Like every other test, she would persevere. She surrendered to the dance the way she did the ice, submerging herself below the pain and the agony—the dance was all that mattered._

_The hours rolled by, and more of the girls fell. Some were dragged away, out of sight and never to be seen again. Others were left slumped against the walls, carelessly discarded._

_“You’ll break them,” she’d warned Madame B, even as she slipped into the next movement, her body in motion without conscious thought. She willed, therefore she danced. She knew this dance; it was as much a part of her as her own skin. The training demanded she react without pause, without hesitation, without time to translate thought to motion._

_If a hand flew at her, capture, break the fingers, twist the wrist, take control and flip the whole body. A dozen different maneuvers executed flawlessly because her body knew the movements and so she pirouetted then a jeté, then a graceful dip, and rise, and then en pointe again. The whole of the studio was her stage._

_“Only the breakable ones, Natalia,” Madame B reminded her as she danced past her._

_And it went on, for hours. The pain left Natalia’s feet, and her legs. Her body was numb, and her mind at a distance, monitoring only the cleanness of her lines. She’d soaked through her leotard, and her hair clung to her face. Dehydration a greater threat than the movements._

_She was the last dancer._

_Had been the last for more than an hour._

_Still she moved, because she had not been given leave to stop. Around her, others gathered along the walls—the older men with their stern expressions and heavily decorated uniforms, the dark suited men with their empty expressions, and the darker, younger men—the hammers to the widows’ sickle and the blood painting the floor their canvas._

_All around her they watched and the Widow refused to falter._

Wanda dropped her hand and pressed her palms to her mouth as the red haze dissipated and Natasha blinked slowly only to focus on Steve’s near thunderous expression and Tony’s furious one.

“What the _Hell_ are you doing?” Only they weren’t looking at her, they were staring at Wanda.

Putting a hand on Wanda’s knee, Natasha sat forward. The red sparks still danced in front of her eyes a little. It was a slow drag to shed Natalia, the emotional distance resonated and she had to fight a moment to focus on Steve and Tony.

“She was doing me a favor,” Natasha said slowly, feeling over each word on her tongue as she spoke. “Can we help you?”

That got their attention. Steve frowned. “Nat…”

“It’s fine. She did exactly what I asked her to do.” She gave Wanda’s knee a gentle squeeze and some of the tension cording her muscles eased.

Perching on the coffee table in front of her, Tony squinted. “Friday said this was your idea, but—Red, what the hell?”

“She wanted to show me why I can’t be the one to help her,” Wanda admitted quietly and Natasha stopped worrying about the boys for a moment and focused on her. Pale, Wanda clenched her hand into a fist and then released it. “That—was it really like that all the time?”

Natasha shrugged. “That actually wasn’t as bad of a moment as you might think. Which is why I meant what I said, but do you understand better?”

Instead of answering, Wanda threw herself forward and Natasha wrapped her arms around her and smiled gently as she stroked her hair down. Quietly, she said, “Washenka, one thing to remember when you think of that…”

“…that’s why you survive.”

Easing her back, Natasha nodded. “So, it can’t be all terrible if it’s part of why I’m still here.”

The young woman nodded and blew out a shaky breath. “I really did want to help.”

“I know.” Natasha smoothed Wanda’s hair back. “Now, go wash your face—maybe take a shower. Change, find something festive, I’ll make some hot cocoa in a bit after Steve and Tony are done yelling at me.”

Tony snorted and while she couldn’t see Steve, she didn’t imagine his expression had improved much. Still, she didn’t mind them yelling at her. At the moment, it would actually help her ground a little more in herself. Her toes ached with phantom pain from the dance and she’d not allowed herself to glance down once to see if they were bleeding.

Wanda stole a look at the two men.

“It’s fine, Wanda,” Steve said after a long minute. Too long. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” the younger woman said. “Just—a little off-center.”

“Well if I recall—that took a little while last time to even out.” It had taken Natasha hours before, hours to wrestle those demons back into a box they didn’t want to stay in. Hours where she’d made some questionable choices.

Wanda grimaced. “Yeah, maybe that was something else I should have thought about.”

“Learning,” Natasha reminded her. “So, we take this lesson and…”

With a faint, if rueful smile, Wanda said, “We apply it to what we know going forward.”

“Exactly.” She studied Wanda. “If you have bad dreams, call me.”

“I will,” she promised. “I’ll be back out in a bit?”

Natasha nodded and the quiet blanketing the room thickened as she rose. Tony and Steve both murmured the right things before she left, but their attention rested on Natasha like a loaded weapon.

Once she was out, Natasha glanced at them. “Want to take this somewhere private so you don’t scare the kids if they run out here?”

“Like they would have been if they’d seen you with glassy red-eyes?” Tony commented. “Sure. Let’s do this somewhere private.”

He stood, his motions sharp and aggravated. Steve studied her. “Was that really necessary, Angel?”

“Yes. I’ll explain why.”

There was the faintest tremble in her hand when she stood, but she curled her fingers and glanced at Steve as Tony headed for the admin wing. Their offices were as good a place as any. He diverted into his office and held the door as they followed him inside.

Once the door was closed, Tony glanced at her. “Friday, privacy mode, lock down the office. If the kids are looking, let them know we’ll be out in a bit. Quick meeting.”

“Understood, Boss.”

He didn’t speak. Nor did Steve. The silence drifted between them, hanging in the air, invisible. Silence was a strange thing. It could be comforting or intimidating. Safe or threatening. At the moment it was none of those things. It stretched out like a vast gulf separating all of them. Natasha moved something over on his desk and then slid up to sit on it. As she pulled her legs crisscross, she waited for them to take a seat.

“Angel,” Steve said without waiting for her to begin. “That was dangerous.”

“I know,” she said, then gave them a moment because Tony’s glare just gained in heat and Steve sighed. “You’re going to have to be patient for a minute—well a few minutes more. It’s—really fresh right now.”

“The memory?” Steve frowned, studying her.

“It’s like being there…I needed her to go back to the moment she opened when we first met her.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tony demanded. “You were a damn zombie right after that…Clint could barely get you to respond and the first sign of life we saw out of you in five hours was after we got to the farm. Why the _fuck_ would you do that to yourself?”

“Because Wanda needed to know why she couldn’t be the one to get into my mind and pull those locked memories.”

Grim eyes held hers as she met didn’t look away from Steve’s gaze. There were a dozen questions there. “You never wanted to talk about it.”

“None of us did. It was not fun. But—for those few moments, I was there again. Dancing. Being. The difference is I do remember it now, so the emotional backlash isn’t making me question whether my current existence is just another piece of faulty programming.”

Tony’s harsh exhale dragged her attention round.

“Tony, I’m fine. I needed her to see...I needed her to see that as much as she wants to help me, if she were even able to be successful, she would have to live through them with me, like it was happening to her.”

It wasn’t a pleasant point, but neither of them questioned it. The realization dawned and Steve leaned back in his chair, one hand massaging his forehead. “You chose a memory that was bad, but not…”

“Not horrific, no,” she murmured. There were enough of those if she cared to dig. “I don’t doubt there will be more when this is done. I won’t expose her to that.”

“God, you’re crazy sometimes,” Tony slumped back in his chair.

“Who’s crazier? Me? Or the people who like me?”

“I don’t know Ruski-Kenobi, why don’t you tell me?” The wry comment was more Tony, but the tension still hovered in his eyes.

“I get it,” Steve said slowly. “I think we both do, but wasn’t that extreme?”

“Maybe,” Natasha could admit that. “But Wanda was worried, she was also hurt that I hadn’t asked her for help when I faced dangerous medical procedures to do what she thinks she might be able to do.”

“There’s no guarantee she wouldn’t trigger a cascade seizure,” Tony said. “So like Steve, I see your point. Except… that would make it almost twice as reckless to do an experiment right there without backup.”

“Perhaps, if I’d been asking her to root out a memory I didn’t have. Which is tempting sometimes…even I can admit that. But this one I do remember. I’ve seen it enough my dreams the last couple of years—relived it, too. This wasn’t going to burst any memory blocks.”

“That you know of,” Steve said, his tone patient but his eyes—there was still anger there. Anger and concern.

“For a smart lady, you’re really damn dumb sometimes.”

Natasha didn’t laugh, though she wanted to. She’d been called far worse. “Stealing my lines?”

“Only the best,” Tony retorted, then pulled off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry you guys had to find me like that.”

Steve leaned back in his seat studying her. “You think Wanda will be alright?”

“I do. She’s stronger than she knows…”

Neither of them were happy, but some of the anger eased away.

“You know, I may have to come up with something more comforting than hot cocoa, it’s becoming a regular thing lately.”

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “I think we all need it a lot lately, even more, because you make it for us.”

Was he really okay? She raised her brows. But he nodded, then reached over and placed a hand on her knee. She covered his hand with hers and gave it a squeeze. Her pulse kept trying to rabbit, but one perk of Natalia—the sense of being her again—was her autonomic responses had been under rigid control. Even breathing kept it under control.

“It’s been a weird day,” she said, then tilted her head to look at Tony. “Still pissed at me?”

“Undecided, but I’ll let you make it up to me.”

“Well, that’s generous.”

“I know. I’m a giving kind of guy.”

The tension lessened, but the guys weren’t looking at her, they were staring at each other. Soon, she promised herself, soon they’d have all the answers—including where Mary was—then they could be done with this.

They wouldn’t have to hover, worrying at any moment about whether she’d break.

“Natasha?” Friday said. “Mr. Parker is free now and is wondering if you’re available.”

“One sec.” She glanced from Tony to Steve. “We good?”

“Indulge me?” Steve asked squeezing her knee. “No more experiments today?”

She grinned. “Well let’s hope not, but Peter said he wanted to work on something with me. If it turns out to be sparring, I’ll give you a heads up.”

“And if it turns out to involve you taking off for some super secret spy-whammy, let us know about that, too?” Tony’s droll tone was right on the edge of pushing it. But considering she’d kept him up most of the night talking, she’d let it slide.

Linking her fingers with Steve’s she slid off the desk. Then ran a hand through his hair as she stood in front of him. “I am sorry I surprised you guys, I just needed to protect Wanda.”

“I know,” Steve said, then kissed her hand.

“We got that, Red.”

“I’ll find you guys in a bit?” She glanced at them.

The next day was Christmas Eve and so much of the holiday spirit seemed to have leeched away. They needed to work on that.

At the door, she pivoted. “Tomorrow—let’s do something fun. You know barring disasters and call outs. Just—something stupid and ridiculously fun.”

“Like?” Tony asked.

“I don’t know—you guys decide.” Then she glanced at Steve. “I’m pretty much up for anything.” The six hours she’d wagered with the guys was theirs to collect, but likely not this evening at the rate things were going.

“No pressure,” Steve chuckled.

“Nope, none at all.”

Then she was out the door. “Where’s Peter at, Friday?”

“Your rooms, Natasha. He wanted somewhere quiet.”

“Thank you. And Wanda?”

“She is well,” Friday said. “A little disconcerted if I am reading her expressions correctly, but she took a shower and is currently drying her hair and seems to be calmer.”

“Cool. Keep an eye on her for me?”

“Of course.”

Natasha headed for her suite. The sense of being Natalia and the tune playing as she danced slowly shed away, like a too-tight yet familiar skin. Halfway across the compound, she paused to pull out her phone and she sent a text to James and one to Clint. She told them both what had happened. It was a short and to the point message including that she was fine and they were keeping an eye on Wanda.

Clint’s response was immediate. _Green?_

_Green_.

Not perfect but not horrible, for her at least.

James’ response was a little more circumspect. _Why_?

_To protect Wanda. She doesn’t understand. The experiments that gave her, her powers were not pleasant but she volunteered for them. She is always trying to make up for her past._

**James**: _Sounds familiar. You are all right?_

_Yes. Steve’s mad but burying it._

**James**: _He cares, Doll. Neither of us wants you to hurt._

_I know. Tired of me yet?_

**James**: _Never._

She smiled.

**James**: _We’ll be back soon._

_Going to talk to Peter for a bit. Something’s up. See you soon._

The last messages she sent to Steve and Tony.

_Thanks for putting up with me._

Steve answered swiftly. _Love you, Angel. I’m trying._

_I know you are and I’m grateful for you._

**Steve**: _You did good today_.

_You getting soft on me, Rogers_?

**Steve**: _Always. Go talk to Peter. I’ll be here when you’re done._

Tony’s answer was a little more succinct. _You do remember I’m the hot mess in this relationship? Your 24 hours in the spotlight are ticking down. I expect my crown back by midnight._

Natasha laughed.

She really didn’t deserve any of them.

Peter bounced off her sofa as she stepped inside, his expression wavered between concerned and disconcerted.

“Hey,” she said, studying him. His fidgeting coupled with the different expressions storming across his face had her crossing the room and when she opened her arms he scooped her up and held her tight. The air whooshed out of her, but she returned the fierce hold. Snagging those parts of Natalia that gave her the distance to handle it in the meanwhile.

“Sorry,” he said, as he loosened his grip a little, but not letting her go. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she soothed, running her hand over his hair and down his back. His heart raced faster than hers. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“The building falling on you wasn’t fun,” he admitted. “Scared me when I realized you were inside.”

“And you helped us get out.”

“Then Doctor Strange…”

“He’s just a ball of sweetness and light.”

Peter snickered, then sniffled as he lifted his head. “This is stupid, you’re fine.”

“I am fine,” she told him. “But I think you’re kind of sweet.”

His ears turned red and he finally loosened his hold and then paced over to fall back on the sofa. “This whole last few weeks have been crazy.”

“That’s one word for it.” She headed for the kitchen to get hot water on.

“Are you making cocoa?”

“I need to make it for everyone,” she said over her shoulder. She’d planned to make tea, but plans changed. “But you’re special so get over here.” She pointed to the island as she opened the fridge for milk. “Come tell me what’s going on while I make us some. Just—don’t advertise you got it ahead of time.”

“I won’t—did you hear that Friday? We can’t tell.” He dragged himself over and sat down, raking a hand through his hair.

“Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Parker. Natasha, Wanda has asked me to inform you she is making all of the brownies, including the peanut butter fudge ones.”

Peter’s whoop made her laugh. Wanda would be fine. “Tell Wanda she’s officially my favorite, but don’t tell anyone else.”

“Hey!” Peter said, straightening up. “I thought I was the favorite.”

“You are, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t my favorite Wanda and you’re my favorite Peter.”

He made a face then propped his chin on his hand. “I can live with that.”

She chuckled. “Talk to me…”

“Three things, two of which are kind of embarrassing.”

“Well, let’s start with the least embarrassing then and save the worst for the hot cocoa.”

“The not embarrassing is we still need to run Vulture’s last known sightings,” he said, blowing out a breath with the last word. “I’ve been trying to look at them with Friday and Karen, but we’re not seeing a specific pattern.”

“How many sightings do you have?” She knew the answer but it was better to get him to think aloud.

“Three I can confirm, four if you count the video caught of him by the news and six if you listen to rumors.”

“Do we listen to rumors?” She was melting the chocolate into the milk. Helping him with Vulture needed to happen before Wakanda. She didn’t want to leave that thread loose if they somehow managed to render her incapacitated.

“We do if there are enough credible witnesses to back it up.”

“Good answer. So how many sightings do we have?”

“I’d say four and a half.”

“When was the last time you saw him yourself?”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he said, “The Ferry.”

And that was almost two and a half months prior. No details on his activity before Peter’s first encounter.

“If I can figure out what he wants…”

“What has he gone after so far?” She poured the blended cocoa into mugs and then turned off the heat and set her pot into the sink with some water.

“Technology, I think. He went after a truck going to some DC warehouse. I got locked in there for a while—that was during the AcDec National trip.”

“Okay,” she sipped the cocoa. “High tech or alien tech?”

“It had all of the above,” Peter admitted. “I got a good look at his wings and the design’s like nothing I’ve seen before. He wears this full face mask with an oxygen filter.”

“One of the reports, I read was that it looked like he’d employed Chitauri hover capability or at least adapted it.”

Peter took a sip of his cocoa. “That would fit. But he doesn’t talk—I don’t think he really tried to kill me.”

“Define really tried.”

“He dropped me from about fifteen thousand feet—and not so much dropped me as the chute deployed, yanking me away and I kind of fell—into the water.”

“I would suggest that anything he planned to do at that height was not in your best interests.” If he’d taken him high enough lack of oxygen would have knocked him out.

“Fair, but I don’t think he’s hurt other people. I think he’s just taking stuff, but he also has a crew.”

“So you haven’t seen him since the Ferry.”

“No.”

“And you’re worried about what he will do if you don’t find him now?”

“I don’t know, I just—I feel like I know about him. I should do something.”

“Possibly,” Natasha took another swallow of the hot cocoa. The silky sweetness warmed her. It helped chase away the icy tingles left by the memories. “Or possibly, you feel like it’s unfinished business and not knowing what his ultimate goals are what make him unpredictable.”

He frowned. “So you get it?”

“I do. And I haven’t really been helping you like I said I would.”

“Extenuating circumstances,” Peter said. “I don’t blame you.”

“Well, maybe I blame me.” But this wasn’t about her, so she refocused him. “In my experience, the reasons people make choices say a lot about them. Therefore—their choices tell us more. We know he’s taking tech, alien and otherwise. We know he’s at least repurposing some of it. Currently, the working theory is he hasn’t deliberately left casualties in his wake, but he wasn’t averse to killing you.”

Peter flinched, his knuckles going white as he stared at her. Most of the Vulture’s crimes would have earned a looking at from her, but the last one dropped him solidly in enemy territory.

“Once upon a time, this is the kind of case Nick or Phil would have pulled me into one of their offices and handed to me. Their instructions would be to review the material and take care of it.” A free hand, because someone hard to pin down would need a shadow to find them and remove them from the board.

“Does that mean kill them?” His frown deepened.

“Sometimes.” She wouldn’t lie. “Sometimes it meant scare them straight. Sometimes it meant remove their access to the tools that let them do this. Either way, if I had the latitude, it was my call.”

“So if they gave you this—what would you do?”

“I’d get rid of his wings, that’s the first step. But a lot depends on what he let me do. If he fought back, if he tried to kill me…” She shrugged. It would be self-explanatory. “I don’t know that I could survive a fifteen thousand foot drop. I’m glad you did. But to do any of that, I’d need to find him. You aren’t sure what his motivations are, I would suggest it’s likely the most basic—money.”

“Money?”

“Money. Power comes in a lot of different ways—wealth gives people options and freedom. He’s not in it to hurt people, because he hasn’t been—at least until the ferry. So it’s not that he _won’t_ hurt people, but I would guess while he doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty, it’s not what drives him.”

Leaning on his forearms, Peter stared at the hot cocoa. “Alien tech. Advanced items. Money.”

“Sharon’s been working on investigating this and her reports all indicate he may have gotten involved in this post-New York. Nearly all of his identified tech is Chitauri-based in some fashion.”

“So what does that tell us? We need to bait him out with some juicy alien tech?” The fact he leapt to that conclusion made her smile.

“Think he’d take the hook?”

“Maybe—but if he’s been so quiet, we might have to make it a big deal so he would notice.”

Natasha hid another smile behind a sip of cocoa. “We can talk to Tony. Alien tech gives him the tinglies—he can tell us what would turn him on.”

The wrinkled nose and grimace Peter wore made her laugh. “I don’t know if I want to know the answer to that now.”

“Ah, we’ll figure it out. Bait the hook and see if we can catch a big ugly bird.”

Peter eyed her. “You need to avoid head injuries.”

Lifting a brow, she said, “I’m not the one he tried to drop fifteen thousand feet and I’m not banning you from the op.”

He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed. With a sigh, he said, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Right back atcha, kiddo. But spider-to-spider? We have back-up and with the right plan, we can do this without anyone getting hurt.”

“But that’s _if_ everything goes according to plan,” Peter argued. “Not everything does.”

“No,” she agreed. “Not everything does. However,” she continued, meeting his gaze. “That’s the job. The worst part of the job isn’t when you get hurt, but watching when your friends do or knowing they might get hurt. You want to protect everyone, but sometimes—you can’t. That’s why _we_ have to do the job. To minimize who gets hurt.”

“Accepted,” he said finally.

“Good. What’s next?”

A long sigh escaped him. “I have a confession to make.”

“All right.”

“You remember Liz, right?”

Natasha nodded. “The girl you brought to the party.”

“She’s great, really smart and pretty and we had fun… except…when everything happened I had to send her home in a car and I stayed to help.” He twisted the mug in little circles, his attention on it and not her. “She’s been amazing, we talk every day. And even when I couldn’t tell her what was going on, she was there for me, you know?”

She could guess, but he didn’t need her snark right now. His foot bounced against the floor and restlessness seemed to wash through him. “I’m glad.”

“Me too, she’s great. She’s really great. But…”

Tilting her head, she waited. “But?”

“Is it bad that I like her, I mean I do, I really do. We want to go out again, but it’s been crazy and then the weather and the holidays and…you—well you were gone and I couldn’t focus. Liz has been really understanding and we talk every day.”

“Okay. It’s not bad that you like her, Peter.”

“No, I mean—I kind of like someone else, too.”

Ah.

“I don’t think she knows that I like her and Liz doesn’t know that I like her and I’m not sure I even sure I should like her, but she’s really great and she’s pretty and funny. I haven’t really gotten to spend time with her, but she was there and I think she gets it and…”

“…and she knows you’re Spider-Man.”

His eyes lit up as he straightened abruptly. “She does.”

“Liz doesn’t.” It wasn’t really a question.

“No.”

“And you want to know if you can like two people at the same time? Two girls?”

Red flushed up his neck to his ears. “You do. Right? You like more than one person. I mean—I know it’s none of my business, but—you do.”

“I do,” she confirmed. “I like them a lot.”

“And it’s okay for you to like more than one.”

“It’s always okay to like more than one, it’s a personal preference if they know you do and they are okay with it. It’s not easy.” It was—complicated.

He chewed at his lower lip. “I don’t not want to see Liz. I do—but she’s…this sounds so awful.”

“She’s part of your normal life,” Natasha supplied, refusing to let him flounder.

“Yes,” he exhaled the word. “That sounds awful.”

“No, Peter, it doesn’t sound awful.”

“But she’s so great, I’m crazy about her and I want to spend more time with her and I don’t know if I ever will get more than a little time here or there because there is so much I can’t tell her.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Fifteen-year-olds shouldn’t have to make this kind of choice.

“Won’t,” he admitted. “I won’t expose her to this. I won’t—I don’t want anyone to do to her what The Mandarin did to you to punish Tony.” Real pain reflected in his eyes. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”

“We never do,” she told him. “I get that.”

“And this other girl…”

“Wanda,” Natasha said gently. “You can say her name.”

Peter’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating as he shot a look toward one of Friday’s cameras.

“My lips are sealed, Peter,” Friday assured him.

He let out a shaky breath. “Wanda’s amazing. She’s pretty and she’s sweet and she has this gorgeous red hair…”

Natasha didn’t smile, schooling her features.

“And she knows—me. She knows I’m Spider-Man and she’s way powerful. You should have seen her, she could hold up the buildings—_buildings_ plural.”

“I’m aware. She’s very talented.”

“And…I know she’s a little older than me, but she doesn’t treat me like a kid and I feel guilty because…”

“You like her.”

“But not more than Liz and not—not less. Comparing them is… rude and I’m not.”

“Peter,” Natasha reached over and stilled his hand on the mug. When he grasped her fingers, she tightened her grip on him. “Breathe. You can like two people for different reasons. It doesn’t make either one of them less. You like Liz because she’s Liz and you like Wanda because she’s Wanda.”

Blowing out a ragged breath, he nodded. “And then it occurred to me—and this is the really embarrassing part.”

“Okay,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “Hit me.”

“I feel the same way about you and Aunt May. Well—not the _same_ way cause that would be gross. But Aunt May has always been there for me, she’s amazing and she’s great and she—she’s a rock. But she doesn’t know about this life and you—you remind me of my mom.”

Natasha’s chest squeezed.

“You’re, you’re easy to talk to and I can tell you anything and today I realized I was worried Aunt May would be able to go home for Christmas and that was great because I’d get to spend it with her, but if I did, then I wouldn’t get to spend it with you. I feel terrible because I want to spend it with both of you and…she doesn’t know so I can’t and I’m happy to be here but I want to be there but if I were there, I’d want to be here.”

The last came out in a rush.

“Well,” she told him. “I’m selfish. I’m glad you’re going to be with us, but I want you to be happy.”

“I am—and—I’m lying to Aunt May, so I shouldn’t be. I want to tell her the truth, but I don’t want to scare her and… if I tell her the truth, she might tell me I have to stop. Then I’d be disobeying her.” He cut his gaze away. “Like I did when you told me to sit out for a week.”

“You survived that week.”

“Only after you tased me with your bites,” he complained, the corners of his mouth curving a little. “That’s not fair to Aunt May. But I don’t know how to make it right…and still be able to do this. I really don’t want her getting hurt either.”

“Oh, Peter. That’s not an easy question. If I were May—I’d want to know. I’d need to know. I’d need to be able to protect and help you.”

“Would you make me stop?”

“I want to make you stop now,” Natasha told him truthfully and he blinked, surprise filling his eyes.

“What?”

“You’re fifteen. You should be—going to school, asking girls out on dates, going to dances and hanging out with your friends. Your toughest choices should be which college to say yes to and what video game do I play this weekend. That’s the kind of life…” She linked their fingers and held up the joined hands. “That’s the kind of life I’d like you to have. What we do is dangerous and sometimes… we pay an awful price. I never want you to have to pay that price and if I could make it safe for you I would. But that’s not the life you’re choosing.”

“No,” he said slowly. “I mean I did—I had it. But then…I got these powers and if I don’t do something…”

“That’s a credit to you, to your parents, and very much to your Aunt May.”

Guilt flushed his cheeks. “Do you think I should tell her?”

“I can’t tell you what you should do. I can tell you I would want to know. I can tell you I always want you to feel like you can come to me. If you thought, if you thought you couldn’t or worse, you wouldn’t, and then something happens and the first time I find out about any of this is after you’ve been badly hurt?” She raised her brows. “Tell me how you would feel.”

He bowed his head. “I have to tell her.”

Reaching over with her free hand, she ran her fingers through his hair. “You have to do what you believe is right. Both have consequences. Neither are easy choices.”

“Will you come with me?” He jerked his head up. “When I tell her… will you come and be there? Help me explain it to her? Maybe answer her questions?”

“Will I be your backup?”

He nodded.

“Malen’kiy pauk, I may not be as comforting to her as you think.”

“Maybe, but you’re you and you’re right, if I go to Wakanda. May should know and I want her to know why.”

“You realize she could object to me?” Natasha raised her brows.

“Not after she meets you. May’s good people and I know she’s going to like you. I think you’ll like her.”

“Okay,” she told him.

“Really?” His eyes brightened.

Natasha chuckled. “I’ll meet her.”

“Tonight?”

Blowing out a breath, Natasha said, “Let’s talk to the guys. Make sure they don’t need me here and then we can take dinner to your aunt. How does that sound?”

She wasn’t quite prepared for his leap over the island countertop. She should have been. But he bounded over and picked her up with his hug. “Thank you.”

Shaking her head, she hugged him back. “You’re welcome.”

Still holding her, face hidden against her shoulder, he asked, “Do I have to figure out the Liz and Wanda thing right now?”

“Are you planning on kissing Wanda?”

With a squeak, he pulled back and turned beet red. “I haven’t really kissed Liz yet.”

Chuckling, she brushed his hair off his forehead and gave him a light nudge back. She was about at her limit for the constant contact, but at the same time, she wasn’t shaking or fighting the dread.

That had to be good.

“Then I think you’re fine. Just—if you want both, you make sure they both know. You let them make choices for themselves.”

“But if I tell Liz about Wanda…” He made a face.

“What?”

“I never thought dating could be so complicated.”

“Well, according to Clint, his life was far easier before I started dating boys—”

Peter snickered.

“But as someone who tried to build a relationship with too many secrets in it… it doesn’t work. You want it to, but they always know you’re holding something back. Eventually, they figure it out and it sours things not just for them, but for you.”

It had with Matt and Maria both.

“Do you think Wanda likes me?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, I’m not tackling that one,” she told him.

“No?”

“Nope. Talk to Tony,” she decided. “Or Steve or James.”

“Not Clint?”

“No, not yet.”

“Not yet?” He raised his brows, confused.

Natasha grinned. “When you talk to Clint, you make sure I’m there so when he threatens you I can take care of it.”

“Why would he threaten me?”

“Because he loves Wanda like she’s his own.”

His eyes rounded. “You’ll protect me, right?”

Chuckling, she ruffled his hair. “You’ll be fine.”

Abashed, he shuffled back over to his side of the island and reclaimed his cocoa. The tension cording him seemed to have eased and even though his ears were red, his face flushed, and his eyes a little too bright—he seemed happy.

That squeeze around her heart tightened. He wanted her to meet May. And he wanted to tell May the truth. “We should go,” she murmured. “I can make more hot cocoa and we can get the first round of brownies.”

After he drained his cocoa and she rinsed out their mugs, he offered her his arm. “Is this okay?”

Sliding hers through it, she bumped him lightly. “You’re doing just fine.”

“So—should I admit that I made Wanda something for Christmas?”

“Oh? I like presents. Tell me everything. I can keep a secret.”


	33. In the Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve talk while Clint and Bucky make plans.

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

_In the Spirit_

**Tony**

At the door, she pivoted. “Tomorrow—let’s do something fun—in the morning. You know barring disasters and call outs. Just—something stupid and ridiculously fun.”

“Like?” Tony asked.

“I don’t know—you guys decide.” Then she glanced at Steve. “I’m pretty much up for anything.” The shadows writhing in her eyes reminded him too much of when they first met. They’d quieted since she came into the office, but finding her with Wanda, her eyes red and all Tony could see was the end of the world—and all of them dead or dying. Her eyes had been lifeless and her face pale and gray.

“No pressure,” Steve chuckled. The laughter jolted him.

“Nope, none at all,” Tony said it almost automatically, leaning his head back in the seat after the door closed behind her. She’d let Wanda take her back to some dark place to help Wanda understand why she couldn’t help her in the long run.

Steve’s long sigh reminded Tony he was still there. When he glanced at the other man, he found him staring at him. The look on his face, a cross between exasperation and genuine fear resonated.

“First, she runs into a collapsing building,” Tony said idly.

“Then she lets Wanda collapse her in her own mind to protect Wanda from trying to help her. Yeah,” Steve groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Now she wants to do something _fun_.”

“Sex is fun,” Tony suggested, the image of Steve with his shoulders slumped and his expression troubled not one he cared for despite their history.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” the super soldier retorted and Tony chuckled.

“If you ever need tips…”

“I think I’m good,” he said as his smile faded. “But thank you.”

A dozen different snarky lines curled on his tongue but he left them all unspoken. “I can take Pete out tomorrow—there’s a couple of larger robotics factories I can get him in to explore. Give you guys some time…”

“Tony, she included you.”

“She just said let’s do something fun. That doesn’t have to include me,” Tony pushed forward in the chair and checked his lenses. Her vitals were all in the green.

“Tony,” Steve began but his phone buzzed a half-second before Tony’s did.

_Thanks for putting up with me._

He snorted. “Red?”

Steve nodded and typed in his own response as Tony eyed the message. She never had to thank him. Yet, she did, nearly every time.

_You do remember I’m the hot mess in this relationship? Your 24 hours in the spotlight are ticking down. I expect my crown back by midnight._

He sent it and waited for Steve to finish. Natasha didn’t answer Tony, but he didn’t expect one. She’d probably just laughed. Which had been the goal.

“Tony,” Steve repeated as he set the phone down. “Look—I don’t know how to say this other than say it. You’re crazy about her and you—you mean a lot to her. She trusted you to talk to you last night. She needs all of us—not just me. Not just Buck. So, don’t try to disappear on her.” Leaning forward, Steve locked his gaze on him. “A few months ago, I left you two alone in the kitchen at the chalet and I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to walk away because I damn well knew how you felt then. A part of me—pretty much thought she’d choose you long before she’d look at me.”

“Well, that’s not the case…”

“But I also think it’s partially true.”

Frowning, Tony said, “You do recognize she’s basically living with you and that she did choose you? A point she made abundantly clear to me. I gave her my word I would leave you alone and that I’d stop antagonizing you.”

Friday hadn’t been wrong. Natasha had opened the door to talking; Tony was the one who didn’t walk through it. He kept his eye on the prize, right now. She did that for him when he needed it, he could damn well do it for her now.

“I appreciate that. I’m not trying to antagonize you. I’m trying to apologize.”

His spine stiffening, he studied the other man. “For what?”

“For—cutting you and Natasha off. For—forcing her to choose. Bucky and I stood in the suite at the chalet in Switzerland and we told her she didn’t have to choose. Not even a month later, you sent that text about the bet you two made—and the date she had with you.”

“We went over this,” Tony said flatly. “You were a dick. You made it up to her. It’s done.”

“I haven’t forgotten what you said.”

“That I’m her friend and no matter where you take her or try to disappear with her, I’m not going to go away?”

“That until the day she says she wants something more, you’re only ever going to be her friend.”

“That.” Tony shrugged. “We both said a lot of things that day. You may not have noticed this—we don’t always agree or get along.”

“Except where Natasha is concerned,” Steve suggested and Tony snorted.

“We definitely disagree about her.”

“No, we don’t,” Steve countered. “Took me a while to see it, then I couldn’t unsee it. So—we’ve been making this work because we want her to be happy. She needs her family. She needs you. I don’t have to like it. But weirdly, I don’t hate it. So—make of that what you will. Now, you’re the fun guy, the party guy—what do we do tomorrow that would just be fun for her? Fun with us? With Peter?”

Tony swung his chair sideways a little and glanced at the windows overlooking the picturesque snowy landscape. “Take her ice skating—do a sleigh ride—go be normal people. Shop. That kind of thing.”

“You think any of us can be normal people?”

“No, but we can make just about anything happen. You three have plans tomorrow night?”

“Maybe,” he said. “We talked about it just being us, but that was before Peter was going to be there and you…”

“I’ll be fine,” Tony reminded him.

“You’re also family, so unless you _want_ to be somewhere else. Just shut up and take the invitation.”

“Be normal.”

“Sure,” Steve drawled it out in such a Natasha manner that Tony had to chuckle. “It’ll be fun. She needs good memories and I can’t say that I mind them. In the spirit of the season…”

“Well if we’re going for the spirit of the… son of a bitch.” The idea crystalized all at once. Tony laughed, then studied Steve. “Definitely the ice skating and the sleigh ride, but only after we get terribly tacky sweaters, a photo with Santa and a thermos of Red’s hot cocoa, then we can go caroling while we ride in the sleigh.”

It was absolutely ridiculous. They’d look like fools.

She’d love it.

“Rockefeller Center for the skating,” Steve said slowly. “She’s been wanting to do it since Thanksgiving.”

“Then we make it happen. What else has she wanted to do?”

“We talked about playing tourist. Museums. Dancing. Um... the ballet.” Steve straightened in the chair.

“Baby Girl, tell me someone has a performance of the Nutcracker ballet tomorrow…” The weather could make it tricky, but the worst wasn’t supposed to hit until Christmas Day itself.

“I have two different productions of the Nutcracker, Boss. One from the Moscow Ballet and the other by the New York Repertory Company.”

He looked at Steve, eyebrows raised and they said in one voice, “New York.”

“Get us a box, Baby Girl—and can I get her a dress or do you want the honors?” he asked, focusing on Steve.

“Buck’s gonna kill me.” Steve leaned forward. “But I want to do it.”

“You heard the man, Baby Girl, give us some lovely Christmas dress selections for Red,” he said with a motion. “Got a preference for color?”

“Her favorite is blue.”

“Let’s see what we can find.” The holo screen populated with images and Tony glanced at them. Friday knew Red’s taste and her sizes. There wasn’t one on the screen that wouldn’t look fantastic on her.

“Tony?”

“Yep?” Tony studied an off the shoulder Grecian dress, he could see her in that but not for this. He put a pin in that one for later.

“You haven’t been a fan of her going to Wakanda from the beginning.” The sober change of subject wasn’t lost on Tony. How long had it taken Steve to work up to asking about this? “Do you still have your doubts?”

After downing his half-full forgotten cup of coffee, he said, “Yes.”

Steve glanced from the dresses to him. “Talk to me about them.”

“Thought it was your idea.”

“Right up until Strange described the chair today, so did I…”

Yeah.

That.

“Finding a solution for this was never going to be easy. From the day I realized she’d want to use SPARK I had to make a choice. I could change my mind right now and go hook her up, but it wouldn’t reduce the threat of what we’d be doing to her brain.”

“The technology in Wakanda…”

“The best technology in the world doesn’t change the fact we’re dealing with a fragile human organ. Red’s serum aside, Steve, she’s still human.”

“Except…” Steve grimaced then looked at him. “You read those reports.”

Yes, he had. Dipping his gaze for a moment, Tony focused on deep, regular breaths. “Yes, they modified her genetically, eugenics. Breeding the perfect person.” Which on the one hand was absolute bullshit. Humanity was innately flawed. Those flaws made them unique; those flaws inspired them to more than the mortal coil. Tony lost his faith in a lot over the years, but humanity could be trusted to be one thing absolutely.

They were flawed.

What those flawed and warped individuals had chosen to do with her was to tinker with DNA, to modify it and combine it in the way they wanted using specific breeding programs—another thought that nauseated him. The only successful result of their manipulations and test tube work was Natasha.

Was she an actual test-tube baby? Tony doubted if any of them would ever know. It would have employed technology and methodology that the time period seemed to belie and yet—Steve, Bucky, and Natasha were also subjects of other forms of experimentation.

Impossible enough that it had never been replicated. So maybe his impossible girl wasn’t so impossible.

“Modifications or not, she’s still human, Steve.”

“I know she is, I also know they were attempting to make her more. Her DNA adapts—you said that yourself. Her DNA adapted to her serum and her DNA can adapt ours to strengthen it. That’s not typical.”

“But it’s also not atypical,” Tony countered as Steve paused the slider on a gown where the bodice was all sparkling crystals and gems in a halter that encircled her neck but left her arms and back bare with a skirt that was a stunning royal blue. “Humanity is supposed to adapt. Adaptation can take place over generations—sometimes needing several to incorporate environmental changes and adding new genetic information, but at the same time, subsequent generations become stronger with each new influx. Arguably, her daughter would have benefitted from the serum changes of her parents and if Red’s DNA held true, then it’s equally as likely any child that child had would again, improve by adapting the strengths of any new genetic material.”

That adaptation was great, but so far his and Friday’s work on combining their serums through various blood serum hadn’t worked. Currently, they were trying to separate out the white blood cells and letting them have a go at it.

“That’s almost horrific to think about it so clinically.” Steve lingered on the dress.

“It’s perfect,” Tony told him when he glanced at him. “Make sure to find a lined cloak to wear over it so it enhances the lines and doesn’t let her freeze.”

“Well, maybe she can borrow Strange’s.” The wry comment made Tony laugh.

“Except it would clash unless that comes in a red skirt variety—of which I highly approve. She looks good in red.”

Steve shot him a dry look. “She looks good in everything.”

Yes, she did.

“Friday, can we save this one? And see if we can find a cloak to match it?”

“Of course, Captain Rogers. Would you like to continue perusing?”

“Sure.”

Tony recognized it for what it was, an excuse to have the conversation he really wanted to have and he could appreciate it.

“It’s horrific because that’s what those jackasses intended for the long run. I just don’t think any of them imagined her outliving them by decades or totally tearing them down. In its own way, it’s beautiful poetry that she destroyed them when they created her.”

“Makes you wonder how something so damn ugly could create something so amazing.”

“No,” Tony said slowly. “It doesn’t—I mean I get it. But they may have put all the pieces together and tweaked the coding that allowed her to be born, but—Natasha is her own creation.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Natasha isn’t a cover.”

“No, but she is still the woman she decided to be. She made conscious choices along the way. She pushes herself far past boundaries any of us would have told her to stop, because we wanted to protect her. She’s done it for years longer than any of us knew her.”

“Except Buck,” the other man said with a sigh.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Rogers, but your bestie wasn’t in her life as much as he was out of it. Even if you just go by the dates. Has he known her longer physically? Yes. Has she known him?”

Steve frowned.

“Think about it. She doesn’t remember him. She remembers feelings and images. She’s reclaimed a few pieces. But that woman you love—” He almost said we, then amended it. “She doesn’t know him the way he knows her. The woman he knows isn’t exactly the woman out there. Red is the woman she chose to be _after_. After she left the KGB. After she got on SHIELD’s radar. After Clint.”

Tony had spent more time thinking about this than Steve might like to think. “That woman is who they sent to infiltrate my company and to shadow me. The woman Hydra twisted to use and sent to save me. She’s a woman who’s tortured by her past, but not impaired by it. Red—she’s exceptional. But she’s exceptional _because_ of _her_ choices. Everything else is chemistry and biology. Give any two people the exact same building blocks, put them through the exact same gauntlet, there is no guarantee you get the same person on the other side.”

“No,” Steve said slowly. “You’re right. It’s strange… for the longest time, I had no idea how old she was. Decades younger than me, jaded and twisted by a negative world…and yet, she understood me and everything so much better. She became my touchstone for this world I woke up to. Then I find out, we’re more contemporary than I thought.”

“But you’re not,” Tony said slowly. “Are you?”

“No,” Steve said with a rueful chuckle. “She’s walked through so much time alone.”

“She’s not alone anymore,” Tony motioned to the screen. “That’s a good one, too.”

It looked more like a 20s flapper dress, but the midnight blue and silver were a stunning combination. Maybe they could do a Roaring Twenties for New Year’s.

“Makes you want to have a party, doesn’t it?”

Tony shrugged at the knowing look. “Maybe. But after the last one, I think I want to keep that circle small, too.”

Steve grimaced. “Agreed.”

The silence stretched, but not uncomfortably. Tony pushed away from the desk and went to the coffeemaker in the corner. It was a single cup, but it did in a pinch.

“You didn’t want Wakanda because you didn’t think you could control what happened there. But now you’re involved, has that changed your mind at all?” Steve asked.

“No,” Tony said. “Strange wasn’t wrong. Their suggestions are all just as likely to do what Red wants. But the pain—the risk of permanent damage—the fact we don’t know what she’s going to remember. What if all we do is give her more nightmares?”

That thought haunted him along with Natasha discovering her child died. What if that was why she went back? She said she made a choice and they all assumed, even Natasha that she’d hidden her child somewhere and then forced herself to forget. Conditioned herself to not think about her until they shoved her in the chair and erased those years.

What if they were all wrong?

“We can’t think like that,” Steve said, but his tone told a different story.

“We have to,” Tony countered, turning to face him. “I spent too many years making rash choices and leaping to create and do things—because I could. You can’t sit there and be the same guy who ripped into me for Ultron and then tell me I can’t think this way.”

“Because I want this to be different,” Steve admitted. “I want it to be different for her _and_ for you.”

“What I get out of this doesn’t matter, Steve. I just need her to be alive and whole. I’d like her mind intact and I definitely want her to be happy. But I have accepted that on the other side of this? Is probably going to be heartbreak.”

“Because even if we find their daughter…” Steve sighed, leaning back in the chair and tilting his head back. The suppressed anger and tension he’d been fisting melted away. “What are the chances she’s alive and well and teaching kindergarten classes somewhere safe like New Hampshire or Vermont?”

Tony snorted. “What makes New Hampshire or Vermont safe?”

“Small, picturesque, idyllic?” The wry hope in his voice asked Tony to agree with him. Asked him for hope.

“Anything’s possible. I could figure out time travel, work out the kinks, and we could go back and get her daughter and hand her over. That’s possible, too. But probable?”

“Dammit, Tony. Can you throw me a bone?”

“Don’t you think I want to?” After the cup brewed and filled, Tony poured the coffee back into the maker, then popped another cup in and hit brew a second time. Steve needed ink for his veins. “I thought I was offering hope when I said there was a chance you could get her pregnant, but a second kid…”

“Would never and could never replace what she lost.” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face, and then tapped the flapper dress. “Save this one, too, Friday.”

“I get it, you want to shield her from everything. So do I. But this is a road neither of us can follow. We have to stand on the sidelines and cheer her on. We have to be there at the end to catch her.” And Tony might very well have to hand her the keys to breaking her own heart.

“She won’t blame you,” Steve told him and despite how unnecessary it was, it still sounded good. “She doesn’t blame you now for not letting her use BARF.”

“SPARK,” Tony said almost automatically before setting the coffee in front of him and starting on his own.

“My point is—she knows you only want to help and I think of all of us, she and Buck are the only ones who can really know how bad it might be.” Steve knew something he wasn’t sharing.

But Tony didn’t need the information. He could color in between the lines and find the shading. “I also know she’ll let herself be tied to a chair beaten and burned and tortured to get a mission done.”

“Yeah,” Steve admitting, picking up the mug of coffee as he continued to idle through the dress selection. Though his expression was as far from that banal task as it could get.

“Why the cold feet?”

Steve blinked. “What?”

“Why the cold feet? You knew going into this—it wasn’t going to be easy. You saw Bucky after Wakanda dumped him back in our laps. He was—not all there. I wanted nothing to do with him, but even I could see the loss and the distance. The confusion. He got better. It took time, but he got better. Hell, I almost like the son of a bitch now.”

That got him a smile from Steve. “You’re getting soft.”

“Yeah, shut up. The point is—whatever goes down. Red’s going to be different on the other side of it and it’s going to take her time. Time to process those memories, those feelings—the trauma. Because let’s face it Steve, the moment she _knows_ what she did, she remembers saying goodbye—that trauma of losing her kid is just going to magnify. It was bad enough when she found out she’d had one and forgotten.”

If he never saw that hollow look in her eyes again, it would be too soon. Standing there in medical unable to touch her or comfort her and it fucking hurt not to. It was the worst kind of pain imaginable to watch her suffer.

The Mandarin hit that on the fucking head.

Bastard.

“The fact she’s remembered anything? You saw her when she told us.”

“I’m aware. I’m aware of what Buck went through, but this could be different.”

Oh for the love of… “Steve, look at me.” Tony set his coffee down and locked gazes with the other man. “Listen to me. This—right here—this is important. You see the _best_ in people and the _best_ in their situations. That’s above and beyond. It makes people want to be better than they are. But right here and right now… you need to open your eyes and accept that this procedure could give Red everything she wants and cost her far more than we would ever want her to pay and that could _change_ her. I’m not saying it _will,_ but it could. You have to be ready for that. You have to be braced. Because if that happens, she’s going to need us more than ever—she’s going to need _you_ and that unshakable damn moral compass.”

Blowing out a breath, Tony reclaimed his coffee and took a long drink.

“That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?”

Tony eyed him.

“You’re planning for what happens if it goes wrong. For whatever that might be…”

“Hope for the best,” Tony told him. “Plan for the worst. I’ll be there every step of the way, Friday and I are working on a way to pull her out if we have to and modifying the tech so it’s more compatible with her, more suited to her needs—hopefully, it’s enough.”

That wouldn’t be enough if it really went wrong.

“I want you to be wrong,” Steve said slowly. “I really want you to be wrong. You picked Strange because he’s the best and he seems very fond of her—not surprising—and more she trusts him because of you.”

Maybe Tony opened that door, but Natasha made her own choices. “Well, then let’s hope on the one hand I was right to look for him and that I’m wrong to be paranoid.”

“This one,” Steve said, motioning to the screen. Long sleeves, off the shoulder, white fur-lined.

“Well, she’d be the sexiest Mrs. Claus ever.” Tony quirked a brow. “But she’d be stunning.”

“It has a red cloak and hood.”

Laughing, Tony pulled his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Am I terrible that I want to invite Strange over before the ballet if she’s in that to see his cloak’s response?”

“Is it weird that we want to _see_ a cloak respond? Is it a person? Or a pet? Or—what?”

“I dunno,” Tony admitted. “I really don’t. I’m starting to think it’s like Thor’s hammer.”

They shared a look and then both laughed. Elevators weren’t worthy. “So which one?”

“Your choice,” Tony reminded him. “My treat. Pick your favorite.”

“I like them all,” Steve admitted.

“You heard the man, Friday. Get them all.”

“Woah,” Steve said, straightening. “I didn’t mean…”

“You like them all, we let her pick out her favorite to wear. It’s not like she can’t wear the others another time.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it. “She might enjoy all of them—she really loved the dress you had made for her.”

That muted some of their mirth, but then Tony shrugged. “I like getting her things. It’s fun.”

“I’ve noticed—and I can’t really argue with you. It is fun.” Steve tapped his fingers against the side of his mug.

“Something else bothering you, Cap?”

“Yeah, I need to ask for your help on something and I’m really not sure how to…”

Oh, this had to be good. “Just spit it out. Probably nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“I lost a wager—and I have to pick out a sex toy or three…Bucky said there’s a shop not that far north of here, but I’ve never been in one and I really have no idea what to get. I tried to research it…”

Tony held up a hand, silencing him.

“Let me get this straight, Captain America lost a bet to the Winter Soldier and you have to go get sex toys from a sex shop?”

Steve grimaced but there was no hiding the red tips to his ears. “More or less.”

“Well, which is it? More or less?” Tony squinted at him.

“More. Okay?” Steve shifted in his chair. “I thought about looking up adult sex toys but the last time I did anything like that, Natasha had to clean malware out of my laptop and I couldn’t look her in the eye for a week.”

Tony plowed right past the _last time_ because if he didn’t, he might giggle for a week. “You planning on looking her in the eye after you show her you picked up toys for her? I’m assuming they’re for her. Though—maybe they’re for you.”

Steve gaped for a moment.

“You didn’t know they made toys for guys?” It really wasn’t a question.

“I never thought about it,” Steve admitted, and then groaned. “Bucky had to know…”

“Probably, though that is a question for another day. There are plenty of shops—but you going in as you is just bad PR.” A laugh bubbled out of him, just one, a little titter and he swallowed it almost as soon as it escaped. “Friday—reach out to the Jack and Jill shop on 15 and pay them to close early today.”

“On it, Boss.”

Steve eyed him. “You’re laughing at me.”

“Oh, no, Cap. Not laughing at you,” he promised as he stood. “Doing everything in my power not to laugh. But let’s go shopping.”

“You’re going with me?” Steve rose. “Um… you don’t have to.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Promise to not tease you too much about it. But trust me, this is one area where you would rather ask me _where the hell is that supposed to go_ over one of the shop employees.” He patted him on the shoulder. “Friday, where’s Red?”

“In the kitchen with Mr. Parker and Miss Maximoff making brownies.”

“Show us?”

The holo screen shifted to the camera view of the kitchen. Natasha perched on a counter a mug of what was likely tea in her hands, her expression amused as Peter and Wanda chatted over a pan they were filling with brownie batter. Tony could practically smell the chocolate. He was surprised the Barton kids weren’t out there but maybe they had been or were on the game system.

“Text Natasha and let her know Steve and I have an errand to run.”

Steve pinned him with a look and Tony waved him back.

“Down boy, not telling her where I’m taking you. I don’t need to get in trouble for corrupting you. Bucky can take that heat.”

Chuckling, Steve nodded. “Agreed.”

On the screen, Natasha pulled her phone out and looked at it. Her eyebrows rose and she glanced at the camera. Tony could swear she always knew when he was watching. She’d definitely noticed at the airport in Spain. The corner of his mouth curled as she took a sip of her tea and smiled before she answered the text.

“Natasha says that she is going to run an errand of her own when the brownies are done. Mr. Parker wants to go into the city to see his aunt, so Natasha will take him. They should be back after dinner.”

“Then we have plenty of time.” With one last look at Natasha, Tony turned and clapped Steve’s shoulder. “Grab your jacket, Rogers and come with Uncle Tony to the den of inequity and let me know what your hard limits are. That will make picking stuff out easier.”

He really shouldn’t be enjoying Steve’s groan so much but he would have to thank Bucky for this bet later. This was just the kind of distraction he didn’t know he needed or wanted. But it was definitely a gift he planned to enjoy.

**Clint**

The first house was about as close to perfect as he’d ever found. It was everything the farmhouse had always been meant to be, but instead of needing a thousand hours of refurbishment, this place had been _loved_. Bucky paced him as they walked the house. It had a little land—thirty acres. There were an adjacent sixty acres on one side and another fifty that came with the house if he wanted them, or they could be parceled and sold off. It meant the nearest neighbor was a couple of miles away.

He climbed all the way to the garret—and checked the sightlines. He wasn’t alone, Bucky had an eyepiece out and did the same. They had a 360 view from up here. The house itself had been built in the early 1900s but had undergone significant refurbishment in the 70s and then again five years earlier.

The realtor who’d met them, offered them the keys and a sheet with all the information before she said she’d wait in the car and they could call her in if they had any questions. Six bedrooms—enough for each of the kids as well as him and Laura—provided she let him move in—but with additional room for an office or a craft room if Laura wanted it. They could leave one bedroom for a guest room—or maybe his room when he came out again, Laura willing.

The downstairs was open concept, which meant Laura had good eye lines from anywhere on that floor to all the other rooms. There was even a basement. It was a full basement.

Panic room could go down here and secure training. The plumbing and electrical were all up to code. The porch was wide and covered. A swing hung there and it didn’t squeak when he sat on it. It was—perfect.

Even the color. It was a charming rust red with white accents. There was an outdoor shed and no barn. He’d have to build one, add some fencing both standard and electric.

Bucky vanished around the side of the place. There had been a fireplace inside both on the first floor and in the master bedroom. Gas for the heating came from a propane tank, but he could shield that. Surrounded by fields of pristine snow it was the farm but—better. So much closer.

He swallowed as he considered all the pros and cons. But every fiber of him wanted to buy the place and then sneak Laura out here and make it an offer, just to her. Not the kids. If she said yes, then they could tell the kids.

But if he bought it without telling her… fuck could he even afford this place? He had significant funds tucked away and operational accounts. Buying it outright wouldn’t be a problem, but he didn’t have regular funds coming in anymore. He’d have to take some jobs.

Jobs were doable. Smaller things, protection details. Search and rescue. Nat could hook him up.

The crunch of snow alerted him to Bucky’s return. “There’s another outbuilding, about a hundred yards behind the house, in the woods. Reinforce it. Good fall back if the house is compromised and the kids can’t get inside here.”

It was a gut-curdling thought, but Bucky was right. Not a facet of Clint’s life he wanted any of them to face. But if they prepared for it…

Not looking at him, Bucky stared out over the snow to where the realtor waited. She’d parked behind them and hadn’t left the car since she handed him the paperwork.

It might have rubbed him wrong except she asked if they wanted a tour and then hadn’t argued when they said no. The Compound was an hour away. He could stash a quinjet here and be there in ten minutes. He could be on call and at home. He could…

_Don’t_, he told himself. _Don’t get ahead of yourself._ Ops needed careful forethought and planning. Laura and he had been inching closer and she hadn’t brought up the divorce since Thanksgiving. She’d kissed him back the last time he’d kissed her.

“Well?” Bucky asked after a moment.

“I want it,” Clint admitted.

Bucky glanced up at the house then at him. “It’s a good location, needs some provisioning and reinforcement…”

“It’s a great place. You haven’t been out to the farm in Iowa but—I think this would work if I could talk Laura into it.”

“You take her out on a date yet?” The question jerked him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

Putting a foot on the stairs, Bucky glanced at him briefly then resumed his study of the area. Clint could just barely hear traffic out on the road, but it was distant and faint. If he _heard_ a car here, it was close.

“Did you take your _wife_ on a date yet?”

“Haven’t exactly had time. We—had an evening over Thanksgiving, but Nate’s been sick since they got here this time.” And he’d meant to go out to the farm after Thanksgiving, surprise Laura—but then Nat had been taken and he’d needed to be here.

“You make the time. You want her to move in here with your kids and you…”

“It’s okay if it’s not me,” he said even if it wasn’t. “They’d be closer. I could see them more often.”

The look Bucky gave him said _bullshit_ loud and clear. “You make the time. You need us to look after the kids, you say the word.”

“Nat’s not in the headspace for that right now.”

“Natalia wouldn’t be alone. Steve, me, Peter—Hell Tony would watch them and I know Wanda volunteered before. You want that woman to be your wife, you treat her like she’s the best thing that ever happened to you. You want to buy her this place, that’s good—but that’s about you. That’s about the kids. You gotta do something that’s about her.”

Clint scrubbed a chilled hand against his face, then dug his gloves out to drag them on.

“I’ll talk to Wanda about New Year’s… and…”

“Clint,” Bucky said. “We’re gonna be in Wakanda by then.”

“Fuck,” he exhaled. “You two are going to Montana soon aren’t you?”

“Yeah, you don’t have to go.” The statement irked him.

“If you think I’m letting her…”

“Steve and Tony will be there, holding back, they can be backup. You can concentrate on your wife. Natalia would want you too.”

“Yeah, and my _wife_ would want me watching our crazy Russian’s back.” But Bucky wasn’t wrong. “I’ll make the time—_before_ we go.”

The other man nodded. “This feels like it could be a home,” he said, glancing up at it.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Clint stepped down and stared up. Everything about the place was inviting. They didn’t have to sell the farm in Iowa. It could be a backup—a safe house. A place to go that was already off the grid. “Am I being selfish in wanting to bring them here?”

“Yes,” Bucky said, then clasped his shoulder. “But you want to be with your family and your team. They want to be with you. This is a good compromise.”

“Okay, let’s go see if we have to do paperwork or if we can do a down payment and lock this in and go find your Natasha dream house.”

The other man snorted. “I dare you to call it that to her face.”

“You think I won’t?” He smirked. “Besides, you’re the one who calls her a doll.”

It was Bucky’s turn to smirk. “She’s always let me.”

That too was true. They trudged across the snow toward the realtor who hustled out of the car at their approach. He’d need to get Isaiah in on this, too. He needed a name to buy this place under and he was pretty sure he had the right one.

~~~

Natasha’s text should have surprised him more, maybe, but it didn’t. Of course, she took steps to protect Wanda even at the cost to herself. The clarity in the message told him a lot. That and the fact she sent it before anyone else filled them in. She was okay.

_Green?_ He sent.

**Natasha:** _Green._

A glance sideways in the car showed Bucky studying his phone.

“Natasha?”

“Yes,” he said slowly, his attention on his phone.

“She’ll do anything to protect people.”

“I know—” But there was something in his voice.

“Talk to me, what’s going through your head?” He slid a glance at him before turning to the road.

“She says she did it because the experiments that gave Wanda her powers were something she volunteered for, but they weren’t pleasant and she’s always trying to make up for her past.”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “When Wanda and her twin brother were nine or ten, ordinance hit their building, killed their parents instantly, and destabilized the building. The kids hid under the bed. There was an unexploded shell a few feet from them. They spent the whole night waiting for it to go off. It was Stark Industries munitions, they were orphaned, terrified, and alone. They blamed Tony. They lived on the streets in a country that struggled under ethnic conflicts, then they met Strucker and volunteered so they’d never be helpless again.”

He kept his tone even, because all the emotion in the world wouldn’t help here. The kids had been that—kids. They made some bad calls, but they’d done what they could to save themselves.

Bucky texted Natasha back and glanced at him. “Her brother died.”

“Yeah—after we took down Strucker and his operation, the kids were on the field but we couldn’t make them out.” His side still occasionally twinged from the shot he’d taken. “Later they fell in with Ultron or Ultron recruited them. Our next encounter ended badly, Wanda got in everyone’s heads—she’d gotten into Tony’s at Strucker’s—gave him some nightmare he doesn’t talk about. But for Nat… she ripped into Nat, pulled open a memory from the Red Room she hadn’t had and it—It really threw her at the time.”

Getting her and the rest of the team out had been a priority. Thor and Steve had been out of it, too. They’d shaken it off, but Bruce and Nat had taken the hardest hits.

“Anyway, flash forward to South Korea, Ultron and the kids went after Helen Cho for her cradle technology and they were in the process of building Vision when we got there. Something Wanda saw in Vision’s mind—she couldn’t see Ultron’s but she could see Vision’s—warned her of what Ultron’s real intentions were. The kids switched sides. Helped Steve save a lot people.”

With a sigh, Clint shook his head.

“Meanwhile, Nat and I got the cradle as Ultron’s alternates were trying to fly it away. Well, you know, Nat got it.”

“Do I want to know?”

A huff of a laugh and Clint shook his head. “Considering I had to catch it with a quinjet and Ultron snatched her away and took her? Probably not.” Steve had sent him back to New York with the cradle even though they didn’t have eyes on Nat. He’d been distracted and it hadn’t sunk in until too late that Ultron had taken her and by then…

“Anyway…” Clint pushed on. “We tracked them back to Sokovia. Nat sent me a coded message on an old line—Morse code.”

“She’s good,” Bucky murmured.

“Yes, she is. Then it all kind of went to Hell…” The city was flying, robots everywhere, Wanda had a panic attack and Clint had told her if she didn’t want to fight he’d send her brother to get her, but if she walked out those doors and got into it, she was an Avenger.

“Toward the end, I was getting a kid to one of the lifeboats and Ultron did a strafing run, heavy fire, no way I could avoid it. Pietro—Wanda’s brother—pushed me out of the way. Died saving me and that kid. It tore her up.” Tore Clint up.

That kid—that kid was a pain in the ass—had his whole life in front of him and he’d died to save Clint.

“She blames herself, it’s better now. Natasha’s—always been good with her.”

“So are you,” Bucky pointed out. “That makes sense why Natalia would never want her to experience the Red Room, not even second-hand.”

“Yeah,” Clint exhaled and braced his elbow against the driver’s side door and his fist against his temple as he kept his gaze on the road. “She’s okay.”

“Natalia wouldn’t have been the one to tell us if she wasn’t,” Bucky said drily, then slid his phone away. “How much further?”

“A bit…why, you getting sleepy?”

His snort made them both laugh.

~~~

Ninety minutes later, Clint followed the long drive from the highway, deep into the woods as the road narrowed and grew rutted and the depth of the snow required the chains on the tires to make it through. The realtor had paused at the turnoff and provided them with the code key to get in and a packet on the property. Her instructions, she’d told them, were to wait there. She’d glanced at her watch because it was getting dark but she didn’t ask them to hurry.

If not for the fact she said the road would take them to the house, Clint would have turned back. They had maybe thirty minutes of daylight left and there wasn’t a streetlamp or power line in sight.

“Where is this place?”

“There,” Bucky said, his eyes narrowed as he pointed. Even with Clint’s vision, he had to squint in the gathering dusk. The road curved toward the stone face of a rocky escarpment. Despite having seen a photo, it still couldn’t match the place and there was no light until they reached the circular drive and then the motion sensors lit up the front.

“Holy shit,” he exhaled. The whole front of the _house_ was in the cliff. The stone itself made up the facing; there were windows and doors. But the windows had no glare or reflection of the light. Even a dozen yards back and it hadn’t looked like a house; it had looked like a cliff.

Parking, they both stepped out into the snow. It was deeper here. No one had plowed it out. The snow had blown up against the “house” and left it with a frosted appearance.

Using the code key provided by the realtor, they let themselves in, but only after Bucky had studied the woods and the angles. They’d both taken a step back and stared up at the cliff. Clint could scale it, probably by hand, but easier if he had a bow to get a rope up to the top and secure it.

The Winter Soldier wouldn’t have any trouble and neither would Steve. They would need to get up there and look. If the outside impressed him, the inside took his breath away. Bucky handed him the paperwork and began a methodical search.

10,000 square feet. Eight bedrooms, and six bathrooms on 356.9 acres. The whole of it was built right into the cliff. There was a fallout shelter below ground. A full kitchen with all the amenities with strategically placed windows that let in light but Clint hadn’t noticed from the outside.

That was some serious camouflage work. The walls were carved out of the stone. The floors were stone with heavy rugs in places. Three fireplaces on the first floor. But what caught him completely off guard was the huge sitting room around a damn waterfall.

There was a waterfall feeding into a pool that ran through rivets in the floor and then out somewhere. An under the floor spring originating deep within the heart of the cave fed the waterfall. The water smelled fresh and the air was only slightly humid. The paperwork said it had a geothermal heating system, and generator-provided power fueled by wind turbines. Replace that with an ARC reactor and they’d be set.

It was _off _the grid.

More there was an exercise and weight room, there was also space for a dance studio. The set up had minimal furniture, but—the place was huge and despite the cavernous setup, it wasn’t closed in. There were stairs leading up and down. They curved, but the layout design said there were other stairs. There were barn doors on the rooms; they could be left open for a wide-open floor plan or slid closed.

He found Bucky in what had to be a master suite staring at the bathroom.

“You are so buying this place,” he told him as he clapped him on the shoulder. The shower was eight feet long and four feet wide and took up a whole wall. There were multiple showerheads. The bathtub was a sunken tub with jets on it. All three of them would fit with room for more.

The other bathrooms were nice, almost as nice as the master, but with smaller shower spaces. Whoever designed the master had decadence in mind.

Lighting was inlaid into the walls and along the top. It wasn’t hot, either. So temperature regulation had to be simpler. The spring could probably keep it cool in the summer months but being built into a cave would help.

“Checking outside,” he called.

“Understood,” Bucky responded.

Zipping up his coat, Clint pulled a flashlight from the car and went looking. Night was—_dark_ out here. The lights from the motion sensors provided a warm puddle of light but it wasn’t blinding. They could add something more significant for emergencies.

He found a maintenance barn tucked in the woods and it took some wading through the snow to get it. The paperwork said there was a landing pad on the top of the escarpment, but with the tree cover, they could build a quinjet shed to hide or park it below the tree line and leave it cloaked.

They’d have to trap a few of the trees to eliminate their sightlines, but the woods, the natural location, the lack of utilities traveling out here.

Yeah. They were so getting this and if Clint had a few million he could lay his hands on, he’d buy it. They could hole up here for years if they had to. There was a garage also tucked into the cliff, but he had to look for it. Like the rest of the place, it was camouflaged.

Who the hell built this? A former spec ops spy with a penchant for paranoia and a huge wallet?

He almost laughed. If he were Nat, this was the kind of place she would build if she wanted to be off-grid entirely.

By the time he made it back inside, Bucky called for him to come upstairs. Once on the second floor, Clint found another set of steps and followed those up. The third floor was narrower but there were windows at either end and it was a long, open space.

Dance studio.

Bucky stood in the center of it, arms folded. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely nothing,” Clint told him. “At least nothing I found, we need to run a background check on who built it. Have you checked the fallout shelter in the basement yet?”

“Yes,” Bucky said. “It’s perfect. Too perfect.”

“You said you thought Friday found it.”

“I’m starting to wonder if she built it, but I don’t know if even she could have done this in a month.”

“It’s 3.7 million dollars.” That was a hard fact.

“I know,” Bucky told him. “I have 2.8 after the settlement and a promise of another 1.2 apparently due to hazard pay but that won’t be in until after the New Year.”

“That’s every dime you have, you sure you want—”

“Yes,” Bucky pivoted to face him. “She deserves this and a lot more. We found one home together, but this—this would be better. We can escape here, be close enough if there’s an assemble but have time, too. Time to just get away from all the demands and if she has to ramp up into the Accords again, she’ll need this.”

Neither of them mentioned her getting her memories back. They didn’t have to.

She’d need quiet, then, too.

“If you get Tony to give you an ARC reactor, maybe wire an AI in to monitor when you’re not here—it’s always here and it’s always safe. You need to vanish, you’re gone.”

“One more sweep,” Bucky said after a moment. “Look for anything wrong with it.”

Clint said nothing as the other man stalked off to descend the stairs. Sound didn’t carry or echo. Pivoting in a circle, Clint tried to imagine Nat here and he could see it.

He could see him and Laura at the house just ninety minutes away, and Nat with her boyfriends here. Not full time, not at first, but she had the Tower and the Compound. This—this would be what Bucky intended it to be.

Their escape hatch. A place the three of them got away.

Though if things kept going the way they looked like it was, it might be four of them after all.

Yeah, he shook his head. Life was way simpler before she started dating all the boys.

Heading downstairs, he drifted from room to room. They could convert one of the bedrooms into a studio for Steve. Maybe set up a lab for Bucky and Peter.

No way Spider-Punk wasn’t ending up out here. Plenty of room for Clint and Laura and the kids to visit. More room for them to grow…

Downstairs, he found Bucky waiting, his normally stoic expression relaxed and a little dazed.

“Are congratulations in order?”

“If they take my offer—or I might be borrowing money from Tony. I want Natalia to have this place. I want us to have this place.”

“Well then, let’s go talk to the realtor and then we both need to call Isaiah.”

“And then I have to figure out how to buy an AI flowers—course after I pay for this, I might have to go pick the flowers, but I can do that.”

Clint laughed. The sound freeing as Bucky grinned. It was one of those rare, truly open smiles the man had and didn’t often share.

Yeah, Nat would fit in here really well.

He slapped the paperwork and folder against Bucky’s chest. “Let’s go talk numbers.”

Blowing out a breath, Bucky nodded and after one last look, he followed Clint out.

How did you send an AI flowers? He’d have to figure that one out, too.


	34. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve go shopping while Natasha and Peter take dinner to May

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

_Surprises_

**Steve**

They took a nondescript SUV. Tony had flashy cars and he had high-speed ones. He even had one that could double as a tank, but they took a dark, standard SUV and headed out on the road. The conversation in his office after Natasha left had wandered from topic to topic, yet always keeping the one person who gave them an excuse to repair their friendship firmly in their sights.

Call Steve cautiously optimistic, but it was right there. The sense of welcome, of knowing he could count on Tony and, that in turn, Tony counted on him. They’d kicked over the landmines. Their feelings for Natasha were on the table and where Steve had once worried about Tony being the one guy who could take her away, that he could change the fragile dynamic Steve had been building with Natasha, with Bucky—that had faded away, too.

Tony wasn’t trying to come between them.

He just didn’t want to be left alone and at the same time, he was willing to be left behind if that was what _Natasha_ wanted. Looking back, it had been present when they found in her Vienna. The antagonistic, snark-filled friendship between the pair existed long before SHIELD fell or the falling out over the Accords. Tony, like Steve, had made a choice. But Tony had been with Pepper before, so maybe it had been easier to bury.

When he’d stood outside the isolation chamber after the mission to Alaska went sideways, Tony had been offended on Natasha’s behalf and protective. Steve had been an ass, he’d put her on the spot and forced her to choose. That… that was done. But the one thing Tony said that had lingered, echoing quietly in the weeks since as Tony grew more and more indelible in their lives—in her life.

_“Until the day she says she wants something more, I’m only ever going to be her friend.”_

Shaking his head, he shifted in the seat. The storms had stopped, but they weren’t gone. Plows were out clearing roads as much as they could, spreading salt and sand. Stores were open and practically begging people to come in and shop. With the holidays right around—no, wait. They weren’t around the corner. They were here. They were the next day and Christmas the day after that. They were _at_ the holidays.

Natasha was _safe_ and back with them.

_For now_, a voice in the back of his head murmured. The days counting down to Montana, to Wakanda, to experimental treatment to help restore her ransacked memory. Before Strange’s visit, he thought he knew how he felt about it. Confidence in Shuri combined with the fact Natasha had reached out on his advice had bolstered the confidence. Bucky had been guarded in his optimism and now…

_“Steve, look at me.” Tony set his coffee down and locked gazes with him. “Listen to me. This—right here—this is important. You see the best in people and the best in their situations. That’s above and beyond. It makes people want to be better than they are. But right here and right now… you need to open your eyes and accept that this procedure could give Red everything she wants and cost her far more than we would ever want her to pay and that could change her. I’m not saying it will, but it could. You have to be ready for that. You have to be braced. Because if that happens, she’s going to need us more than ever—she’s going to need you and that unshakable damn moral compass.”_

_Just hearing that had left him nauseated. “That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?”_

_Tony eyed him._

_“You’re planning for what happens if it goes wrong. For whatever that might be…” That was what Tony did. He fixed things and he’d been trying to fix things for Natasha for months—first getting the team back, freeing her from the past, bringing her in from the cold and then bringing her home from The Mandarin. Now, this._

_“Hope for the best,” Tony told him. “Plan for the worst. I’ll be there every step of the way, Friday and I are working on a way to pull her out if we have to and modifying the tech so it’s more compatible with her, more suited to her needs—hopefully, it’s enough.” _

If it wasn’t enough? They’d find something else. That was what they did.

“Don’t sweat it so hard over there, Steve. The shop will be empty—and they’ll be paid well enough to keep it to themselves and you can peruse to your heart’s content.”

His heart’s content. Steve almost snorted. In truth, he’d worked on forgetting where they were going. But now, the distraction had all of his attention. When Bucky told him if he won then Steve had to go to a sex shop and pick out at least one toy for Natasha, he’d thought he’d been joking.

Later, Bucky told him nope. Clint had taken him to one and then Bucky had shown him a couple of the items he’d picked up. Including a butt plug. Steve didn’t even know they made those things, but it had actually been pretty.

If that was a word they could apply to it.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, not disbelieving for a second that Bucky and she had likely experimented with at least a couple of the items.

“I’m sure,” Bucky told him. “She’s asking us to take it out of her hands. So—you go and get a toy or two. Get your feet wet, so to speak, then when we play, you’ll have some ideas.”

Restraints. She wasn’t opposed to them. Bet lost, he’d actually thought Bucky would be going with him, but then he’d taken off with Clint on whatever project he’d been working on and off the last few weeks—at least since Thanksgiving. Bucky was good at keeping secrets, but with him? Steve usually knew when he was holding back.

He’d known after Zola had Bucky that there were things he wasn’t telling Steve. Drumming his fingers against his thighs, Steve sighed. “I wasn’t worrying about it until you told me not to worry.”

Tony took the little jab as intended with a grin. “It’s going to be great. Like I said, need to know the hard limits.”

“Define hard limits.”

“Limits in sexual adventurousness,” Tony said, his tone relaxed and conversational. It notched down some of the tension in Steve’s shoulders. His tendency to go beet red had dialed down in the last couple of months. Natasha had introduced him to an entirely new world when it came to sex and sharing her with Bucky had proven to him on more than one level that she’d been right about the fact he had some voyeuristic tendencies.

Somehow, Steve doubted that was what Tony meant.

“Okay,” Tony continued after a glance at him. “My hard limits—I don’t want to be slapped or hit. Handcuffs are fine. Edging is fine. Just know when is too far and those all require a partner I really trust. Now, anyway.”

Restraints.

No handcuffs. That was what Natasha had meant. He’d understood it on one level, but now…

“The other way also applies, a woman wants me to spank her, fine, but I’m not going to inflict real damage on her. Hands sure, maybe a paddle and that’s stretching it. She likes it a little rougher—I’m good with that, just not going to try and hurt her.”

“Does that really excite a woman? Spanking her?” He’d slapped Natasha’s ass once and he’d threatened to spank her before, but… really?

“Depends on the woman. Some men enjoy it, too. I’m not one of them. Physical pain doesn’t generally turn me on, that said I don’t mind when a woman bites me so there are degrees to it.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Steve had to ask, “How much of this conversation are you planning to tease me on later?”

“Twelve percent and probably not in mixed company.”

Chuckling, Steve said, “Let me guess, the twelve percent will vary depending on the day.”

Tony cocked his thumb and forefinger at him. “Bingo. You’re learning, Cap. I’m going to get weepy over here. So—hard limits go.” They were on the state highway moving at a good clip.

“I like some sting…nails digging in, but not a fan of being hit. I get enough of that in my day job,” he said, resuming the drum of his nails on his thigh. “Pretty sure I’m not a fan of restraints.” There’d been a flash of panic when they’d gotten the one cuff on him in the elevator. It had only made him fight that much harder. But Natasha didn’t need restraints to make him sit still; he would if she asked him. “Not sure I’ve figured out other things that I’d really like—”

“Beyond Red?”

Drily, Steve said, “Yes, Natasha is definitely what I like.”

“That’s fair, I’m not judging. It just means if you’re open to experimenting you have to also recognize that you’re going to have varying comfort levels. Some things are going to be hard no’s, if it’s a hard no; you need to be clear on it. Now, what are your hard limits for doing?”

“I don’t want to hurt her.” There was no point in being vague on his partner. Having this kind of discussion with Bucky was one thing, but it was less awkward with Tony than it might have been. Maybe it had a lot to do with how easily he spoke on the subject and that he hadn’t been lampooning Steve other than that choked laughter in the beginning. 

The next time Steve sparred with Bucky, he planned to kick his ass for leaving him in this situation. On the other hand, Tony seemed to be genuinely trying to help. That was no small feat.

“Not real pain,” Steve said slowly. “Restraints, but only if she asked and I’d never bind her wrists.” Clint had warned him about that in Switzerland. Later, learning she’d handcuffed herself to the bed at night as a child—just another piece of the psychological trauma inflicted on her? Yeah. No thank you. Then again, she didn’t object when they pinned her—except when she did. Like now, when she was so touch sensitive and shying away from contact even when she wanted more. Every day seemed a step forward, but sometimes it seemed for every two they went forward, they slipped back a step.

“Spanking?”

“If she liked it,” he admitted. “It feels like I shouldn’t enjoy something like that but at the same time I can admit the idea is tempting especially…” Probably better not to finish that thought.

“Nothing wrong with being open about your kink. You certainly didn’t have trouble when Red was teasing me in Canada.”

Steve frowned… oh. “Whether you were a voyeur or not.” In retrospect, that probably hadn’t been his finest hour. “Do I need to apologize?”

“Nope,” Tony said. “Water under the bridge. So beyond a little mild spanking, playful restraint, that’s about it? No edging issues?”

“No. Giving or taking…” He’d only managed it a couple of times with her, but God had it been worth it on the far side. “Though taking can feel like torture.”

“But in the best ways,” Tony said with a grin then took an exit off the state highway and headed up another long stretch. They’d cleared this. “All right, so what we’re most likely looking for are some vanilla kink toys to let you try them out, silk ropes…”

“Silk ropes?”

“Silk ties are better, they don’t abrade the skin and you can create the sensation of restraint without harming, also if you get good at knotting it can look pretty.”

There must have been a blank look on his face.

“I’m buying you a book on Shibari. Read it. Great stuff.”

A laugh escaped, then a chuckle, and finally Steve’s shoulders shook as he fought the laughter.

“Just hitting where you’re going, Cap?”

“No,” he said, wiping the corners of his eyes. “Just realizing how damn relieving this conversation is and at the same time appalled that I find it relieving.”

“Stick with the first, dismiss the second. We all need to take a break. I’m personally thanking your bestie for this later.” They swung into a small parking of a nearly deserted strip mall.

Steve’s phone buzzed just as Friday said, “Natasha and Mr. Parker are on their way into the city, Boss. She’s taking the quinjet and wanted me to inform you and Captain Rogers she will be back after dinner most likely as they are taking dinner to Mr. Parker’s aunt.”

“Thanks, Baby Girl,” Tony said as he put the vehicle in park. “Need to do something about the hospitals, add a residential wing or something, make sure they have a place for doctors, nurses, and other staff to stay that’s comfortable for long shifts or blizzards. Beef up their food offerings, too.”

Yep. Tony liked to fix things.

Steve glanced at his phone as he slid out of the car.

**Natasha:** _Peter wants me to meet his aunt. Keep your fingers crossed this goes well. James is still out with Clint, no ETA on when they’ll be back. We’ll be back probably after dinnertime to get you guys, if I’m running late, I’ll let you know._

He smiled, then fired off a message. _His aunt is going to love you. It’ll be great, Angel. You’ll see. _

She sent back a crazy faced emoji and he chuckled. Every day, she got a little bit better. She’d held Wanda’s hand and hugged her without paling. The shadows underscoring Natasha's eyes had faded. When she'd told him she needed him to touch her more, help her to push past it—he’d done as she asked. Holding her hand would never be a hardship and she’d been responding more.

A little over a week he’d had her back and for the first time in that week she was somewhere without one of them. Peter was there, but…

“She’ll be fine, Cap,” Tony said quietly from the walk where he’d paused to wait for Steve. His breath fogged as he spoke. “She gave Friday permission track her, bracelet always on, full monitoring of her vitals.”

“We lost if for a bit in the building when it collapsed.” That had been a wrenching moment, but he’d trusted her, trusted Bucky and then he’d trusted Tony and Peter to get them out.

“Already fixing that little glitch with the new ones. The fact the field didn’t activate tells me the force around them wasn’t actually hitting her. Take our wins where we can get them.”

Steve nodded slowly. “You’re giving them to her on Christmas, aren’t you?”

“Yep, that’s my plan. Do you want me to wait?”

The offer was beyond generous. “No,” Steve told him. “I don’t.”

“Good. Because I’d probably have done it anyway.” The smirk eased some of the tension and Steve was pretty sure it was a combination of bravado and poking him a little because he could. “You ready to do this?”

“No, but that’s never stopped me before—_Uncle Tony_,” he dragged out the last two words and Tony’s smile grew. “Pass on what you have learned.”

“I’ll pass on some of it,” Tony promised. “Some trade secrets I have to keep. And remember, deep breaths. Everything in there is meant for pleasure, not terror.”

Five minutes later, Steve wasn’t so sure about that.

He stared at a wall of dildos. A whole wall. A wall that segregated them by function, color, design—and there was a Captain America version right in the center along with an Iron Man and he just—rubbing a hand over his face, he did not look at Tony who, hands in his pockets, rocked back and forth next to him as he studied the selection.

“They’ve added a few,” Tony said without a hint of his customary sarcasm.

“I’m so going to regret this question,” Steve said, reaching up to pluck the _Cap Your Pleasure_ from the wall and turning it over. The fact it was red, white, and blue along with the star that matched his shield wasn’t lost on him.

“There is no such thing as a bad question—well there are. But I’m going to answer you as seriously and soberly as possible. That’s why I’m here.” Tony’s assurance aside, he was examining the Thor model with his glasses half-lowered so he could look over the top of them.

The hammer on the handle was really not subtle.

“Well that and because it’s fun,” Steve pointed out.

“Yeah, it’s definitely a little fun. But come on, ask. What do you want to know?”

“Why would I need one of these for—her?” He had the equipment and she’d made zero complaints about it.

“Well, a few reasons—one, sometimes women like to self-pleasure and it can be fun to watch.”

Maybe he’d regret later, but it was also a little fascinating to think about. It conjured the memory of the night at Niagara Falls and watching Natasha. It had been pure erotic torture. He’d never wanted to touch so badly in his life.

Okay, that argument had merit.

“Dual penetration can increase the pleasure for both parties.” Thank God, Tony didn’t delve into that, but yes, Steve was aware and he’d enjoyed his forays into sharing Natasha with Bucky.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he read the advertisements on the back about varying speeds and thrusting action. Apparently as good as the real thing—well, Natasha could answer that for him.

“And sometimes, it’s fun to use it on your partner, let’s you amp up their pleasure and take your time. It’s great for edging.”

That he could believe.

“Still regretting the question?”

“No,” he said slowly before setting the package back on the hook. Very deliberately _not_ focusing on the large green one labeled _Hulk Smash _because that was just—yeah, no. _Not_ going there.

Thankfully, the store was empty. When they’d come inside, Tony had stopped to chat with the man behind the counter… not a woman, a man, and Steve’s relief had been immediate. It was embarrassing enough to be in the shop, he didn’t know if he could look a dame in the eye.

Clitoral stimulators.

The sheer number of those rivaled the dildos.

He’d half-expected Tony to walk him around and point things out, but the man just trailed along, glancing at items and waiting for Steve’s questions. Some he got without having to ask—they were pretty explicit. The fact there were Avengers models of nearly…

_Black Widow’s Bite_

The words leapt out at him and he shifted directions abruptly. It wasn’t with the dildos; it was in a male vibrator section. Irritation twined with curiosity as he stared at the silhouette on the packaging. There was no mistaking who that was supposed to be.

“Male vibrators,” Tony told him, leaning against the display. “Haven’t seen this one.”

It offered a furrow long enough to accommodate the shaft, eight different vibrating patterns and twelve different levels of intensity to transport the user to a world where only her bite could satisfy.

His cock twitched at the language, but at the same time. It was degrading, minimizing her down to just what pleasure she could give. The back added more details on the motors used to generate intense stimulation and different modes could give the feel of suction, vaginal penetration or a good old-fashioned handjob.

“Steve,” Tony said quietly. “It’s not about her, it’s about selling the product and letting guys imagine it’s her.”

“That doesn’t really help.”

“No, but it doesn’t touch her either. I guarantee you guys have been spanking off to the thought of her for a long time. They don’t get the real thing and they never will.”

With care, Tony plucked the item from his hand and put it back.

“That’s not her. Never will be. Just like those dildos over there aren’t us. It’s fun to think people enjoy the fun they get out of it, but it’s their imaginations, their kink, not ours.”

“Yeah?” Steve eyed him then nodded to the sheath. “That doesn’t tempt you?”

“No,” Tony said. “Like I said, it’s not her.” He pushed away and moved a few feet to look at another display. Oddly enough, Tony's answer made him feel better. Steve followed him. There was so much to see.

The bet said to get a toy for her, something to play with her with and he glanced back at the cock vibrators. It would serve Bucky right if he got him one of those and had Natasha test it out on him.

The corner of his mouth quirked up and he studied the wall, the different ones before moving along. Cock rings, strap-ons—he stared at those for a long time, long enough that Tony cleared his throat but Steve shook his head.

“Hard limit?” Tony guessed.

“Pretty sure,” Steve said. “Definitely not feeling like I want to know.” At least not with something that looked like that.

“Fair deal.”

Then because he’d begun to relax, he asked, “You?”

Tony glanced at him. “Me?” Then he studied the strap-ons. “For the right woman and only after I modified it.”

That actually caught him off-guard. While there was no doubt in his mind who the right woman was in that scenario, he had to ask, “What modifications?”

Lifting one off the wall, Tony flipped it over. “See this piece here, it inserts to help her balance and control it while she’s wearing it. If this vibrates and cups a little more, you can stimulate her pleasure at the same time. No point in getting off if it’s just a one-way street.”

Heat scorched his face and all his control over the flushing reaction went out the window. Tony smirked, then put it back and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come look at butt plugs and take your mind off those.”

Yeah. That didn’t work.

But they actually made pretty ones. The one Bucky had gotten her had been metal, gently shaped with a crystal on the end of it. Steve kind of wished he’d seen it in action. It was probably beautiful.

Then his gaze landed on a plug with his shield on it and another with a hammer and a third with the model of the ARC reactor. Yeah, he didn’t think he’d get used to that, but he did find one with a gem on the end—it was a faux emerald. It didn’t take much to picture the image.

He marked that one mentally, that was a possibility. Though, if he got it, they would have two so maybe not. More wandering resulted in nipple toys—including clamps—bondage toys. He found the silk ropes Tony mentioned, blindfolds, cuffs which he completely ignored, feather ticklers, gags—no—riding crops—hell no—a paddle—no, not really—bondage bar—just a hard no. He wasn’t sure much in this section appealed.

Too much of it looked like torture gear. The collars were pretty—some of them—the silk rope, maybe and the feather ticklers.

“Trying not to judge,” Steve said slowly. “But do people really enjoy this much pain in their sex?”

“Some do, some want the bite. They want the contrast. You can release a lot of endorphins when you can add a little pain to the pleasure. It’s about getting them outside of their head. Don’t think of it as beating someone up in a fight, there’s control and power, and yes, there’s pain. But suffering isn’t the goal. Here…” Tony removed a flogger and held it over to him. “Feel those.”

The straps were all softer than he expected.

“You don’t have to strike with force to get a reaction. Sometimes a light brush, a little slap and tickle, if you will excuse the euphemism, can bring all the focus to sensitive areas.”

He considered it. It didn’t seem so bad. But it remained a no without a conversation with Natasha ahead of time. He avoided the fur tail butt plugs for the same reason.

“Maybe something like this,” Tony suggested motioning to the boxes on the lower level.

Crouching, Steve read them. Sex games. It was a board game of sorts with cards, daring them to try different things or follow different instructions. Titillating without going over the line.

There was even a section for sex furniture and around the corner—lingerie and other outfits. Some were full latex bodysuits that reminded him of Natasha’s tact suit.

The bras and panties and little sheer dresses were all cute and as much as he told himself not to do it, he checked to see if their Avengers theme carried over.

There was a section for Avengers lingerie and sure enough it had a Black Widow suit with strategically placed holes.

Just no.

Then he paused as his gaze landed on another rack of outfits and the trip suddenly took on a whole different layer of meaning.

“Yep,” Tony said. “Absolutely.”

It’d end up being a gift for Bucky, too, but Steve definitely didn’t mind sharing. Even if Tony was picturing her wearing it right now, Steve definitely admired the mental image it conjured.

Tony wandered away and came back, then handed him a book. “You good? I thought I’d pick up a few gifts while I’m here.”

A beat of silence passed and Steve pinned him with a look. “Do _not_ buy me anything…”

“Aww, not even for you and Red?” Tony grinned. “I have so many ideas, big guy.”

The temptation to beat his own head against the book was strong. “Just remember there are kids present.”

“I can save them for a quieter time,” Tony chuckled. “But seriously, you good?”

“I think so,” he said glancing down at the book and captivated by the woman tied up on the front. It was elegant and beautiful. Flipping it open, he read the first page and studied the images accompany the introduction.

Silk ropes suddenly took on a whole new meaning and these were… they were beautifully done. She’d said she was okay with restraint, would she be okay with letting him see if he could create something like this?

“Yep,” Tony hummed as he moved away. “Saw that one coming.”

Glancing back, he followed Tony with his gaze as the man wandered past the racks of lingerie back toward the toys on the wall. He was really glad he’d asked Tony now. From the book, he glanced back at the Princess Leia metal bikini outfit. Without Tony present, he tested it and found it sturdy and the price indicated it wasn’t a cheap knockoff.

Natasha would look gorgeous in it.

Then again, she’d look gorgeous in a brown paper bag… or, he glanced down at the book, in intricately designed knots and ropes.

When his phone rang, he glanced up from the wall of ropes and pulled it out. Bucky’s name was on the screen. Speak of the devil who got him into this mess…

Then again, Natasha’s face when she asked whether she’d enjoy whatever the bet was or not filled his mind’s eye. She’d been intrigued and playful. So maybe not the devil, but still… when he answered the phone, he said, “If our mas could see where I am now, they’d box both of our ears.”

Bucky’s surprised yet earnest laughter pulled a grin out of him; he tucked the book down into the basket with the four items he’d already placed in it. Tony was working on something on his phone, but he had a basket of his own and he’d already gone to the register to have it sacked up. He hadn’t let Steve see what he’d purchased and he was making a conscious effort to not look at what Steve had been picking out.

“You went.” It wasn’t a question. Bucky almost sounded proud.

“Yeah, and when I accidentally dislocate your arm again you’re going to know why.” Despite the words, the longer he’d been here and the more he’d studied the options, the less his irritation had been. Tony had been enormously helpful in _normalizing_ it. That said, he couldn’t imagine Natasha’s face when she figured it out.

She would.

She was Natasha.

“Worth it,” Bucky told him. “Genuinely worth it. You don’t sound like you died from shame or shock, so I’ll count it as a win.”

“Silk rope,” he told him. “How much should I get?”

“Depends on how many options we want to have.”

They had options for eight and for ten meters. They also had different colors. He glanced down at the book in the basket, and then chose each of the varying color options they had in the ten meters range.

“At the moment, all I can see are options, not sure how much she really wants this.”

“She’d never have asked for it if she didn’t,” Bucky told him. “Trust Natalia, Stevie.”

He did. “Point. So where did you sneak off to with Clint?”

“If I’d snuck off, I wouldn’t have told you I was leaving.”

Steve chuckled. “Point of order, you didn’t tell me. You told Nat and Friday.”

“It’s a good thing I called to check in.”

“Sure,” Steve said. Bucky had ducked the implied question. “Nat went into the city.”

“With Peter, yeah, she told me. She also told us about Wanda and said you weren’t happy with her.”

“No, I’m not, but I also get it,” Steve said with a sigh. “For the record, I’m fine.”

“But it threw you.” Again, it was like Bucky had eyes on him or something.

Huffing out a sigh, he said, “I hope you never see her with that thousand-yard stare and her eyes sheened in red. I remembered the last time it happened and it wasn’t good. This time—she seemed more her and it was her idea.”

“I get it, Stevie, I do. And I have seen that stare,” Bucky told him, his tone neutral. “So, I really do understand.”

Shit, Bucky had to have seen it. “Dammit…”

“It’s fine. No landmines.” No landmines. It was all clear. It was just a fact. Sometimes Bucky and Nat both acted like all the shit they went through was normal and they rolled with it. They discussed tortures like some people did the weather. Other times, there was danger in those waters. Steve waded in regardless. He could take the hits and he could offer the support.

They were worth it.

No landmines meant it was fine, he was good and to let it go. Taking the hits and offering support also meant listening to what they needed. And he was getting damned good at it.

A glance toward Tony found him frowning at his phone. Somewhere along the way, it had all begun to apply to Tony and to a lesser extent Clint. Maybe it was that all five of them had gone through after finding Nat and dealing with Russia while having Bucky back.

Or maybe it was just that the four of them were all tied to Nat and that was the way it was going to be.

“Did I lose you?” Bucky said drawing him out of his thoughts.

“No, I’m here, what’s up? And before you go, I have a question for you.”

“We need to do something for Natalia tomorrow—something—bigger. This Christmas is the first one but it’s also right before Wakanda and…”

“You want to make it special. Well, lucky you, Nat apparently wants to do something fun, too so Tony and I made plans.”

“Read me in?”

Steve told him and at the end of it, Bucky chuckled. “Nice… you do dates well Stevie.”

“A lot of it was Tony’s idea.” Tony was still preoccupied so Steve lifted the basket and then paused at the feather ticklers. He added a couple before he moved away. “And he’s going to be with us.”

“Good.” That shouldn’t surprise him. “We’re still some distance away, probably be just after dinner when we make it back.”

Steve checked his watch. It was closer to dinnertime than he’d realized. He’d been in the shop for longer than he imagined. “That’s fine, we’re probably hanging out until Nat and Pete get back unless we just drive back in.”

“We’ll see how they’re doing…what was your question?”

Exhaling a breath. “Do you know what hard limits are?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know Nat’s?”

“I’ll text them. You know most of them, Stevie.” There’d been moments, they’d both had them, but sometimes…

“Thanks. Will I find out what you’ve been up to then?”

A soft chuckle. “We’ll see you later.”

The call disconnected and he shook his head. Definitely up to something. His phone buzzed a minute later.

Yep.

He’d been right.

Then a second buzz.

_Don’t be afraid to be adventurous. She knows how to say no and I think she’d appreciate it. _

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Steve glanced around the shop. His phone buzzed a third time and there was a message from Friday.

_I took the opportunity to provide you with a common check list for hard and soft limits in sexual interactions and kink negotiation. Boss had a template on file, it’s clear so you and Natasha can make your own selections if that would be helpful._

On the one hand, it was almost sweet. On the other, there were things about Tony he’d been learning today that he wasn’t sure he ever needed to know. Then again, Tony had been open and relaxed which let Steve relax, too. 

_Thank you, Friday._

Determination along with a little exhilaration filled him. Don't be afraid to be adventurous? All right. One more sweep. They might as well get all the toys.

**Natasha**

It was a little more crowded around the hospital this time, though the upper levels of the parking garage remained deserted. She’d considered landing at the Tower and taking a car over, but Friday reported some nasty traffic snarls as shoppers frantically headed for the shops to squeeze in all the last minute shopping they could after the storms shut everything down.

With another storm heading their way, the city was working twice as hard to clear the streets and there were still those people who’d lost their homes that morning. They’d packed food and brownies for May, loading it in thermal bags to keep it warm and this time, instead of letting Peter go in by himself, she followed him off the quinjet.

She’d kept it casual, t-shirt and jeans with boots, a heavy jacket with a knit cap tucked over her hair and her ears. Peter shot her a nervous grin as they stepped into the elevator and took it to the second level and then crossed the sky bridge into the hospital.

It was full, but not crowded. Peter knew where they were going; he’d checked his phone twice as he led the way. Natasha kept her head on a swivel. More than one person had given her a double-take. Her presence in the hospital would make the rounds soon enough. It was a little too warm for the jacket and knit cap, but she held on to the borrowed anonymity for now.

They stepped into another elevator and Peter gave her another nervous grin. “She’s just gotten a couple of hours off, so we’re going to meet her in the lounge on 8. It’s not a popular one and we can get some privacy.”

“I have eyes on the cameras, Natasha,” Friday murmured in her ear. “The hospital is near full to capacity, staff is still running at bare minimum. There are a couple of text chains announcing you’re there, but nothing on social media.”

“Sounds good,” she told Peter and Friday both.

“You have two clean exits from the eighth floor. I am ready to guide if the extraction is required.” The fact Friday understood why Natasha had mapped those out on her phone while Peter and Wanda flirted playfully—and sometimes painfully—over brownies relaxed some of the tension in her shoulders.

Rarely did she _want_ people to like her. In this instance, however, May was vital to Peter. If May took issue with her, it would create conflicts with Peter. So Natasha settled inside her skin, she’d adapt to whatever personality she needed to set the woman at ease.

The elevators opened to a nurse’s station where an older woman with graying hair and dressed in pink scrubs gave Peter a wide grin. “Peter!” She hustled out from behind the desk to give him a hug and Peter returned it with a sheepish grin. There was another nurse down the hall who’d glanced at them. The floor was quiet except… there was the faintest sound of a baby crying.

Her pulse jumped.

Maternity Ward. Those rooms were full of new moms and their infants.

The universe apparently wanted to slap her around today.

First the baby in the building and now this…

Natalia’s memories so close to the surface buffered her, but Peter was laughing. “Magda,” he said, motioning to Natasha. “This is a friend of mine.”

Well, here went nothing. She tugged off her gloves and shifted the bag to her left hand.

“Natasha Romanoff, this is Magda Johnson. She was the nurse on duty the day I was born.” Peter’s ears went a little red. “A fact she likes to remind me of.”

“Ms. Johnson,” Natasha said extending her hand.

The nurse studied her a moment then took her hand in a quick clasp. Thankfully, she didn’t linger but she did stare. “Ms. Romanoff…Peter since when did you become friends with an Avenger?”

One knot in her shoulder released.

He shrugged a shoulder and scuffed his shoes even as he ducked his head. The nervousness rising off of him had her settling more. Peter needed support, not her to be ready for an attack. Course, she could do both.

“Peter’s been interning with Tony Stark,” Natasha said. “He’s been at the Tower a few times. Very clever kid. With the storm, he’s stayed with us while his aunt had to work.”

“Speaking of which,” Peter said, brightening. “We’re going to meet her for dinner, so I’ll see you later?”

“Absolutely.” The woman gave Natasha another long look, then nodded. “Thanks for looking after our Peter.”

Possessive and protective. Natasha liked her.

“It’s my pleasure,” she assured her, then glanced at Peter. “Lead the way.”

He grinned and hurried off. Keeping her eyes open and trusting Friday to have her back, Natasha followed. The lounge was just a few doors down. It required a keycard to enter, but when he knocked, May Parker through the door open and Peter launched at her for a hug.

Catching the door, Natasha braced it as Peter half-lifted May before he set her down. “Almost forgot what you looked like,” May teased him before her gaze flicked from Peter to Natasha. At 5’5 with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, May was a looker and she didn’t seem to miss much.

“Aunt May, this is…”

“Natasha Romanoff,” she said slowly, her gaze assessing. Natasha kept her expression neutral as she pulled the knit cap off her head. The curls were a little smooshed but she didn’t much care at the moment. “I watch the news. May Parker.”

She didn’t extend her hand. Guarded protectiveness welled out of her and Natasha could respect that.

Nodding once, Natasha held up the thermal bags. “Peter’s told me a lot about you and we brought dinner along with some brownies.”

One arm around Peter’s shoulders, May studied her intently. Natasha allowed it because this was Peter’s aunt, but she kept herself in neutral. Peter trusted and adored her, all of her background checks said she was an exceptional woman and Tony said she made aunts look hot; Natasha must have started a trend. She’d thumped him and rolled her eyes, but he wasn’t wrong… May was definitely hot.

Peter shot a nervous glance between them. “Natasha flew me over with the food, like she did at Thanksgiving.”

That seemed to jolt May a bit and then she exhaled a long breath as if making a decision. “That’s incredibly nice of you. It’s also been great that you and Tony have let Peter stay with you.”

“He’s not so bad,” Natasha said. “He even puts his dirty dishes in the sink.”

It was absolutely the right thing to say because the stiffness leached out of her posture and May’s smile grew. “So that’s where he learned it.”

“Hey!” Peter protested and Natasha just gave a little shrug.

“Please,” May continued. “Come on in and really, I appreciate you looking after Peter. My shifts get so crazy here but with the weather turning bad and then… well, you know what I’m talking about. You were there this morning for the gas explosions.” Her gaze flicked to the small butterfly Band-Aids at Natasha’s hairline.

“I was,” Natasha said as she followed them over to a table. The lounge had a small round dining table with four chairs, a couple of sofas and a television in the corner that was on with the news and weather reports but muted.

The weatherman was going over the patterns including the storm that was closing back in on them. Setting the bag down, she opened it.

“And I’m not usually this discombobulated by meeting someone but—you’re different.”

Natasha kept expression polite as she said, “Well the same could be said about you. Peter’s an exceptional young man.” The comment had Peter ducking his chin. “I’d say that’s largely due to your influence.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” May seemed almost as uncomfortable as Peter as Natasha removed the covered dishes they’d brought and set them out. It was all leftovers of Laura’s pot roast—which Natasha adored—along with fresh mashed potatoes and gravy.

“I do,” Natasha assured her. “Kids learn pretty quick from observing the adults around them about how to behave.” She had. All of her role models had ranged from psychopathic to sociopathic monsters. “He’s smart, kind, compassionate, and has a good head on his shoulders about priorities—like making his aunt her own Thanksgiving dinner when they had to be apart.”

Blushing furiously, Peter got the silverware out and then the sodas, including the orange crème that he claimed was May’s favorite.

“Well, when you put it like that,” May said thoughtfully as they took their seats. “I’m going to have to accept the compliment. But I’m lucky, Peter’s a good kid.”

“And Peter is sitting right here and would love to talk about something else.”

“Shush,” Natasha told him. “It’s good for us to bond in our mutual admiration.”

“Oh, I like her. Why haven’t you brought her to meet me sooner?” Though May reached over to tickle his cheek with a light touch, there was just the barest hint of a warning in her voice.

“She’s really busy,” Peter said. “And you always tell me not to be a pest.”

“I think the word I used was to not be a nuisance.” Still, May smiled at him, then glanced at Natasha as she took another bite.

Over the years of many long ops, Natasha had mastered the looking without looking. She could read a room and observe a mark without being obvious about it. May Parker was deeply curious about her and more than a little wary.

The fact she was cognizant enough of potential threats to not just blindly accept Natasha on her nephew’s endorsement elevated her to another level.

“Maybe after the holidays, we can get together for another meal. You can come to the Tower.” Natasha offered her an olive branch.

“Or perhaps you can come out to Queens, I’m not such a bad cook.”

The faint widening of Peter’s eyes and the slight shake of his head seemed to dispute that, but Natasha could eat just about anything. The fact May accepted the olive branch and extended her own was far more important than culinary excellence.

As they ate, the conversation relaxed to talks about the hospital—it had been very busy, a lot of babies had apparently wanted to be born during the blizzard and the usual slew of emergency cases. May floated in the ED when it was quieter on the maternity ward. Currently, there were only six nurses sharing the shifts for this floor and the one above. They were all a little drained. Tony’s supplied food and catering staff had kept them all going. They hadn’t had a single power outage either, which was unusual enough to remark on.

Peter filled her in on his robotics project he’d been working on and a couple of others he’d been helping his friends—Coop and Lila—though he didn’t mention their ages or names. Natasha was strangely proud of the deliberate omission and at the same time, it was another lie to add at the altar of lies, he’d constructed.

“You were in the news quite a bit—you and Tony both—regarding the Accords and then you just disappeared. Everyone was talking about you, but you weren’t answer questions and no one had seen you. A lot of people were worried you’d actually been injured in the bombing.”

A worried look flashed through Peter’s eyes.

“Politics,” Natasha answered her. “There was a disagreement with how some members of the Committee were acting in bad faith, so we took a step back to let them get their own house in order.”

“Politics are the worst,” May said with a sigh as she leaned back. They’d all cleaned their plates, though Natasha, like May, had slid some of the extra pot roast to Peter when they were each full. “I think it just gets in the way of getting things done.”

“Sometimes,” Natasha admitted. “Sometimes you have to play the game to win the game, and by win I mean get something done.”

May chuckled, then glanced at Peter. The shift in her expression was minute but present. “First, thank you both for dinner and you for bringing Peter all the way over especially in this weather. I’ve missed him.”

The subtle catch in her voice was low, but Natasha took care of cleaning up the plates and packing them back into the bag as May considered them. She had questions. The pleasantries were over.

Elbow on the table, chin propped in her hand, May focused on Peter. The weaker link. Made sense.

“So what’s up, Peter?” The idle question was too relaxed. Everything about her body language suggested poised to pounce and Peter chewed at his lower lip as he shuffled in his seat.

Yeah, he still needed to work on his filter and micro-expressions. “Can’t I just want to bring you dinner and see you? I’m saving all the presents at home for when you can be there and we can open them together.”

Nice, deflection. Unsuccessful, but good attempt.

“Orange crème.” May tapped the can. “My favorite, but also your peace offering when you’ve done something you think I won’t like.”

Yep, she was definitely on to them.

Opening the brownies, Natasha set them center on the table and then turned slightly as she sat to tap her bracelet twice.

“Acknowledged, Natasha. Engaging a privacy screen. The floor around you is quiet, auditory monitoring has you all-clear. No listening devices present.”

Another quick set of taps to thank her.

“You’re welcome.”

After putting a brownie on a napkin, Peter slid it over to May and glanced at Natasha, the question in his eyes. Did he go through with it? She gave him a small smile and a little shrug. It was up to him. She’d back his play, but he had to decide.

They were springing this on May _at_ the hospital, which might not be the best place. Though, as she’d told Peter on the way in, there was no good time for this news.

He was terrified and Natasha mouthed the word, _breathe_. He sucked in a noisy breath then met May’s gaze. “There is something I want to tell you. I probably should have told you a long time ago.”

“All right,” May said, her tone remarkably even. She squared her shoulders, then paused a moment to look at Natasha. “Maybe you could give us some privacy?”

“I’d like her to stay,” Peter said. “Please?”

A 50-caliber wasn’t getting Natasha out of the chair as long as Peter needed her there. May narrowed her eyes, then nodded once before focusing on Peter.

“You’re sweating. What’s wrong?”

Another noisy breath and he straightened. The hunch in his shoulders vanished and he lifted his chin. “Late year before last—I got really sick.”

“I remember.”

“You were really worried about me.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker, I know you’re not ill. So do not pull the I’m dying, oops, I only broke the toaster for my experiment card with me.”

Not laughing required every ounce of Natasha’s training. She’d liked May Parker on paper. Approved of her history, her profile, and her influence on Peter. But at the moment, she found herself quite liking the woman personally.

Reddening, Peter ducked his chin. But he lifted it again. “I’m not dying. I’m Spider-Man.”

“Oh my god, just tell me what you broke. I’m sure if it’s at the Tower, Mr. Stark will let you work it off.”

Peter stared at her and Natasha lifted two fingers. Just wait for it.

“And if it was at home, well, as long as you didn’t set the building on fire, I’m sure we can sort it out so…”

And there it was.

“What did you say?” She suddenly zeroed in on him.

Shoulders squared, he said, “I’m Spider-Man.”

“Red and blue suit, rides around the city on spider webs and was lifting collapsing buildings with the Avengers this morning? Or planning your Halloween costume for next year?”

The whites of her eyes had grown and every muscle in her neck had tensed. May Parker knew the answer. She didn’t want to acknowledge it yet.

“The first one,” Peter said and Natasha wanted to hug him. He was keeping his chin up and maintaining eye contact. That had been her other piece of advice, own the lie. Own the truth. Don’t duck away and don’t act ashamed. He wasn’t. He made a choice. Now he was making another one.

“Spider-Man was trying to hold a collapsing ferry together. He—he fought the Avengers in Germany.” Suddenly, May whipped her gaze to Natasha and Natasha didn’t flinch away from the accusation. “You took a fifteen-year-old boy into a _fight_ with Captain America and a terrorist?”

“May—Bucky’s not a terrorist.”

The woman stilled and took a deep breath, but she didn’t look at Peter, she kept her attention on Natasha. Always focus on the bigger threat in the room. “Peter, you’re going to go out and talk to Magda for a few minutes. Listen to stories about her grandbabies.”

“May…”

“Now.” The whipcrack of an order had Peter standing up, he cast Natasha an apologetic look and she nodded. It was fine.

“Aunt May, I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you,” Peter said instead of marching out of the room to obey the order he clearly wanted to follow. “I thought I was protecting you and then I thought you wouldn’t let me do it. But now I want you to know because you need to know. Lying to you was wrong. But what I do? It’s important and I’m really proud of it.”

“That’s why Tony Stark came to our house—that scholarship and internship you won—that’s why he was there.”

“In fairness,” Natasha said quietly. “Peter did win the internship and the scholarship based on his merit and intelligence. He’s a truly gifted young man. That said, yes, we were in a bind and we needed backup. Tony knew about Peter’s activities from monitoring around the city and he came to ask for his help.”

“He’s _fifteen_.”

“I’m aware.”

“Aunt May, Natasha…”

“Can speak for herself.” May stood, one hand pressed against her hip and the other up to her mouth. “Please go, so I can speak to her.”

“I’ll be right outside.”

When the door closed behind him, the look flashing across May’s face was not that of fury but terror. The fury followed it.

“If you need to scream, the room is secure and sound won’t carry,” Natasha offered.

“Some toy created by Stark, I presume?” Pacing away, Peter’s aunt struggled to get her temper under control. “Of course, he did. He’s brilliant, he can do anything, even… why would you take him into those places? It’s dangerous.”

“It is. Peter’s not technically an Avenger.”

“Well that makes it so much better,” May gave her a look like she was an idiot. “He was out there today…”

“Rescuing people. He helped save my life.” Then because she had the opening, she leaned forward. “He’s young, he’s idealistic, he’s compassionate and he’s _smart_. He has skills and abilities few people possess. I am doing what I can to teach him how to tackle dangerous situations with more forethought and care, but the simple fact of the matter is—what we do is dangerous. He knows this. But he _wants _to help people.”

“He can volunteer if he wants to help people. People shoot at you and plant bombs to kill you.”

“Yes they do.” Natasha wouldn’t sugarcoat this. “There are people who run out of the way of the gun battles. There are people who flee the fire. Then there are the people who run into it because they can. Because they can’t not help.”

May stopped pacing to study her. “People like you.”

“And people like you,” Natasha told her. She remained seated; let May have the dominant position. She needed to have some control and some power. “You dedicate hours of your life—days and weeks—to help others. To save them. You could go home, you could say you have Peter and you need to be there for him, but you have to be here because this is where you’re needed.”

“People don’t try to shoot me here.”

“But shootings have happened in hospitals. You’ve had tweakers who get out of hand. Gang members who come in armed. It does happen.”

“It hasn’t happened to me.” The yet was implied.

“Does that make your sacrifice less?” Natasha challenged her.

Tipping her head back, May stared at the ceiling. Some of the anger drained from her, but by no means all of it. “This is _fucking_ insane. He’s fifteen. He’s—got a future and he’s had so many bad things happen to him. He doesn’t _deserve_ this.”

Natasha could say a lot of things, but this was a conversation May needed to have with Peter. But she let her vent. Suddenly May paced away again.

“His parents died when he was a little boy. It nearly shattered him. Ben—my husband and I—we did everything we could to give him a home. But it wasn’t the same. Then Ben…” She pressed two fingers to her lips. “No, he can’t be Spider-Man. He can’t. The world can’t decide whether it hates you or loves you. I don’t want that life for him. I don’t want him to have to fight for his life. He can’t. He just can’t. You let him do this without my permission. Stark did. I could…”

Turning away, she rubbed her hands against her face.

“How did I not see this?” The horror in her voice as she faced her. “Is that why you’re here? With him?”

“He asked me to come because he wanted to tell you the truth. He wanted the support.”

“So he has to get his support from other people…” The words _he’s fifteen_ had to be playing in a loop in her head. May sank into a chair. “Why?”

“Because you raised a good boy who is going to become a great man someday.”

“He has to grow up to do that.”

_“No, not creepy at all…” Peter said, then shifted. They dropped a second as he let go of the webbing then fired and they were swinging away. They made it three feet—three miserable feet when something latched onto him and he went lower. “No…”_

_“Dammit, Peter.”_

_He twisted, firing another web, then slapping it against her and she rebounded upward as he fell._

_No, as he was yanked and then he vanished right into the black maw of the rising ooze. There was so much of it, bubbling and writhing and…_

“Yes, he does,” Natasha told her. “But the thing about great men, even when they are just boys—_good_ boys—they can’t _wait _for a time to be right. They become great because they are driven to act right now.”

“So I just let him? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I can’t tell you what decision to make. I can tell you what I’m willing to do. What the Avengers are willing to do. We will train him. We will protect him. We will make sure he has the resources he needs to accomplish his goals. We want to keep him focused on his education on developing that brilliant mind he possesses. We want him alive. Very much so.”

“And if I tell him no—if I tell you I don’t want him going to the Avengers anymore. That I forbid you from letting him participate…”

“It won’t stop him. He might try to take a step back. He’ll want desperately to appease you, to make you feel better. He loves you very much. You’re his family.”

“That’s not so bad,” May said as she seemed to chew this over. She was working so hard to contain her temper, to focus on Peter. Not just on her reactions but on his needs.

Natasha’s respect for her climbed another notch.

“But a part of him is going to be focused on everything that goes wrong that he thinks he could have helped.”

May flinched.

“He was there when your husband died. He’s never forgotten it. It haunts him and it inspires him. He doesn’t want others to feel that pain.”

“He was—he couldn’t have saved Ben.”

“It doesn’t change the fact he wants to save others and that in saving them, it’s like he can save his uncle. He can save you or his friends. It’ll eat at him and he’ll see a situation he has to help in and he’ll say it’s just once. Then he’ll do it again. He’ll keep it a secret because he doesn’t want to upset you, but he can’t not help. Then he’s lying again.”

“You sound very sure of this.”

“I know the type,” she told her. “He’s a _good_ young man. You don’t turn that off. You can’t turn your back on the needs of others. He’ll want to make you happy, desperately but he won’t be able to live with himself if someone else suffers when he could have prevented it.”

“Why tell me now?” May stared toward the closed door. “Why after all this time?” Then she didn’t wait for Natasha’s response before she said. “He had to know I wouldn’t be happy, so why did he need—is he all right? Did something happen?”

For Peter, she could do this. “I want to tell you something and I’m trusting that you won’t take it to the press or spread the story around.”

Not answering immediately, May studied her then nodded. “I won’t.”

“Two weeks ago, during the Stark Holiday party, I prevented a kidnapping of a key executive at Stark Industries. Someone who wanted to punish Tony for crimes real or imagined took me instead. I won’t give you the gory details, suffice it to say it wasn’t pleasant. Peter was aware of it…”

“How is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s not,” Natasha told her simply. “I’m telling you why Peter is choosing to tell you now. He was aware of the situation and he helped on the op to rescue me.”

“The spa…” Aggravation flashed in her eyes along with understanding.

“In the aftermath, he’s been asking himself a lot of hard questions. Including whether he should tell you because if something ever happened to him—he didn’t want that to be the day you found out. But he worries that whether he tells you or not; he exposes you to danger if someone wanted to get at him. Those are all definitive reasons… but the real one, he’s scared and he wants your support.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about him,” May said, then licked her lips. “How much time have you been spending with him?”

“Tony asked me to train him, to help curb some of his impulses, to make him more comfortable with tactics and hone his talent into skill. To help him save his life while he protects others. I’m very fond of him and I respect him. He is fifteen, but he’s a remarkable fifteen-year-old.”

“And if I told you to keep him out of the Avengers?”

“I would remind you, he’s not an Avenger. He’s a junior Avenger because he trains with us. But in a little over two years, he’ll be a legal adult.”

“And if I block him now, he can just as easily pick it up again then and keep me in the dark… how do I support this?”

“You don’t have to,” Natasha told her simply. “You just have to support him. I know you know how to do that.”

“I would be a terrible parent to let him do this.”

She couldn’t offer any judgment in that area.

“Are you all right?” the other woman asked abruptly.

“I’m fine,” Natasha told her.

“I’m glad you’re safe… I may not act like it, but I do admire you. Even if…” she hesitated.

“I’m inclined toward questionable things?”

May smiled, it was a weak smile, but a smile. Then she sobered. “He’s done this all alone for so long…”

“He’s not alone now,” Natasha assured her. “We won’t ever make him do this alone.”

Peter had taken the step to her and now it was up to May to meet him.

“I really want to hate you right now,” May said slowly. “Irrational as that is.”

“Go ahead,” Natasha offered. “I can take it.”

She laughed. “I’m sure you can… I need to talk to him.”

As she rose, Natasha said, “Friday, ask Peter to come back inside, please.”

“He’s on his way.”

May gave her a look. Natasha stood as Peter knocked on the door. She opened it for him and he glanced from her to May warily. “I’m going to let you talk to your aunt,” she told him then glanced to May. “We’re celebrating Christmas at the Compound day after tomorrow. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“I might have to work,” May said slowly. “The storms are supposed to worsen.”

“Don’t hesitate to let us know if you need anything. But I get needing to be there to help others.” Dropping a hand on Peter’s shoulder lightly, she gave it a squeeze. “I’ll be on the quinjet. Take your time. Be sure to listen, too, okay?”

He nodded and Natasha left them, she’d done what she could and now they needed to talk but Peter was already disappearing into May’s hug as Natasha closed the door.

Exhaustion swarmed her as she headed for the elevator. Once inside, Friday asked, “Should I continue to monitor them?”

“Keep an eye on Peter, but lock that conversation to my voiceprint. Let’s give them some privacy.”

“Do you think she will make Mr. Parker stay away?”

“I hope not.” She could, but Natasha didn’t think she would.

“I hope not, too. I like Mr. Parker.”

“She just needs time to process. This was surprise, and a shock. She loves him very much.”

Friday was quiet until she was back aboard the quinjet. “Are you well, Natasha?”

“I’m a little tired, Friday. But since we have some time, I need you to open our protocols. We have a little more work to do.”

She pulled up the thermos of coffee she’d brought with her and poured a cup before she stripped out of the jacket and the hat and settled in the pilot’s seat. Outside it had grown so dark...

“Are you sure you want to work on this now?” Friday didn’t seem to agree.

“No time like the present,” Natasha said simply. The next day was Christmas Eve and as hard was it was to believe only a few months had passed since Germany, but everything had changed so much.

Holiday. Montana. Wakanda.

Then hopefully—Mary.

That was the plan. She liked plans.

Plan for the worst and hope for the best.


	35. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let Christmas Eve begin

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

_Mistletoe_

**Natasha**

_It must have been the mistletoe, the lazy fire, the falling snow…_

The music drifted from the speakers as Natasha padded out of her bedroom on Steve’s floor. It had been later by the time she got back to the Compound to pick up the guys. She’d made it with just enough time to read Lila and Coop a bedtime story—with Nate curled up in her lap. Poor baby’s fever had finally broken, but he’d been snuggly. She let them convince her to give them four stories before Clint scooped up the infant from her lap and gave her a not so gentle shove to go home and get her own sleep.

There’d been something in his eyes though, so she waited a beat while he got the kids settled then raised her eyebrows when he stepped out in the hall and closed the door. Laura was in the little kitchen of their guest suite; the scent of Christmas cookies baking perfumed the air.

“You’re in a good mood,” she’d told Clint and he’d grinned.

“Yes, I am. Now go away. I want to have wine with my wife.”

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she whispered, “Remember, use your tongue.”

That got her another light shove and she’d laughed on her way out, pausing long enough to give Laura a kiss on the cheek and swiping some cookies. While she’d managed to keep busy during her ninety minutes waiting on the quinjet, she hadn’t relaxed until Peter walked up the ramp wearing a relieved expression.

“She’s _really_ pissed at me. But… as long as I’m upfront with her from now on _and_ I listen to you in training, she won’t ground me from it. She does, however, reserve the right to smack me in the back of the head regularly for a while.” His rueful expression made her smile.

“Good. Will she join us for Christmas?”

“If the storm doesn’t hit, but if it does, she doesn’t want to leave.” He made a face. “So do you mind flying us back to get her if that becomes a possibility?”

“I don’t mind at all. Strap in,” she’d told him and pointed to the copilot’s seat. “Time for you to learn how to take-off…”

His eyes had widened, but excitement threaded through his emotional weariness. The resilience of kids would never fail to amaze her. The take off was a little shaky, but he followed instructions and when she entered the coordinates for the Compound, he handled the change in altitude and directions to get clear of the city like a pro.

Halfway back, he’d glanced over and said, “I don't know what you said to her, but May is going to want to see you again. To talk to you.”

Natasha nodded. She'd already figured that. 

“And I think she wants to punch Tony.”

Laughing softly, she said, “You’ll discover that everyone who knows Tony experiences that desire at some point during their acquaintance.”

The winds had increased some but not enough to make it too bad. She walked him verbally through the landing. It was a little harder than he expected, but his relief and joy at doing it were a delight.

After leaving the Bartons to their evening, she’d wandered back out to the Common Room. Peter perched on the coffee table talking a mile a minute as he filled Steve, James, and Tony in on his visit with May.

“So I’m in trouble?” Tony said cannily toward the end of the story.

“I took the first hit,” Natasha said as she patted him on the shoulder. “Just suck it up and let her yell at you. Then she’ll be fine.”

James, like Clint, seemed to be buzzed by something and Steve kept biting back smiles every time he looked at her. While James could usually keep a secret, Steve was terrible at it. So, she just chose not to look. The holidays meant surprises and presents and one that she’d been waiting on had been delivered today. Friday had secured them out of sight and had gone over them with all security checks.

Natasha would sneak down in the morning and double-check them before she danced. “Are we ready to go?” She perched on the arm of the sofa and James slid his hand over hers and she locked their fingers together. The hum under her skin was still there, but it wasn’t driving her crazy.

“I think so, Wanda went to read after she got most of Pete’s story.”

“When is Vision due back?” He’d been absent for the last twenty-four hours, a little field trip of self-discovery.

“Tomorrow,” Tony said. “Friday’s keeping an eye on him but he needs the time to kind of explore the human condition as he put it.” A faint smirk touched Tony’s lips and she raised her eyebrows, but he gave her an innocent look that promised the only thing holding up his halo were the two little horns sticking out of his head.

It almost physically pained her to look the other way and let this go and at the same time, she rather looked forward to when they sprang their surprise or surprises.

Patience, however, she possessed.

On the flight back, Natasha had Peter take off again much to the trepidation of the guys. He did it beautifully. She did not make him land at the Tower though. More practice, but he had excellent reflexes.

Peter and Tony were going to get some lab time in and Peter snagged her for another hug before she went downstairs. “We’ll see you guys in the morning,” Tony called.

“Thank you,” Peter said quietly and she hugged him back.

“You’re welcome. Don’t stay up too late. Apparently, there’s a surprise tomorrow.”

“There is?” He’d raised his eyebrows as he took a step back. “How do you know?”

She’d grinned, aware of Tony shaking his head as he chuckled. “Because I asked for it. Be good, both of you and Tony…”

“I’m not blowing anything up tonight.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Natasha dared him, eyebrows raised.

“Because you’re brilliant as well as beautiful.” Tony grinned. “Now go away and let us boys have some fun.”

Snorting, she flicked her fingers in their direction. “Friday if it starts smoking violently, page me.”

“She won’t!” Tony called.

“I will look after them,” Friday assured her as Natasha slid into the elevator.

Inside, she’d leaned against the wall and let out a breath. It had been a long day. But a good one.

“Tired?” Steve focused on her and she smiled at him.

“Yes, but I feel good. Movie?”

He exchanged a look with James who just gave her the most blissful smile. Something had _really_ buoyed his mood. “Whatever you want, Doll. Popcorn and treats? Or real food?”

“I’d kill for pizza,” she admitted. When the elevator reached Steve’s floor, James shooed them out.

“I’ll go grab pizza.”

“You want company?” Steve asked with a frown and James just grinned.

“I got it. Go get comfy and look after our girl.”

Natasha snorted. It was adorable when they did that. “I want one with everything, no anchovies or jalapeños!”

“I know,” James said with an almost indulgent smile and a shake of his head. Then he was gone.

“He’s in a really good mood,” she’d told Steve.

“I noticed. So are you—did it go that well with May? Peter seemed to think it did.”

“She’s in a little shock…” Natasha said as she stripped off her coat. “She needs some time to process that and her anger. But she didn’t forbid him from being Spider-Man and she asked all the right things. She’s worried about _him_.” The way it should be.

“And you’ll keep talking to her.” He knew her pretty well.

“Well, now she knows she’s going to be in this life,” Natasha admitted. “She deserves to have someone she can talk to who can at least partially understand and won’t compromise Peter’s identity. We’ve got Karen over watch at Peter’s place, but we may need to step that up.” Friday and Karen were already working up a security and threat analysis. They'd added extra security measures after The Mandarin planted listening devices and hack Peter's computer. Natasha would review that in and around the holidays. They had plans in place. Plans and contingencies, but it never hurt to stay on top of it and keep them in constant review.

She glanced toward the tree and all of its ornaments and then to the mantle where Mary’s photo sat amongst new ones. There were two more there that hadn’t been present before—one of her, Steve and James from the night of the party and another of her dancing with Tony at the party. They’d looked good that night. All of them.

Following her gaze, Steve murmured, “Too soon?”

“No,” she said. “We were still having fun then. I like remembering that part of it.”

His slow exhale made her smile grow. “When I got them, I wasn’t sure, but…”

“Good or bad, these are memories.” _Their_ memories.

Earnest blue eyes met her gaze easily, no more slipping away like earlier. The raw emotion on his face probably would have had her rabbiting or at least deflecting seriously once upon a time. What he saw, she’d never truly understand, but she loved him for looking at her that way.

“Our memories. Are you okay with them?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Good or bad, if I could find a picture of you at Sam’s after Lehigh, I’d put that up there.”

She made a face. “Why?”

“Because it was the first time I know I saw the real you. Not the mask or the cover—just Tasha.”

Surprise flickered through her. They’d both been so raw, tired, and drowning in disappointment. She’d been choking on it. All the lies she’d told. All the lies she’d told herself. Her mind had been stuck on a loop of how many times had she done Hydra’s bidding.

“We could always ask Sam,” she said, smiling. “He was fan-boying then, he could have snapped a couple of _pictures or it didn’t_ _happen_ on his phone.”

His laughter followed her into her room to change. She washed up, combed her hair and slipped into a tank top and loose pajama bottoms.

The air on their floor was a little chilly, but more because she’d been bundled up most of the day. Christmas music drifted through her open door and she’d followed it out to find Steve setting drinks down on the table in the living room. The lights were dimmed except for the tree and there was a fire crackling on the television screen.

_The magic in the frost air that feeling everywhere…_

“Trying to seduce me, Rogers?” She’d meant it to be teasing, but he’d straightened and frowned, the worry so swift, she regretted the choice of words.

“Not pushing, Angel. Never.”

“I know you’re not. You’d wait until we made it to the next decade or two if I needed it.” That wasn’t even a question in her mind. She was the one who pushed.

“Loved you for a long time, Angel. Sex is great, don’t get me wrong. But just having you around is… it’s worth a whole lot more.”

“Well, I better up my game,” she told him lightly as she circled the sofa. “Sex should be mind-blowing and life-affirming.” At least with them, she’d used as a weapon for so long it hadn’t really had meaning then.

Not like it did now.

His eyes warmed and the barest hint of red flushed his neck. Like her, he’d changed. T-shirt and sweats, comfortable clothes they could lounge around in.

_It must have been the pretty lights that glistening in the silent night…_

“Trust me, Angel. Everything with you is mind-blowing.” The barest hint of a teasing smile quirked his lips and she grinned. He motioned her toward the sofa and picked up the blanket. She took the blanket as he sat but instead of draping it around herself she just slid into his lap. “Hey,” he murmured his fingers spreading wide as he kept his hands away. “You don’t have to…”

“I know,” she said with a sigh as she curled up against him. “But I want to. I held Nate for a half-hour today, barely any twitches. Wanda and Peter hugged me, Mrs. Bernard hugged me, and even the nurse at the hospital shook my hand. Then Clint gave me a little shove to get my ass in gear so he could be alone with Laura.”

She wanted them to work it out so badly.

“He shoved you?” Steve said with a frown.

“Playful shove. Have no fear, I can totally kick Clint’s ass if I need to, which I don’t. The point is, he shoved me and it didn’t even register as a problem. So—good day.”

“Well, I like to hear that,” he told her, then with one hand reached up to tuck hair behind her ear. “So this is good?”

She grinned. “I think so.” Holding up her own hands, she showed him they weren’t trembling. “I don’t know how long it will last. It was a little much with Wanda earlier, but then I was okay with Peter. So maybe it’s all working.” But with care, she twined her arms around his neck and he finally settled his hands on her hips, then tugged her forward until her forehead rested against his.

Tension corded the muscles in his arms, but his sigh let some of that out. “Okay,” he said slowly. “This is nice.”

It was. Closing her eyes, she just rested there as she curled her fingers against his shirt. The light brush of her nails along his nape seemed to send a shiver through him.

_It may be just the stars so bright that shined above you…_

“It is nice. How was your day?”

His soft chuckle teased little puffs of breath against her cheek with hints of peppermint. He’d brushed his teeth despite the pizza arriving soon. “Well, it started off all right, but I’m not a fan of the collapsing building with you and Buck inside it.”

“Sorry about that,” she said, slitting her eyes open to meet his gaze. He began running a hand lightly up and down her back.

“It’s all right, it’s the job. The silence when the comms went quiet was a couple of bad minutes. I trusted you two to get out of it and you did. So crisis averted.”

Gently running her nails against his scalp, she said, “That’s what I’m sorry about. The bad minutes. I had to go.”

“You did,” he agreed. “I’d have done the same thing. It’s what we do. You got that family and that kid out of there.”

“Then Maria…”

He groaned a little. “Yeah, how are you feeling about that?”

“Oddly, not as bad as I could, I suppose, I think she means it, as much as she can, that whatever this is she wants me and Clint to do or to see, we have to see it.”

“You think she’s being compelled for her silence?”

“Not like, controlled, no. It’s—it’s like when you give your word. That’s pretty ironclad. Or when you ask me for a promise.” She didn’t break promises. Not if she could help it and even then, she needed a compelling reason. “Maria took an oath and violating that oath is… it’s not about her loyalty to SHIELD or to someone else, but her loyalty to herself and her word. Her word has to have value, otherwise, why ever offer it?”

_Our first Christmas, more than we’d been dreaming of…_

Steve gripped her hips again, then lifted her so she wasn’t straddling him so much as sitting on his lap and she wiggled until she could lay her head against his shoulder. It put one of his hands over her bare shoulder and he was so warm, it was nice.

“You’re sure that’s all it is?” Steve pressed.

“Nope,” she admitted. “But the Maria I used to know, she’d have cut off her own hand before she broke her word. She never gave it lightly. I think—if I’m reading her right—this is important enough she’s coming pretty close to breaking her word without breaking it.” With a little shrug, Natasha drew a pattern against his chest with her finger. “But it doesn’t matter, Clint and I aren’t going alone and we’re not going in the next few days. The memory machine is important, but we have one to take apart already. That one we can get the blackbox from and just blow up.”

Arms tightening around her in a gentle squeeze, Steve pressed a kiss to her temple and his beard tickled her. “Friday for backup?”

“Yep,” she promised, tilting her head back. “I figure you guys can trail us and Friday can relay. Then if we end up in a Faraday Cage or going all-dark, you’ll know where. But remember, Clint and I are pretty good at getting ourselves out of trouble.”

“If I recall some of those reports right, you two were experts at getting _into_ trouble.”

She sniffed. “Nearly one hundred percent success rate.”

He chuckled. “Nearly.”

“Well, we can’t all be perfect.” Though that was only for the missions she remembered and that thought wiped away her smile.

_It could have been the holiday; the midnight ride upon a sleigh…_

Neither of them brought up Stephen’s visit. Natasha didn’t want to focus on that. Twisting a little she reached over to snag a glass of water and took a drink before offering it to Steve.

“I thought about coffee then I thought about wine and I decided we’d go with water unless you wanted something else,” he told her.

“Water works. I’m starving for pizza though.” As if summoned by the thought, the elevator chimed open and the smell of pizza hit her full force. Her stomach let out a healthy little growl. “Oh, you beautiful man.”

James glanced to where they were sitting and he grinned. “Hey Doll, you’re looking good, too.”

“Hey,” Steve protested without an ounce of heat. She grinned and twisted to kiss him lightly, then nipped his lip and his smile grew.

“You’re a beautiful man, too. But James has pizza.” She popped up and over the sofa before he could catch her. “Sorry.”

“I see how it is,” Steve called after as he stood.

“I got a walk in the cold and the snow carrying hot delicious pizza while you got to cuddle hot, beautiful Natalia, I wouldn’t be complaining if I were you, Stevie,” James drawled as he set the pizzas on the counter to slide off his jacket. Ignoring the chill rolling off him, Natasha wrapped her arms around him for a hug and he hesitated. “This is good?” His voice dipped as he asked.

“So far,” she murmured and she felt more than saw James glance at Steve. Then James wrapped her tight and she sighed. The low hum grew a little louder, but she shook it off. She wanted to just be held, no blanket, no barriers. It was good. “You’re freezing.”

“That happens when you go out in the snow,” he teased.

“Really?” She wrinkled her nose as she leaned back. “Imagine th—” He swooped his head down and kissed her. His lips were cool, almost too chilly, but they warmed as he teased her lips to part and she fisted his shirt as he tangled his tongue with hers. He tasted like coffee and snow and she could swear he’d had a bit of garlic bread somewhere.

Her stomach growled and he chuckled against her mouth. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” she admitted. “You had garlic cheesy bread.”

He bumped his nose to hers. “Guilty. But in my defense, I had to wait for the pizza and I was hungry.”

Grinning, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips then twisted to flip open the pizza boxes.

“Tossed aside for pizza,” James mock sighed, but he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“It happens to the best of us,” Steve teased him as he went to snake a slice of her pizza and she smacked his hand before he could close on the crust. Laughing, he shook his hand as she picked up the whole box and eyed them both.

“You can have my pizza when I’m done with it.” James had brought back five. Two for each of them and hers.

“Don’t worry, Doll,” James soothed. “I’ll protect your pizza.”

She laughed and so did Steve. They retreated to the living room and she settled in the center of the sofa with her pizza on her lap. After she scarfed the first two pieces, her stomach eased up on the growling.

“So what are we watching?” She caught both of them staring at her and glanced from one side to the other. “Yes, watching me eat pizza is delightful, so I’ll put on a movie and you two watch me.”

“I got no problem with that,” James said, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “You’re feeling better.”

“I am,” she said. She really was.

Steve’s grin grew and he settled with his feet up on the coffee table as she switched from the fireplace to something Christmassy. The schmaltzier the better.

Part of the reason she liked rom coms, they always had a happy ending. No matter how ridiculous. They would talk, do some big gesture, and all the hurt feelings and misunderstandings would be swept away.

It was kind of perfect. Friday had a running list of all the rom coms she hadn’t yet watched while at the Tower. JARVIS used to do that, too. So she just went to the first one on the Christmas part of the list.

“Ooh, did I ever make you watch _White Christmas_?” It wasn’t technically a rom com, but she did enjoy it.

“Don’t think we got that far.”

She gave a little laugh. “Perfect.”

The special effects were cheesy, but it had been made in the 50s, the story and the music though not to mention the sentiment? They were perfect. Halfway through the movie, pizza finished, she curled up with her head in James’ lap and her legs stretched across Steve’s. When James began to run his fingers through her hair, she smiled and fought to stay awake. She really liked the end bit.

A lot.

And for the first time in days, she wasn’t freaking out over the closeness so she wanted to savor it.

She woke up when Steve lifted her, blanket and all and grumbled. “Dammit, I missed it.”

He chuckled. “We can watch it again.”

It took a couple of minutes to get situated, but she was curled up on her side and she had Steve’s arm around her and James facing her.

“This is good,” she murmured.

“Yes it is, now go to sleep, Natalia.” James touched the tip of her nose. “Tomorrow is going to be good, too.”

“Promise?”

Steve pressed a kiss just behind her ear. “We promise, now go back to sleep.”

Fine, but they could hold her and she kind of wanted to—a yawn split into the thought and she burrowed against the pillow. Reaching out, she caught James’ hand and tugged it to her chest to hold close and then her eyelids were too heavy for the rest of it.

It had been a good day.

~~~

_The countryside all dressed in white, the crazy snowball fight_…

When she opened her eyes, it was still dark and Steve was still wrapped around her and James was right there, his hand still curled in hers. Lazy warmth blanketed her and she rubbed her nose against the pillow. James’ fingers tightened on hers. She’d woken him up.

“Shh,” she murmured, lifting his hand toward her lips and kissing.

“Hmm, Natalia, it’s early.”

It was, Steve was still in bed.

“I know, go back to sleep.”

“Like being awake when I can touch you.” He stroked his thumb against her palm and she grinned. She liked being awake for that, too.

“Help me slip out?”

He lifted his head, the silhouette telling her he glanced from her to Steve then back. “You’re all right?” Awareness swept the sleep out of his voice.

“Just gotta pee,” she whispered and his whole posture relaxed.

With care, he shifted and lifted Steve’s arm so she could eel out, then off the bed.

Giving his foot a squeeze, she added in a low voice. “Go back to sleep.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

Grinning, she tiptoed back and crouched next to his side of the bed. He rolled over and she pressed her lips to his. “I have to work on presents for a bit.”

She could make up some tale to distract him, but if it weren’t for the fact she wanted to check on the bikes she’d ordered, she would just crawl right back in the bed.

With a huffed sigh, he stroked his right hand through her hair. “This is still good?”

Her gut clenched, but that wasn’t anxiety. The hum was there, right below her skin but she didn’t feel the need to jerk away. “So far, so good.”

He groaned and tugged her closer for a real kiss, lips, teeth, and tongue. It sent electricity through her system, chasing what sleepiness she still possessed away and leaving her humming for an entirely different reason. But James had his fingers against her throat and the spike in her pulse stuttered her breathing and he eased back.

Fuck.

“Shh,” he said, and she realized the word had slipped out even as he eased his hand away. “Better is still better.”

She wasn’t sure she’d agree with that, but she pressed her cheek to where he’d rested his hand on the bed. “I want more.”

“So do I,” he promised. “We’ll get there. Now, go do your presents. You’re not leaving the Tower right?”

Turning her head, she nipped the tip of his thumb and he chuckled.

“Just want to know, Doll.”

“No, I don’t have to leave—though I asked Steve and Tony for something fun to do today.”

“So I heard…” He teased. “You’ll have some fun and tonight…”

She raised her eyebrows.

“All. Ours.”

A shiver chased over her skin and she chuckled. “You want to kill me with the anticipation, don’t you?”

Tracing his thumb against her lower lip, he said, “Very much the opposite. But we’re going to take our time.”

“That feels good.” The stroke of his thumb held her captive. She could picture his smile when he pressed his thumb a little closer and she sucked it against her teeth, the traced her tongue around the tip. His light groan made her smile. “I’ll see you later.”

“Mean, Natalia,” he teased and she grinned wider.

“Later tonight—I’m all yours and you should know better than to tease me.” She gave him another kiss then slipped away. In the bathroom, she took care of her business, washed her hands and face, and gave her teeth a quick brush before padding back out to grab socks and a hoodie. The garage would be cold, but she didn’t plan to be down there long.

The coffee maker hissed and spit. It was just after four in the morning. She’d expected to sleep longer, but she’d take the sleep she got. At least it sounded like James had gone back to sleep but he could control his breathing as easily as she could. Coffee poured, she headed for the elevator. Friday slid the doors open for her.

“Good morning, Natasha. Your vitals are showing improved reactions.”

“I do feel great, thank you for noticing,” she said with a grin. “How are you this morning? And can you take me down the garage please, I need to check on the bikes.”

“I am running well within parameters. The weather is holding, but I am monitoring the power grid and keeping a running tally of emergency calls. The storms are expected to resume later this evening. “

Natasha nodded. The guys had something planned so they needed to be back before it was late anyway. That also meant May might not make it. “What’s the weather looking like tomorrow?”

“Hazardous.”

Okay. She would find a way for Peter to see May on Christmas. They could do that.

“Let’s watch it, because we still need to fly out to the Compound for the kids.”

“Of course, Natasha.”

The elevator opened to the garage annex. It was cooler down here and goosebumps raced over her skin as she zipped up the hoodie carefully and took another drink of her coffee.

The bikes had been placed at the far end of the garage behind one of the SUVs they rarely used. The layer of dust on it said it hadn’t moved from that spot. The bikes themselves were under a tarp. Breath fogging, she peeled back the tarp and grinned.

Black with silver accents. Blue with black accents. Red with black accents.

They were perfect. She did a slow circuit of the red bike then took another swallow of coffee before setting it aside. Swinging her leg over she set the bike up then hit the key ignition. The engine purred to life.

These were highly modified electric bikes. They didn’t have the rumble of a gas-guzzler, but they’d have speed and maneuverability. Considering James’ interest in engineering, she was going to talk to him about modifying the bikes a bit more and then ask Tony if he would give them some miniaturized arc reactors. They wouldn’t have to worry about the charges.

Still, sitting astride it with the engine humming she could feel the power in it. Steve had his bike, his cruiser and he loved riding it. These were a little flashier and a hell of a lot faster. They would be good for cruising or fighting.

The weather wouldn’t let them out to play yet, but toward spring—road trip.

Laughing, she shut it off then ran her hand over the surfaces. Dropping it back to the kickstand, she retrieved her coffee and took another swallow of the rapidly cooling liquid. Putting a hand against the chain around her neck, she tugged the tags out and gripped them. She hoped they liked them. It was probably sappy to get matching bikes, but she wanted to indulge them and James needed a vehicle of his own.

He’d been making more of a mark, finding himself, discovering what he wanted to do. The fact he’d been studying the engineering updates Tony gave him—that delighted her because he seemed to be enjoying it. More, he’d been working with Peter and Coop. Then there was his growing friendship with Clint. Steve had been doing the same thing; she’d never seen him so active with his art. The fact he could and had been spending time drawing so much. It made her curious about the other mediums he enjoyed, so she’d ordered art supplies of all kinds—including edible paint.

Who knew that was a thing?

The photos he kept adding, the little touches. He’d been creating a home around her even after her protests about looking for a place. What was more, she hadn’t minded. She liked having them there and being here in the Tower together. A part of her thought they should move it to the Compound where the rest of the team was, but she didn’t want to go. Visiting and working there was fine, then they could escape to back here.

When had the Tower become home?

Arguably, it may be the longest she’d lived anywhere except the Red Room. That included her absences and returns since the Battle of New York. The thoughts knotted together as she went over each bike. She pulled out her phone and plugged it into the hard drives and began a standard scan. Computers on moving vehicles were great things, but as she’d pointed out to Tony—_nothing_ was hack-proof.

But she could make them very resistant.

“I scanned them,” Friday assured her. “There was no malware or suspicious programs installed.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Natasha assured her. “But there’s something about doing it myself.”

“You want to protect them.”

Yes, she did. “As much as I can. The program I’m adding will run a series of coded commands each time the bike is booted up. If there’s not a certain password added with any software uploads or downloads, the information affected will be quarantined.”

There was a beat of silence. “Would that work with the self-driving car Boss is designing?”

“I think so, even if someone plugs in locally, they can try to force a wipe, installing your own software or hacking what’s there, but if this program is forced by the boot drive…”

“…no changes installed can override it because boot drive calls a series of set processes and they are harder to change the code on.”

“Exactly.”

Another moment of silence, then, “Do I have your permission to access the program on your phone?”

“Yep, make a copy and put it in Tony’s inbox and say XOXO Bad Spider. Oh, and can you add a P.S. that says he can have his crown back, but I reserve the right to borrow it at my discretion?”

“Of course, Natasha. I am currently observing your install. Would you like me to encrypt the password for software updates so that it will also need Boss’s tool language in order to interpret it?”

Natasha paused to consider. “How many extra lines would we need?”

“Four should do it. Primary updates would have to come through one of my secure servers, which will also limit interference. I can help you access it remotely as necessary and all Sergeant Barnes or Captain Rogers would need to do is access it with their phones and I can dial in to authorize updates.”

“Clever—backup if you’re unreachable?” Natasha lifted her gaze to study the camera facing her.

“Drones.”

“Drones?”

“Drones. If for some reason I am unable to make contact with you or the Captain or the Sergeant, I will deploy drones to widen the radius of contact. They will be programmed to respond to a signal from your phones, to then relay to me, and I can authorize.”

“That’s not bad, but it has a lot of potential to go sideways.”

“Only if you need to install an update, otherwise, the computers will discard any tampering attempts.”

True. Natasha turned it over in her head. They could put trackers on the bikes, but she wasn’t fond of that idea. They could take it a step further to add palm readers in order to initiate the bikes—or embedded chipping. She’d rather do a palm reader but that would be difficult in gloves.

Future problem to play with in the back of her mind.

“I like it. Let’s go with the code encryption for now. I reserve the right to revise it later.”

“Agreed, beginning encryption. Also, Captain Rogers is awake and has inquired as to your whereabouts. Sergeant Barnes is in the shower.”

“What time is it?”

“A little after five, Natasha. Captain Rogers is also considering going for a run and wants to know if you want to go with him?”

She laughed. A run in the ice-cold and the snow. At least it wasn’t Siberia. “I was going to dance, but—yeah, I can go for a run. Tell him I’ll be up to change in about ten minutes?”

That should give her enough time to finish the installs.

“I have passed on the message, but did not disclose your location.”

“You’re good to me, Friday.”

“Happy to help.”

Natasha hummed as she finished up. She’d cover the bikes again, then tomorrow morning, she’d give bring the guys down for a _surprise_. By the time she made it to the elevator, she was thoroughly chilled and ready to run and warm up. She did some stretching and bouncing in the elevator and asked Friday to go slow so she could warm up.

When she blasted the elevator with heat, Natasha laughed and she was still laughing when the elevator opened.

The day before had been a good day and today would be, too.

She wouldn’t let it be anything else. The best part of planning an op, once everything was in place, you had to trust your instincts and just go with it. They had their plans, now she just had to go with her instincts.

~~~

_It could have been the steeple bell that wrapped us up in its spell…_

They altered their route, following the sidewalks in the park. While they hadn’t been plowed officially, they’d been packed and thinned down. There were patches of ice and she’d done enough cold weather running to avoid them. Even with her blood pumping, she was freezing by the time they finished their second circuit and slowed at the park entrance.

Doubled over with her hands on her thighs, she fought to catch her breath. Her lungs had been on fire for the last stretch

“We can walk,” Steve said, eyeing her. He had a bit of a flush and chap from the cold breeze, but neither he nor James were panting.

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled. “Been a while since I cold weather trained.” She needed to spend more time doing it.

“And a while since you tried to double your distances at that speed,” James told her. He’d already nudged her to slow down once and that just pushed her to go faster. It had been fun, honestly.

“Wanted to see if I could—still never winning a footrace against either of you.”

Chuckling, Steve turned around and gave her his back. “Hop on.”

Natasha raised her brows and James grinned. “Race?”

“Sure, I’ll even spot you a few seconds,” Steve said drily and then glanced back at her. “C’mon, Angel. It’ll be fun.”

James snorted at the challenge, but Natasha made the decision between one panting breath and the next. She was already courting cramps in her legs and a piggyback ride at speed did sound fun. She closed the distance leapt, locking her arms around his shoulders as she hitched her thighs to his hips. He slid his hands under them to secure her.

“Good?” He checked with her.

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “For luck.”

“Hey,” James protested and she crooked a finger. He came close and she leaned over and kissed his cheek. With a wink, he took off.

Steve laughed, and then tightened his grip. “Hang on.”

Her earlier laughter bubbled up as they both cut loose. When she ran with them, it held them back. But this had the icy air biting at her cheeks and Steve’s hoodie and t-shirt did little to mask the ripple of his muscles as he raced along. Adrenaline flooded her as they pounded through the streets, cutting up the long straightaway toward the Tower. Dawn had finally begun to brighten, though the heavy clouds held ominous promise for the forthcoming storm.

They were a hairsbreadth behind James and then Steve pushed it. She could almost feel the surge as he soared right past him and she kept her chin down to avoid creating wind resistance. A sudden rush of the breeze yanked her hat off her head and she let out a whoop as they reached the base of the Tower, letting go of Steve’s shoulders to raise her hands above her head. James was just two steps behind with her hat in his hand. Steve released her so she could drop and then James tugged the hat over her ears.

She was still laughing when he dipped his head while still holding her hat down and kissed. A little sigh escaped her as he moved his lips over hers and she leaned into the contact that ended all too quickly. With a huff, she stared up at him. “I thought the spoils went to the victor.”

“I definitely consider it a win,” James said with a chuckle as he slung an arm around her shoulders and they faced Steve. He had little ice crystals in his beard. With her gloved hand she reached up to brush them off.

“Shower. Hot showers. Then very hot coffee.”

“And food,” Steve told her. “French toast?”

“Oh yes please,” she said with a swoon as James guided her toward the doors. “He loves me.”

“Yes,” James told her. “He does with powdered sugar on top.”

Security nodded to them as they headed for the elevator that Friday already had open. Inside, Steve held out his hand and when she took it, he snaked her right away from James and gave her a kiss that left her breathless again when the elevator opened.

Okay, the day was definitely looking up.

“What are the chances I can get fried potatoes and bacon to go with the French toast?”

“Already planning on it, Doll.”

“Oh, you love me, too.” She grinned and Steve rolled his eyes.

“As if you didn’t know.”

“True, I’m very spoiled and I kind of like it.”

“Go,” he said giving her a little nudge. “Shower or take a bath if you want, we have about… how long until we’re invaded, Friday?”

“Mr. Parker and Boss are both waking up, but they went to bed late. Boss said he’d show up when the coffee was brewed and Mr. Parker asked for fifteen more minutes.”

Steve chuckled. “Good to know.”

A bath sounded good, but she wanted more than fifteen minutes and she’d rather have company.

Halfway to her bedroom, she paused and pivoted. “Guys?”

They glanced at her.

“Thank you.”

Steve raised his brows.

“Today was just supposed to be the three of us, that’s what we planned and you’re including Tony and Peter.”

“They’re yours, Doll,” James told her. “We even like them.”

She grinned.

“But tonight,” Steve said. “After we’re back and we’ve had fun, we’re kicking them upstairs and it’s ours until tomorrow when we have to head to the Compound.”

A shiver went up her spine. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good,” James said softly. “Now, go shower before you turn into a popsicle in front of us, even your nose is red!”

Snickering, she tugged off her hat and saluted. “Yes, Sergeant, Sir.”

“Don’t sir, me, I work for a living,” James told her sternly. “Him you can sir.”

Steve snorted. “Not even. Go shower, Angel. We have food to prepare. First one out gets the coffee going.”

Humming a note, she sang, “Natasha the red-nosed-Widow, had a very shiny nose…”

A pillow winged at her with speed that she barely managed to dodge before Steve’s caught her in the side. Laughing, she scooped them both up.

“Mine now.”

Their answering laughter buoyed her all the way to her shower.

~~~

_It only took one kiss to know, it must have been the mistletoe…_

She hummed the Christmas song all the way through the shower. The tune had been going round and round in her head since she’d heard it the night before. There were worse things to have on her mind. She didn’t know what their plans were yet, but she dressed in warm pants, a turtleneck and sturdy brown boots. She draped Steve’s dog tags in place and checked her appearance in the mirror.

Her eyes were bright; her hair curly and there was still a flush to her cheeks. The bracelet on her wrist she just didn’t take off but it was hidden under the cuff of the turtleneck. She added a light touch of cosmetics, nothing elaborate but it was kind of nice to dress up for herself.

The scent of coffee and bacon proved too alluring and she was legitimately hungry. Her phone buzzed with messages from Laura about the tools for Clint. She’d found some for Natasha to give him. They just hadn't had time to talk about them.

**Laura: ** _He’s on Daddy duty while I wrap. Then we’ll trade, so I can wrap these for you if you want._

Grinning, Natasha typed in _Name what you want and it’s yours. Even a big happy kiss to make Clint jealous._

**Laura:** _ROFLMAO. You’d do it, too._

Even though Laura couldn’t see her, she nodded. _Yes and I’d make sure you enjoyed it._

**Clint: ** _Go kiss your boyfriends and stop flirting with my wife._

**Natasha:** _Afraid of a little competition?_

**Clint: ** _You’re not so little that I won’t kick your ass._

**Natasha: ** _Bring it. I’d like to see you try._

A moment later, a crying face laughing series of emojis showed up in Laura’s message.

**Laura: ** _I don’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed that you’re fighting over me._

**Natasha: ** _We know who you love best. But I was serious about the tongue…_

The door to the bedroom opened following a quick knock and James slipped in. “I’m afraid I have to confiscate the phone.”

She arched her brows. “Wow, Clint plays dirty.”

“I’m afraid so lyubov moya, unless you have a better offer…”

“Well I was just offering Laura tongue, but since you’re here…”

He laughed and closed the distance to cup her face, when he leaned in and kissed her, she rose up to meet him and snapped the selfie mid-kiss. The snap brought his head up and he glanced at the phone then at her. After pressing another kiss to his lips, she sent the photo to Clint.

**Natasha: ** _Tsk. Tsk. He loves me best._

**Clint:** _<middle finger emoji>_

James pressed his forehead to her shoulder as he laughed and then Clint sent her a picture of him kissing Laura.

Natasha let out a happy cheer and James snickered as Steve stuck his head in.

“Are you two all right?”

Grinning, she showed Steve the photo and he laughed.

“Well good for them.”

She inspected it a moment, then fired off another text.

**Natasha:** _I don’t see any tongue. Do you need lessons?_

“Coffee’s ready, Doll,” James said with a chuckle as the elevator chimed. “Leave Clint alone before he starts recruiting Tony to distract you.”

“Too late, I’m supposed to wrestle Red for her phone or find her something else to do. He suggests…” Tony paused mid-sentence. “Yeah, I’m not doing that. Friday let Clint know that’s a firm no.”

Natasha grinned and when James offered his arm, she held up one finger and texted Laura.

**Natasha:** _Thanks. Also for Christmas, I offer one good cognitive recalibration for Clint anytime you need it._

Reading over her shoulder, James shook his head. “It’s a good thing you two like each other.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

She got more crying, laughing face emojis from Laura, and then hooked her arm through James’ as he led her out to the kitchen. Tony eyed them as he filled his coffee mug.

“Merry Christmas Eve Red and company.”

“Is that a thing?” She’d heard people say it, but was it really a thing?

“Yes,” Steve told her firmly. “And we’re doing something fun today, as requested.”

“Several somethings fun. So eat hearty.” Tony set a mug of coffee in front of her and when James pulled out a chair, she slid into it and wrapped her hands around the mug.

“Now, I’m intrigued. Do I have to guess or…”

“No,” Steve told her firmly. “No interrogations and no guessing. You put us in charge, so you just get to be surprised.”

She grinned. “Am I going to like the surprise?”

“No questions,” James reminded her.

“Well, I can ask questions, that just means you have to not answer them.” Which could be its own source of amusement.

The elevator chimed and Peter wandered out yawning. “Morning.” His hair was in disarray and she didn’t think he’d taken the time to shower or change before he’d rolled out of bed to come for food.

“Morning, Peter.” She waved at him as he made a beeline for the pancakes stacking up. Natasha was pretty sure pancakes had become a staple of her life. Thankfully, the guys gave her options. “Sleep well?”

“Uh huh.” He yawned again and rubbed his hand over his face. “Just went to bed late.”

“How late?”

“No questions, Red,” Tony admonished her.

She opened her mouth and Steve set the French toast in front of her and gave her a kiss. “I promise, you’re going to have fun. Now eat.”

Grinning, she picked up her fork. She was already having fun.


	36. All I want is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something fun, something stupid and ridiculously fun—as requested.

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

_All I Want…_

**Peter**

Peter finished his second stack of pancakes even as Bucky and Steve finished their third. Natasha had cleared her plate and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen her eat that much—six slices of French toast, two helpings of fried potatoes and bacon. Then she’d gone to make apple stuffed croissants while they’d finished eating. She only put in two trays and saved the rest for making later.

“This way we have a treat when we get back. Oh, and I have to make some pies later.”

“Nope,” Tony told her. “You don’t. Christmas dinner tomorrow is one hundred percent catered and covered, I have everyone’s favorites coming. The only thing you have to do is enjoy it.”

Natasha had wrinkled her nose. “Laura typically likes to cook her own meals.”

“I know she does and I told her it was my house so I would be hosting,” Tony told her with a smirk. “So stick a sock in it, Red.”

Her eyebrows climbed and the corners of her mouth twitched. “You’re only saying that because you want all the baked goods to stay at the Tower.”

“I do, in fact, want all baked goods staying here.” He tapped the tip of his nose and pointed at her before he checked his watch. “Pete get changed when you’re done, jacket and a hat. Gloves wouldn't hurt.”

“Where are we going?” Peter asked in between bites.

“You’ll see,” Tony replied.

“Aww, you can tell him, Tony. He’s not me. No spy whammy.”

That earned Natasha a dry look and Steve chuckled. “No, questions, Angel. You’ll see.”

“You are all so mean to me,” Natasha said, not sounding like she found any of them remotely mean. If anything, she seemed more upbeat than she’d been in a while. It was nice.

“I’ve got your back, I’ll be surprised with you,” Peter offered. She grinned at him and he flushed. She’d been so calm and steady on the way to see May and when May had kicked him out of the lounge to talk to Natasha, he’d feared the worst. But after—after May had listened to him and she’d made it clear that she wasn’t happy with the lying and while she was worried about him, she wanted to support him. They both needed to give the other some latitude and understanding.

That and she wanted to punch Tony.

Other than Natasha, Peter had kept the last part to himself. Hopefully, May would have cooled off by the next time she saw him. As soon as he finished the last of the food and downed the milk, he went to put his dishes in the sink but Natasha plucked them from his hands.

“I know how to put my dishes in the sink,” he reminded her. That little note between his aunt and Natasha had left him a little squirmy. He wanted them to like each other, but he hadn't expected that kind of teasing warmth. It was also nice and a little embarrassing.

Natasha winked at him. “I know you do. Go on, go get changed. Then…” She glanced to where Steve, Bucky, and Tony still sat at the table.

“He can meet us right here, then we’ll go down together,” Steve said firmly, a note of exasperation in his voice. “Stop fishing.”

Despite the teasing, his expression remained warm when she turned away. “Never! I can figure things out without asking a single question.”

Leaning closer, Peter murmured, “Then why are you asking them?”

“Because it’s fun,” she answered with Bucky, Tony, and Steve echoing her in unison.

Laughing, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You guys are crazy.”

“Yes,” Tony called as Peter headed for the elevator. “And now you’re one of us. What does that make you?”

“Lucky,” Peter retorted. The round of laughter he earned muffled as the doors closed.

“Friday?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker?”

“Do you know where we are going?”

“I do, but I’m afraid Boss made it explicit that I am not to answer any questions regarding the subject.”

On Natasha’s floor, Peter turned that over in his head. “But isn’t the surprise for Natasha?”

“Yes.” Succinct and to the point.

“So why can’t you answer any questions on it?”

“Because, as Boss put it, Natasha can charm the feathers off an angel with the right question and she doesn’t have to be the one to ask.”

Oh.

Peter laughed. “So, in other words, he thinks I’d ask for her and tell her when I found out?”

“Yes.”

Tony wasn’t wrong. It would be fun to discover the secret and share it, but at the same time. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise. So, to be clear, I’m only asking in the interest of getting dressed. Indoors or out?”

“Yes,” Friday answered and Peter could have sworn Friday sounded amused.

“Not helpful,” he said with a sigh and headed for his room.

“Peter,” Karen chimed in. “You’ll want to wear layers.”

“We’re not supposed to tell him,” Friday stated.

“You’re not supposed to tell him. Mr. Stark is not the boss of me,” Karen’s pure impertinence made Peter grin.

“This is somewhat true, however, it is a gray area as Natasha would say,” Friday conceded. “However, please do not spoil the surprise. Captain Rogers and Boss are very much looking forward to making her day fun and Sergeant Barnes added a couple of items to the list.”

“So there’s a list,” Peter reasoned. Multiple things. Indoors and out. “Is there room for me to add something to the list?”

“That depends,” Karen said cagily. “What did you have in mind?”

“There’s the Dyker Heights Holiday Lights tour in Brooklyn? It’s amazing. Aunt May and I used to do that with Uncle Ben, but we haven’t had time to do it in the last couple of years. Natasha would love it, I think.”

“Stand by, Mr. Parker,” Friday told him.

He pulled out some layers—t-shirt, sweatshirt, and a jacket along with thick jeans, socks and he eyed his shoes. There were snow boots in his closet now. Natasha had been wearing boots earlier, so he grabbed those and then frowned. His suit was hanging toward the center of the closet, freshly pressed and he could have sworn that wasn’t there before. He hadn’t actually seen it since the night of the party—wait, this one was darker. It was a new suit.

“Boss said we might be able to do the lights. Just keep it in your back pocket and if you can’t make the tour, he’ll have the car take you all around to see them.”

That sounded great. “Thank you, Friday and thank you, Karen.”

“Of course,” they said almost in unison.

“You’re with me today, right Karen?”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way.” He checked the fit for his earbud and tucked it into place more firmly. The flesh colored pieces didn’t stand out and his hair usually covered the presence. He snagged a cap from the top of the dresser and headed back down to meet them.

Hot croissants and baked apples greeted him as Natasha pulled the apple-stuffed croissants from the oven. Despite the heavy breakfast, his mouth watered. “Question…” Peter said, raising his hand and before the guys could tell him no questions, he added, “For Natasha.” The urge to stick out his tongue was strong, but when Natasha twisted did, in fact, stick her tongue out at the three sitting around the table, he cracked up.

“Yes, Peter?”

“Can I have a couple of those before we leave? They smell fantastic.”

“You absolutely may have a couple, just be careful and let them cool first.”

“Hey,” Tony protested. “You just told us no.”

“Did I?” With a tilt of her head, she looked positively mystified. “Can’t imagine why.”

Bucky shook his head, chuckling. “Give it up, Tony. We’re being punished because she asked to do something fun.”

“True,” Natasha admitted. “And I’m having a good time.”

Steve leaned against the counter next to her and he raised his eyebrows toward the croissants as she moved them to the racks to cool.

She slid two of them off onto a plate and set it on the center island for Peter, then sighed head tilting from side to side as if in pure mental debate.

“Please?” One word and Natasha rolled her eyes. 

“Fine. You can each have two.”

“Hot damn!” Tony popped up from the chair and headed over to grab his while Bucky eyed Natasha.

“It’s not like you to break so easily.”

“Who says I broke?” There was a beat and Tony put his recently acquired croissant back on the plate as did Steve.

With a smile, she added, “Now, you want the hot cocoa to go in a pair of the big thermoses, yes?”

“Yes please,” Tony said. “And I really want that croissant but you’ve done the spy whammy and now I’m not sure if I can eat it.”

Peter had no such objections. He could eat her baking all day. Maybe there would be cherry pie the next day. That sounded amazing.

Bucky rose and picked one of the croissants up from Tony’s plate, then took a big bite. He chewed it thoughtfully for a moment, then set what was essentially the remaining half of the croissant back on Tony’s plate. “You’re good.”

There was a beat of silence, then all of them cracked up as Tony made a face. Natasha had told them two each. Peter was pretty sure she'd hold that line, which meant Tony just lost half of his. Hoarding his closer, Peter grinned.

By the time they’d polished off the croissants, Natasha had poured the hot cocoa into two large thermoses. After she transferred them into a bag, Bucky took the bag. “Go grab your coat, Doll.”

She returned a moment later in a calf length coat, a scarf around her neck and a knit cap covering her head though her curls peeked out from underneath.

“First step of the trip,” Bucky said, pointing Natasha toward the elevator. “Stand there by the step, Doll.”

Peter frowned a beat, but Natasha smirked. “Under the mistletoe?”

“Yep,” Bucky told her. “Go on, you wanted fun.”

She laughed, but stood under it as she tugged on her gloves.

“You’re up, Pete.” Tony waved him on and Peter groaned.

Ears burning, he crossed over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

Chuckling, she returned the kiss and ruffled his hair. “Don’t forget to put your cap on.”

The elevator doors had opened. Tony followed him, pausing under the mistletoe. “Merry Christmas, Red.”

“Merry Christmas, Tony.” She rose up on her toes and gave him a light kiss on the lips. Grinning, he strolled into the elevator.

“We’ll see you three downstairs.” Tony touched the button and the elevator doors closed. Releasing a breath, Tony raked a hand through his hair.

“You weren’t going to kiss her,” Peter guessed. There’d been a beat of hesitation. He wasn’t sure if anyone else saw it, but Tony had been facing him. The way he'd looked at Natasha had been sweet and a little embarrassing. But he hadn't moved until she did.

“Nope.”

“But she kissed you.”

“Yep.”

Peter grinned. He wasn't entirely sure why, but that seemed like a really good sign.

Tony eyed him as the elevator opened to the garage. “Just remember what we talked about last night.”

“I promise,” Peter told him. “Not a word.” They’d spent hours finishing up Peter’s gift for Natasha and Tony had helped him tweak it so it worked with the bracelets he’d designed for her. Peter got his first real good look at the new modifications and they were wicked cool.

Tony nodded. “Let’s go, they’ll be right behind us.”

A limo waited for them in the garage and Peter blinked. “We’re going to get noticed.”

“We’d get noticed anyway, and you’re just hanging out with us. If photographers show up, Bucky is going to cover you and the two of you just stroll off. Steve and I will handle them.”

“What about Natasha?”

“Red can take care of herself, but we’ll have her back. If we have to split up for any reason, Bucky knows where to meet.”

Peter frowned. “Do we always have to be so wary?”

“We do, kid,” Tony told him as they slid into the limo. “We always do and we want to keep you out of the spotlight, but today is about Red and having fun, so that’s what we focus on. We have a plan, one of us will be with her at all times and one of us will keep you covered. Good deal?”

“Good deal.” Another minute passed and Peter grinned. “They’re taking a bit.”

“Well, when you get to kiss a really pretty girl under some mistletoe, you’ll want to take your time, too.” He had his attention on his phone, tweaking some code. Though curious, Peter settled back in his seat.

“Think there will be mistletoe at the Compound tomorrow?”

Tony nudged his glasses down and studied him. “Huh.” Pushing them back up, he said. “We can probably arrange that.”

“Cool,” he said. Not that he’d get to do more than kiss Wanda on the cheek. But that would be pretty cool.

After another five minutes, Tony said, “Friday tell them to can the canoodling. The fun car is about to go without them.”

“They’re on their way down now, Boss. Natasha said two minutes.”

Tony chuckled.

When the other three finally arrived, Natasha wore a bright grin and settled on the seat between Steve and Bucky opposite him and Tony. Bucky stored the hot cocoa off to the side and Tony pressed a button on the side. “First stop, Manis.”

“Yes, sir.”

Christmas music began to pipe in through the speakers and Peter was torn between watching them and staring out the windows. If someone had told him he’d be spending Christmas with the Avengers, he’d have laughed. Six months earlier, they’d been these larger than life heroes that he couldn’t imagine knowing much less fighting alongside or _hanging_ out with them.

Now…

He glanced around the limo. If May were here it would be perfect, as it was, it was pretty damn close.

When his gaze snagged on Natasha’s, she tilted her head in question. It was a look he’d grown truly familiar with in recent months. Was he okay? He nodded and then began to grin. Her eyes warmed and she grinned.

When they pulled up outside of Macy’s though, he burst out laughing. Going shopping with the Avengers should be interesting.

“First stop,” Steve announced. “Ugly Christmas sweaters.”

“But there are rules,” Tony announced. “We have to _agree_ on the sweater and its fugliness, got it?”

“Majority rules?” Natasha asked.

“Majority rules, Doll.” Bucky winked at her.

“Uh-uh,” Tony wagged a finger at them. “No spy-whammy cheating. We have to agree or you have to pick another.”

Natasha nudged him with her foot. “Pushy. That just means we get to vote on yours, too.”

“Yes it does,” Tony smirked. “And I plan to win.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” Natasha’s smile grew and Steve groaned.

Bucky shook his head. “Yep, now we’re going to be doing this all day.”

They were all still laughing as they climbed out of the limo. All he’d wanted was Christmas with family—and maybe a date with Wanda, but he also still wanted to see Liz. So for the moment, he’d take the day with family.

They’d barely gotten started and as far as Peter was concerned…

Best. Day. Ever.

**Bucky**

  


Shopping with Natalia the first time they’d gone out for presents had been something of an adventure. Now, as he had then, Bucky didn’t let his gaze drift too far from where she moved through the racks of sweaters. Between the three of them, they had all the angles covered, but she attracted attention. If she didn’t, Tony definitely did. More than one of the customers had pointed them out and murmured. Twice, Natalia had to stop and greet young children and she never hesitated when they rushed up to her.

Peter had drifted to the fringes, moving just behind Bucky when more began to crop up. Steve and Peter had picked out sweaters fairly quickly, though Natalia kept finding new ones to tease Steve with. The one of a silk negligee on a rather buxom woman amused Bucky to no end, but Steve just pushed it back on the rack.

When she pulled out a multi-colored one that looked like a faux cardigan but had checkboxes for _naughty, nice, and I tried_, with the last one checked off, Steve took it much to her delight. Bucky gave his thumbs-up, Tony grunted his approval then nodded and Peter laughed.

So Steve’s sweater passed muster. Tony picked out Peter’s, it was a little plainer than Steve’s, but it had a tree made out of beakers and flasks and read _Oh Chemistree! _Like Steve before him, Peter got the sign off. Bucky hadn’t really thought Natalia would enjoy hunting through the sweaters as much as she did. Though, between her and Tony egging each other on and find better, more ridiculous sweaters, they were going to be there all day as he'd predicted.

Bucky shifted his position as she dipped deeper into the sweater section. A couple of the employees had caught on and he’d seen more than one camera phone. “Tony,” Bucky murmured as he passed him.

“I saw them.” Tony said thrusting a sweater at him. “Thoughts?”

It was black and gray, plainer than the others, but it had the words _I’m full of the holiday spirit aka vodka._

“Funny, but not really ugly.”

“Depends, Christmas isn’t supposed to be black and gray.”

He had a point. Bucky didn’t much care what he wore, so he just held it up and glanced over at Natalia.

Her snort carried. “That reads like it should be mine.”

“Well, twinsies would work,” Tony said. “But I’d win then.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you like it, zvezda moya?”

With a shrug, Bucky said, “It’s fine. Gloomy, but fine.”

“Hmm…” She drummed her nails on the rack. Then glanced around. While she looked like she was studying the sweaters, Natalia had still kept her head on a swivel. Her smiles flowed easily as did her laughter, but she hadn’t forgotten where they were or that people watched them. Part of why Bucky maintained a perimeter. More than once, she'd tensed, then glanced at him and he'd nodded. He saw the other people, but they were good. Then some of the stiffness would ease out of her again.

She _trusted_ him. Trusted him and the others to have her back

“Steve?” she called.

He glanced away from where some of the store workers had begun to disperse. Captain America’s frown was excellent for crowd control.

“Thoughts?” Natalia pointed to Bucky’s sweater.

He grimaced. “Well it’s definitely ugly…”

Peter laughed. “Hey Natasha? Come see this one?”

She weaved through the racks toward Peter. On her way to him, she paused and plucked the dark blue sweater out and said, “This one!”

It was bright blue with snowflakes on it and read _Do you want to build a snowman?_ In huge letters while in smaller type below it, it said _Hell no, it’s cold out!_

“Better,” Steve said.

“Appropriate,” Tony agreed. “Work for you Buck?”

He chuckled and stuck the black one back on the rack. “I’ll wear it.”

She handed it over to him and then blew out a breath. “That leaves Tony and me.”

“It’s on, Red. Can you beat this?” He pulled out a wretchedly striped sweater with gloved hand shapes covering where her breasts would be and it said _Oh feel the joy._

She flipped around one with an arrow that said _Kiss under the Mistletoe_ that would be pointing at his groin.

In one voice, he and Steve both said, “No.”

For his part, Peter actually covered his face to hide his laughter—unsuccessfully at that.

Thus began the war of the worst puns and the ugliest sweaters. They kept digging up the next worse and the next worse.

“Excuse me,” an employee called as she approached. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“No problem,” Tony told her smoothly moving to intercept her. “We’re probably being obnoxious.”

“A little,” the woman said, though her wide smile took any sting out of the words. “We’ve all been enjoying it, truly. We’re very happy to have you here, but since you were looking for sweaters, we thought we’d bring these over—they are in another part of the store.”

She held up a pair of red ones with Santas that were smacking their heads and scrolled paper that read _Dear Santa, I don’t care how long I’m on the naughty list. It was funny._

Bucky laughed and so did Steve. They both looked at Natalia and then at Tony. “It fits.” Considering their behavior, it _really_ fit.

“Well we should all get matching ones if we’re going to match,” Natalia argued.

“But we’re not being naughty and you two made this a bet,” Steve pointed out.

She snorted in response. “You _tried_.” Or so his sweater declared.

“I did,” he said with a grin. “So I vote yes.”

“Hmm,” Natalia said, tilting her head and then she glanced from Steve to Bucky and he smiled. Today was about her having fun.

“Go on, it’ll be fun.” Besides, he liked the sweater she found for him.

Her grin grew and she glanced at Tony.

“That means we tie and I’m not big on sharing my stuff.”

“I gave you back your crown,” she retorted, then she moved closer to the salesperson. “Do you have that in another color? Then we can be matching in sentiment and I’ll still look better.”

It was Tony’s turn to snort. “Now you’re cheating.”

Natalia rolled her eyes. “Hello? Spy?”

Even the salesperson laughed at that. Something that had been knotted in his gut since she’d been taken relaxed. Natalia could joke about her former life. Because being a spy was definitely not going to be in her future. Not with her face everywhere. She’d accepted it so gracefully and led the charge to mock it. On top of that, she was more herself than she’d been in days. Those wounds were still fresh, but they seemed to be closing over.

It wasn’t an effort on her part to laugh or tease them and the night before, she’d been holding onto them without the full barrier of a blanket. Small steps, but they were striding forward steps now instead of tiny ones.

And he’d found the perfect place. As tempted as he was to just drag them up there now. He waited. Patience, in this case, would truly be its own reward.

“I’m sorry,” the saleswoman said. “They only come in red.”

“Go for it, Natasha,” Peter suggested. “You’re going to look better anyway.”

Bucky snorted as Tony turned to glare at Peter. The lack of any real rancor just earned him an impudent smile from the teenager. “Not really feeling the love.”

“But it _was_ funny,” Peter pointed out and they all laughed. That settled it. Tony and Natalia got the red sweaters and called it a tie. Bucky was relieved; an hour spent sweater shopping while fun still had him on alert.

Sweaters paid for, they found changing rooms to put them on. Since the women’s changing area was elsewhere, Bucky just tugged her into the changing room with him. She glanced at him and murmured quietly, “I’m all right.”

“I know,” he said. “Just not interested in having you out of sight for too long. Indulge me a little longer, please?” Especially while they were out and exposed.

She grinned. “I can do that.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, and then pressed a kiss to her lips after she’d changed.

The mistletoe had been worth the laughter. Especially when her eyes lit up and she’d kissed him with the same openness she had beside the bed that morning and kissed until her shoulders tensed. After she’d laughed and then it had been Steve’s turn and she’d made it a few seconds longer. Breathless, she’d glanced up and said. “That should stay there.”

After they’d all changed, Tony led them down to where they could get a photo with Santa and as ridiculous as the idea was, Natalia had leaned into Bucky she’d laughed. Particularly when she realized Tony was serious. Steve’s grin just grew and Bucky had to admit, it was worth it for her laugh. Peter wasn’t sure he should get in the shot, but Natalia had wrapped an arm around his shoulders and said, “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

So they’d joined the line and proved the Avengers were a massive distraction, even for Santa-seeking families. Natalia signed more than a few autographs, as did Tony and Steve. She posed for pictures and Tony or Steve intercepted and diverted anytime she tensed up. She did much better with the kids than the adults. He and Peter stayed out of the way and Bucky kept a sharp eye out for more cameras.

Peter nudged him at one point and nodded toward a display of multi-colored Santa hats and then glanced to where Natalia and the others posed for another picture with some kids.

Slipping his wallet out of his pocket, he pulled out a credit card and handed it to Peter. “Go get five of them.”

“Got a color preference?”

“Get red ones for all of us.”

It wasn’t until Peter got back with them that Bucky realized they had stitching on the fur that read _nice_ on four of them, but Natalia’s said _naughty._ Tony hadn’t stopped snickering and she’d nudged his glasses up for him with her middle finger. Even Steve had trouble not laughing, but all Natalia did was put her hands on her hips and pose. So, Bucky snapped a photo of her and Steve nodded.

By the time they made it to their turn for a picture with Santa, they had to delay so that Natalia and Steve or Natalia and Tony or Steve and Tony—or all three of them took pictures with the elves.

Bucky’s phone buzzed and he glanced down at it after doing another visual sweep.

**Clint_: _** _You’re on the news. _

And there was a shot of the television showing _Avengers spreading holiday spirit_ and images of Natalia, Tony and Steve from when they were first talking to shoppers before they got their sweaters.

Time to go.

“Steve,” Bucky said in a low voice that snagged his attention. His best friend slanted a look at him, then nodded.

“Thank you all, but we need to get our picture with Santa—as you can see some of us have been naughty!” That got a round of laughter from the kids and the elves. Even the Santa chuckled.

Tony shifted his glasses. Chances were Friday had warned him. Natalia sent Bucky a questioning look, but he just nodded her toward Santa. A part of him wanted to just avoid the picture and go, but Natalia glowed at the moment and he’d put up with just about anything to keep that look on her face.

So they arranged themselves and Santa grinned broadly when Natalia perched on his leg. Peter took the spot on the floor in front while Steve, Tony, and he arrayed themselves around Santa. A few snaps later and they were done. Tony bought the whole package. The digital records and all. Friday would make sure nothing was left for someone to scoop up.

Natalia’s entire posture shifted. Bucky gripped Peter’s shoulder and pulled him back. “Go wide and away from us, now.”

Peter glanced at him then moved. Natalia didn’t slow, nothing about her pace changed overtly though but Bucky recognized the moment she went from having fun to hunting.

He scanned their surroundings, identifying and discarding a half-dozen possible threats. Zeroing in on the same guy as Natalia as he stepped out from behind a counter and raised his gun. She was closer.

In three smooth moves, she disarmed him, wrenched his hand behind his back in an elbow lock then kicked out his knees so he went down. A sharp smack to the back of his head knocked him out. Silent. Deadly. Efficient.

She held the gun out to him and Bucky stripped it in short order. Their only witnesses were two gaping employees and a manager who shook himself out of his stupor and called security.

“Can you handle it from here?” Tony asked him as if they did this everyday. He had his phone in his hand like they had far more important things to do.

Security showed up swiftly and the manager nodded. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Natalia smiled. “Happy holidays.” Then they were moving. Peter was in Bucky’s periphery and he caught up to them as they exited the store. The limo was waiting for them and they waved and smiled, pausing for only a couple of pictures before they were all inside again.

“Well,” Natalia said as she bumped her knee against Steve’s and then his. “That was awesome. What’s next?”

Adorable, yet deadly. That was his Natalia.

**Tony**

Manis handled the drive beautifully, navigating traffic as they made their way to Rockefeller Center and the ice skating rink. Friday had reports running for them. The Avengers were definitely trending and photos from their Macy’s shopping trip popped up everywhere. They were going to be doing the same thing at the skating rink. Friday and Karen were working together to blot out or blur Peter in the photos.

It was fine for Peter Parker to be his intern, thus know the Avengers, but he wanted to downplay that relationship publicly. The Mandarin had gone after Peter through his work and bugging his place. No more targets on the kid’s back because of Tony.

The gunman at the store had been an unpleasant surprise in a day meant to be _fun_. When they reached the skating rink, it had begun to snow lightly; just flurries but the clouds above had darkened more. They had a few hours before the next wave of storms hit. Just enough time to spend their day letting her have fun.

They’d packed their own skates, including Natasha’s, which Steve grabbed from the Compound before they left. Everyone who hadn't owned them previously had new ones because Tony didn’t want to rent any. Precautions meant he didn’t have to worry about sabotage. Steve laced up his skates and soon, Steve, Natasha and Peter were all out on the ice. Tony took longer to get his skates on and Bucky stuck with him though he tracked his gaze over the area around the rink and likely the people in it.

A message from Friday arrived. The gunman appeared to be mentally disturbed and he’d decided the Avengers were the source of his problems. That they were sending signals into his brain.

Well, Tony knew how that went.

So, the guy had shown up after seeing they were nearby on the news. He thought if he could get one of them then the signals would stop. Friday promised to monitor the situation. If the guy needed inpatient treatment, Tony would cover it. Sometimes city and government budgets turned out people who needed help because they couldn’t afford it.

“Better to not let another slip through the cracks, Baby Girl. Just make sure they know we’ll pay for longer-term treatment.”

“I’m on it, Boss. You’ve already got some attention at the skating rink. You and Natasha are both trending though Captain Rogers is catching up. Someone is actually running a tweet thread about every step they’re taking on the ice.”

People.

Some days.

NYPD also had a presence in the area, so Tony was going to trust them to be on point for now.

“All good?” Bucky asked as he continued to scan the area. Though he had on his jacket and holiday Santa hat on, it wasn’t hard to imagine the threat Bucky posed to anyone getting close to them.

“So far, we’re trending.”

“I am not a fan of social media,” Bucky admitted. “Friday spent two hours explaining all of it to me and Natalia has tried to educate me. It’s funny, in U.S.S.R., they had whole divisions whose only jobs were to monitor the lives of the people around them and to encourage you to report on your neighbor. Now, people just report on themselves.”

“More or less, we’re living more out loud than ever before and privacy is at a premium. People are starting to realize what they’ve exchanged. Some won’t ever care, but they aren’t the ones people are watching.” He’d been in that spotlight since he could toddle.

He glanced over the ice; Natasha was skating backwards and talking to Steve who looked pretty pleased and relaxed. None of the tension he’d been sporting during the skating at Thanksgiving seemed present. Maybe the open air on the ice was easier for him.

“Stevie’s fine,” Bucky told him as if he’d tracked the concern. “It’s like any other trigger. It comes and goes. Today is a good day.”

“You know what to watch for?” Tony had a good idea of the answer.

“Yes, so does Natalia. She has him—see, he’s laughing.”

Natasha never stopped trying to take care of them.

“You going out there or did you just put the skates on for show?” Tony asked him.

“Waiting for you.” That—surprised him. “No one alone today. You hang out here, I will hang out with you. Stevie will swap me out and I’ll skate with Natalia and Peter.”

Peter was doing loops around them weaving back and forth. Clearly, the three of them were talking. Her long coat was open to show off the sweater and Steve had left his jacket open. They all had. They were all still sporting their Santa hats. Even Tony, cause he kind of liked it. 

“C’mon—then…” Tony said. He hadn’t skated with Natasha at Thanksgiving and he’d like the chance today. It was a real pleasure listening to her laugh and seeing her smile. There was an openness to her today that had been missing. A pure enjoyment that dimmed briefly thanks to their gunman, but then resumed full force once they were back in the car.

It didn’t hurt that she managed to make ugly sweaters and Santa hats work for her. The woman would look good in a rucksack.

“Tony?” Bucky hesitated as he focused on him and that made Tony do a quick sweep of the area.

“What’s up?” They'd only taken a couple of steps.

“I need to ask for a favor.”

Another surprise for him. “Okay.”

“Feel free to tell me no.”

“No problem. What’s up?” If Bucky was asking him for something, it had to be a big deal.

The man hesitated as he glanced out at the ice. “I found a place.”

A ghost of the shrapnel Tony had removed seemed to embed itself in his chest.

“A safe house—a place we can go to get away.”

The pressure eased off.

Bucky glanced at him, meeting his gaze. “It’s perfect for Natalia and for Steve.”

For the three of them.

“But there’s room for you and Peter to visit, too.”

The sharpness digging into him dulled.

“And we’re _not_ moving out of the Tower.”

The piece yanked out of him all at once.

Relieved, he nodded. “Okay. That’s—good to know.”

After doing another sweeping glance, Bucky focused on him. “I haven’t told either of them yet, so I’d appreciate keeping this between us.”

Rubbing a gloved hand against the back of his neck, Tony nodded. “How small is the circle?”

“You. Me. Clint. Friday. Isaiah.”

“Pretty big circle and you cheating on me, Baby Girl?”

“Looking after our girl, Boss.”

There was a beat of silence and Bucky’s grin probably matched his own. “Fair enough. All right, what do you need?” A vacation spot? An escape? Kind of like the island or the chalet or the house in Malibu. Tony could cope with that. He had places all over the world. So did Natasha, but those weren't for vacations so much as boltholes to hide in.

“I can afford most of it…but I’m still waiting for some of the backpay.”

Money. Okay. He could handle money. “How much?”

“It’s a loan. I plan to pay it back as soon as the last of the pay clears.”

“Consider it a gift. How much?”

“I have the numbers, Boss,” Friday told him and Bucky’s expression shifted.

“Then cover what he needs, Baby Girl.”

“I’m going to pay you back,” Bucky insisted. Nice of him, but Tony didn't need it. If the place was perfect for Natasha then he was all in. Though he planned to get details from Friday later. Keeping secrets. His Baby Girl was getting very canny.

“What else do you need?”

“Upgrades. For the House…so Natalia can still talk to Friday there.”

So Tony could still look after them. Relief swept through him with genuine pleasure hot on its heels. Clapping Bucky on the shoulder, Tony said, “We can absolutely do that. But for now…let’s skate before Red figures out I almost had a heart attack and we spoil her fun.”

“She’s not leaving you,” Bucky told him. “None of us are. You might be stuck with all of us.”

The admission was his third surprise in as many minutes and at the same time. “I appreciate that—but let’s not get all man huggy. We’re trending enough, I don’t need #WinterIron or #IronWinter making any waves.”

The other man snorted. “Probably wise. You’re not my type.”

“I’m heartbroken,” Tony said, putting a fist to his chest. “Done for.”

“Doubtful, you enjoy the #IronWidow #CapWidow stat war too much.”

For the first time in a long time, Tony gaped. Those were absolutely the _last_ words he’d ever expected to hear come out of Bucky’s mouth. Then a delighted laugh shook free. “I’ll be damned, Barnes. You’ve been hiding some serious humor under all the stoicism.”

“Didn’t want to compete and ruin your day.” The retort dared Tony to contradict him.

“That reminds me,” Tony said with a slow smile. “Thanks for kicking Steve’s ass the other day so he lost that bet. I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.”

Bucky eyed him, the dry smile still present. “Stevie said you took him.”

“I did. He did great.”

“Thanks for not teasing him too much.”

“Not a problem.” It hadn’t been. He really had enjoyed it. When he told Steve there was something unshakeable about his moral compass, he hadn’t been kidding. Watching it skew, even for a bit as he grew more and more intrigued, totally worth it. And at the same time, he was ineffably Steve. “Gave me a couple of ideas for presents while I was there.”

Bucky snorted, then his smile faded. “You’re serious? You got Christmas presents from…”

“Yep,” Tony told him. “I definitely did.”

Still chuckling, Tony headed out onto the ice with Bucky right behind him. A few months ago, this would not have been his first choice. The Christmas music and the snow added to the atmosphere. Peter whooped when they showed up and Natasha skated around him and Bucky in a circle.

“I thought we were going to have to drag you two out here, plotting more _fun_ for our day?” Genuine curiosity reflected in her expression, but those green eyes of hers saw too much and she studied both of them.

“Now, Red, I brought your boyfriend back. No need to be jealous,” Tony told her. “Plenty of me to go around.”

She laughed as he offered an arm then glided up to take it. “Really? Hmm… I think I can take you if it comes down to who gets James.”

“You’re probably right,” Tony said. “So, I’ll just have to build him nice things and persuade him that way.”

Peter made gagging noises that had all of them laughing. Natasha squeezed his arm before she floated away, gliding with such effortlessness it made Tony feel like a klutz and he could handle himself on the ice.

When she skated after a laughing Peter, he shook his head. A couple of kids raced past them and then doubled back to wave.

“How are we looking? Lots of cameras and eyes out here,” Steve said as he and Bucky bracketed him. They’d all picked up their speed a little to keep the distance between them and Natasha narrow.

“Friday’s blurring Peter in most of the images. We’re trending, maybe another fifteen, maybe twenty minutes and we should push on. NYPD diverted a couple more patrols this way to keep an eye on crowds. So far we’re not out trending the #snowpocalypse tweets or the #SantasSleigh.”

“Is that the one where they _track_ Santa’s path?” Steve asked, his expression thoughtful.”

“Yep,” Tony said, grinning when #IronWidow nudged up a spot on the trending lists. It amused him. “It’s cute.”

“It is.”

Bucky just shook his head.

“Head’s up,” Steve said. Someone had skated up to Pete and was gawping at Natasha. Whatever he said to Peter had Peter frowning, but Natasha just smiled, her expression polite. Then the kid changed his angle as the three of them approached.

Friday identified him as Flash Thompson, someone in Peter’s class and Tony snapped his fingers. “I remember that kid. He was there when we picked Pete up from the school.”

He’d been giving Peter hell and shut up as soon as he saw Tony. Slowing and moving to the side, they approached and Tony didn’t miss the way Flash’s jaw dropped when he spotted them.

“Hey Red, Pete—who’s our friend?”

“This is Flash,” Natasha said. “He goes to school with Peter.” The amusement in her voice softened the implied insult that he wasn’t a friend. Still, message received.

“I do, I mean, we do. We’re friends, aren’t we Parker? And I’m a huge fan, Ms. Romanoff. Big.” Flash glanced at Tony. “You too, Mr. Stark. I’m just really happy to meet you both.”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… yeah. Flash this is Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, and then you know, Tony and Natasha.”

Steve offered his hand and Flash looked ready to pass out, as did Bucky. Then Flash looked at Natasha again. “I can’t believe Parker really knows you guys.”

“Well, he is my intern,” Tony said drily. “Be hard for him to do that if he didn’t.”

“It was nice to meet you, Flash,” Steve said, his tone kind but firm. “But we’re going to get back to skating.”

“Yeah, okay. Um… sure.” Flash shot a look to Peter, who gave him a tight, uncomfortable smile.

Yeah. Peter wasn’t a fan.

“C’mon, kid,” Tony patted him on the shoulder and nudged Peter into motion. “You good?”

“Yeah… that was just weird. I didn’t think I’d see people I knew today.”

“It’s fine. I take it he’s not a friend?” Tony slid a look at him. Peter’s posture cried out discomfort.

“He’s—he’s fine. Just… you know, he’s Flash.”

Natasha caught up to them a couple of minutes later. “Did you know that your classmate is a huge fan of Spider-Man?” The idle question popped Tony’s gaze up and he caught her watching Peter.

“Yeah, so he says. He’s—just—”

“A lonely young man who is out here skating by himself because he has nowhere else to be right now.” The observation had Tony craning around for a sighting of the kid. There he was, a few yards back, just skating.

“Really?” Peter frowned.

Natasha nodded. “He bullies you because he envies you, Peter. Don’t let him set the tone.”

“What does that mean?”

“Consider it a test,” she told him as she slid to skating backwards, easily navigating the people ahead of them without looking over her shoulder. It took Tony a beat to realize she was using the reflections in his glasses.

“A test for what?” Peter asked.

“For managing expectations. Flash doesn’t expect anyone to like him, so he makes sure no one does so he isn’t disappointed.”

“How is that my fault?” The quiet complaint echoed of hurt. Flash’s words had done injury and Tony knew just how cutting those could be.

“Never said it was,” Natasha told him patiently. If Tony recognized the signs, then so did Natasha. Nothing in her tone held judgment though. “But understanding where people are coming from is an excellent defense. Defusing them can sometimes make a huge difference in their life and in your own. Just think about it.”

She pivoted into a spin then slid to skating next to them again.

“Besides,” she whispered. “He’s Spider-Man’s number one fan.”

“He really said that?” Peter sounded skeptical.

“Yep,” she said with a grin. “Said he likes me almost as much as he likes him and asked me to give him a message.”

“_Seriously?”_ Peter laughed and then looked over his shoulder. Flash was still back there. “You know what… can I catch up to you guys in a minute?”

“Don’t go too far, James has to be able to see all of us or he’ll be cross.”

Bucky snorted, but Peter just grinned. “I’ll be right back.”

As he dropped away from them, Tony shook his head. Always taking care of them. “You’re really showing the softer side over there, Red.”

“I blame you,” she said, bumping him lightly.

“Everything is always my fault,” he mock sighed.

“Yep,” she agreed. “Thanks for bringing him into my life.”

“You are welcome.” Keeping it light, he grinned. “Though, I have to object to being replaced as your favorite.”

Natasha just laughed and skated ahead to do a spin. She didn’t deny it and that was all right. He was pretty damn fond of the kid himself. Introducing the spiders was probably one of his better achievements.

He tracked her as she skated ahead and slowed for a little girl who noticed her. The lazy pace she set as she talked to her little fan scraped at him. Bucky skated ahead of them, narrowing the gap to be closer to her as Steve fell in next to him.

“She’s having a good time.”

“Yep. Need to go soon though.” The crowd on the ice was thickening and Friday popped the Wi-Fi to slow it down but camera phones were everywhere. “Though, I think we’re not doing too bad at normal.”

“Nope,” Steve said, glancing over his shoulder. “We’re not. Sleigh ride and lunch before we go change?”

“Sounds good to me.” They had matinee tickets to an afternoon performance of The Nutcracker ballet.

“Hey Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for letting me do this today. It’s nice.”

Natasha glanced up as she parted from the little girl to skate with Bucky and she grinned at Tony, then at Steve. Whatever she was looking at made her happy. So yeah, this was nice.

“You know, I think we’re not doing too bad at the friendship thing either,” Steve said idly.

“No, we’re not,” Tony agreed. And he meant it.

Peter appeared next to them, his expression a little more relaxed from earlier.

“All good?” Steve asked him.

“Yep,” Peter said. “Gonna grab lunch with Flash next week. I think Natasha’s right. He does seem lonely, even if he’s a dick.”

Tony grinned. “She usually is, Kid. She usually is.”

**Steve**

They made it out of Rockefeller Center without incident, though Natasha had asked for a photo with the tree in the background. The way her teeth bit at her lower lip when she made the request had wrenched at him. Something had shifted in the last twenty-four to forty-eight hours and he wasn’t the only one who noticed it. She’d been healing, but there had been strained note to her, edging every action, since they got her out of The Mandarin’s clutches. Her physical injuries healed far faster than the mental and emotional ones. But even those seemed to have begun scarring over.

It started the night she broke at the Compound, when the panic attack swarmed her and Tony had to talk her down. Steve could put his finger on the pulse of that moment as one where the shift in her began. Then Strange and whatever it was he’d done with that device. The blanket trick had definitely helped; shifting how they slept with her to give her space while keeping her close had helped. The conversation she had with Tony in the middle of the night had helped. Every single piece had been there, including the collapsed building and her taking Peter to see his aunt.

She’d begun reasserting _her_. His Angel was spreading her wings and lifting her sword. He’d told her once she was more of an archangel, a warrior angel and she was. The fall had been tremendous and she’d taken the damage, but she rose above it. Time and again. Today, she shone.

Even if she’d been the one to nail the gunman—her instincts were still sharp—she’d also relaxed even with all those eyes on them and trusted them to have her back even as she watched theirs.

There were a couple of pictures he really wanted of her and hopefully Friday managed to get them via Tony’s glasses. He’d ask her when they got back to the Tower. Steve had taken one on the ice when she’d been focused on Peter, they’d made a face at each other and it was damn near identical and he’d lucked out.

That picture would get printed and put in their living room. On their way back to the car, she’d hared off to get hot pretzels and then sent him and Tony to get candied nuts while Bucky kept watch over her and Peter.

Once they were back in the limo, she curled her legs up to sit crisscross and dug into her pretzel with gusto. Since they were all starving, Tony had suggested cheeseburgers and it earned him a wrinkled nose and a laugh, but Natasha agreed. The driver had been very circumspect, letting them climb in and out without leaving the driver’s seat, but Tony had probably given him orders to leave them their privacy. Being as _normal_ as they could be.

At the burger place, Peter volunteered to grab the food for them to save them being mobbed for more pictures and autographs. When he returned with the extra burgers, fries and drinks, they made sure Tony and Natasha got their food before he, Peter, and Bucky divided up the rest. They were all starving.

“I like burger sandwiches,” Natasha said idly and Bucky groaned.

“Don’t start, Natalia.”

“What? It’s a sandwich, it’s between two pieces of bread.” That conversation was never going away. Kind of like _language_. One slip and it always came back. Then again, since it involved Natasha, Steve found he didn’t really mind. “Kind of like a hot dog.”

“A hot dog isn’t a sandwich,” Bucky reminded her. “It’s not two separate pieces of bread.”

“But it could be, just because Americans are too lazy to pull the bun part.”

Steve chuckled.

“Natalia…” Bucky nudged her. “Hot dogs are not sandwiches.”

“But they could be. Kind of like Stromboli is a pizza sandwich.”

“Do I want to know?” Peter asked sotto voce to Tony who was staring at the three of them with a bemused expression.

“Probably not, but I’m pretty sure they’re literally talking about sandwiches.”

Natasha grinned. “Let me ask you…”

“If I agree a hot dog could be a sandwich can we go back to Christmas?” Bucky asked and Steve laughed a little harder.

“Hmm.” She made a show of thinking about it as she stole one of Bucky's French fries. Then she tapped him on the nose with it once. “Yes.”

“Excellent, a hot dog could be a sandwich, if you shredded the bun and mashed it together.” Bucky nodded once. “End of subject.”

“But…” Peter said, frowning. “That would make a corndog a sandwich and a corndog is _definitely_ not a sandwich.”

Bucky groaned and leaned his head back and Natasha’s grin grew. “See, Peter understands. Though a corndog _could_ be a deep-fried sandwich like a Monte Cristo.”

“Yeah, no,” Peter said firmly. “Technically no. Bread is made from wheat. Corndogs use cornmeal in their breading.”

“Which is also used for corn_bread_,” Natasha countered. “It’s literally in the name. So bread is wrapped around the hotdog and deep-fried _just_ like a Monte Cristo.”

“I conceded the point,” Bucky reminded her but Steve just grinned. For once, she was winding Bucky up instead of him and it was fantastic.

“I know you did, but I’m talking to Peter now.”

Tony chose that moment to lean his head back and laugh. “Okay, Countess of Sandwich, point of order—just because we call it bread, doesn’t mean it is bread.”

“That’s because English is an irritating language.”

“I didn’t make the rules, Red, I just break them. Money isn’t actual bread and we call it that.” Tony smirked.

“But you _can_ make a sandwich out of money.”

Peter goggled for a second. “How?”

Bucky folded his arms. “Because you use the money to buy the supplies to make the sandwich. Thus you can make a sandwich out of spending money.” He sounded so resigned.

Christmas took a hiatus for sandwiches right up until they reached the park and the sleigh waited for them with the horses set to pull it. Natasha’s mouth actually opened into a little ‘o.’ For all that she’d played along throughout the day, Steve was pretty sure she hadn’t been as surprised as she played it. Though, she’d definitely enjoyed herself.

But the sleigh got her.

He caught Tony’s eye and they both grinned.

Hot cocoa cups in hand, they made their way over to the sleigh. The seating put Natasha between Peter and Tony with him and Bucky sitting with their backs to the driver. Natasha and Bucky had locked eyes for a split-second and Steve understood that wordless pulse of communication. She had eyes on the path ahead and Buck took watch on the path behind.

Tony had packed huge faux fur blankets as well as hand warmers and they were all tucked in with their cups of hot cocoa to sip as the sleigh driver clicked to the horses and they set off to ride through Central Park. Tony must have paid the man a fortune to be ready for them and with one eye on the sky; Steve leaned back to enjoy Natasha’s face as they set off.

The cocoa was still hot and sweet, the company good and when Tony suggested Christmas carols, Natasha’s laughter floated on the air. Still, she kicked them off easily. “_Dashing through the snow, in a multi-horse open sleigh…”_

It was easy to fall into the songs, but when she and Peter would even laugh at the same moments, it took on a whole new entertaining edge. They caught sight of others toward the edges of the park as they kept singing and the driver took them on a full circuit, avoiding the deeper snow to protect the horse’s hooves though they were in snow boots. But it was like they were in their own little world, everyone else hurrying to get their last minute shopping done.

Even Bucky sang, though when they got to _I’ll Be Home for Christmas_. They all kind of fell off and let Natasha sing it alone. Her voice captivated him especially with the poignancy of the lyrics. While she sang, he eased his phone out and snapped a couple of pictures. She caught sight of it and smiled, but didn’t slow the lyrics. The music resonated particularly since it was Christmas Eve and he _was_ home. Right where she was.

All too soon, the ride was over and they were back to where the car waited for them. Everyone had flushed and chapped red cheeks, but Natasha beamed. She pressed a kiss to Peter’s cheek, then to Tony’s before she stood and when Steve lifted her off the sleigh, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Day’s not done, Angel.”

When he set her down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and then adjusted her naughty Santa cap. Bucky caught her hand then she looped her arm around his waist as he hooked his arm over her shoulder. They headed for the car while Peter helped them gather up the blankets.

“She’s better?” he whispered, a real smile in his eyes.

“Working on it,” Steve told him. “Let her initiate the contact, but she’s getting there.”

“Awesome,” he said and Tony nodded.

“Back to the Tower, Pete, you saw the suit in your closet?”

“Yeah?” Peter glanced at them questioningly.

“Clean up and get changed. We’re heading back out real soon.”

They had just enough time to get dressed up. The late matinee started at three.

The interior of the limo was warm and it helped chase off the chill. After they pulled into the garage though, Tony said, “Hold up before you go upstairs.” Outside, he beckoned them forward then opened the driver’s side door.

“Holy shit,” Peter said, eyes widening. “Auto-driven?”

Steve couldn't even admonish him for the language. He was too busy goggling at it himself.

“Yep,” Tony said, his smirk wide. “Works like a charm.”

“Not sure whether to be impressed that you pulled it off or annoyed you were testing it with us,” Bucky told him. His tone was fifty-fifty either way. 

“It’s Christmas,” Natasha reminded him.

“Impressed it is, Doll. Nice work, Tony.”

“Thank you.”

“Tony that’s pretty incredible,” Steve told him. Tony had mentioned the project and he’d known he was working out the kinks especially since Natasha had detailed how she could hack into his self-driven cars, but this—this was something else. “I didn’t even notice the lack of a driver, other than he never got out. I just thought you gave him orders.”

“That’s the whole idea. Man.I.S. Man in seat.” Tony spread his hands, then glanced at Natasha who studied the interior. It looked like a standard car, but still… “What do you think, Red?”

“I think I’m really glad I gave Friday that code this morning.”

“Me, too,” Friday announced. “I got it uploaded and set before you left.”

Tony grinned. “You like?”

“Uh huh—do you have a smaller model where I can sit up front and watch and play with it?”

“Not yet, but soon as I do, first ride’s all yours.” He looked pleased with himself.

He should.

“Good job, Tony,” Steve told him. “We’ll definitely make time to admire you later.” He glanced at his watch and Tony nodded.

“Yep, we’ll convene the requisite ego-stroking later. Everybody upstairs.”

Natasha seemed bemused. “What’s next?”

“Cap will brief you once you get into the appropriate attire.”

That was all Tony said on the subject as they rode the elevator up. They dropped Peter off on Natasha’s floor before Tony left the three of them on Steve’s. She took two steps and then turned as she stood under the mistletoe.

“Quickly, we do actually need to hurry,” Steve told her and he dipped his head to nuzzle a kiss to her lips. She smiled against his mouth.

“I like quickies, too.”

Heat bloomed through him like a hot desert wind and it chased away all the chill. “I will keep that in mind.”

Bucky snagged her close for a kiss, but he didn’t deepen it. She hadn’t stiffened but they weren’t pushing it. Not when they still had all night. Definitely not while she was so loose and open.

In her room, Steve motioned to the dresses waiting and Natasha’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Would you do us the honor of attending the Nutcracker ballet today?” Steve asked his expression sober and her eyes widened a fraction, the second real surprise and he was going to have to thank Tony again later. It was a damn good call.

Delight flooded her expression. “I would love to.”

“Get all primped up, Doll,” Bucky told her. “We’ll put on the suits.”

“Which dress?” Natasha asked glancing from them to the dresses.

“You pick,” Steve told her. “We like all of them.”

“We like _you_ in all of them,” Bucky amended. “I’m going to like getting you out of it later, too.”

For a split-second, Steve flashed to the night of the party and joking about watching her get into all the stuff Tony had sent for her dress and memorizing it so they could take it off later. A later they never got, because she was gone and their nightmare had come alive.

“Hey,” Natasha said and her cool hands were on his face and he blinked down to meet her gaze. “I’m right here.”

The moment had swarmed through him hard and fast it shackled him, but she was. She was right there. The chains weighing down his muscles burst. Bucky had a hand on his shoulder and then Natasha wrapped her arms around Steve and he closed his on her.

Blowing out breath, he said, “Yes you are. Just—let me hold you for a moment?”

“Take as long as you need,” she promised him. He didn’t take that long, because he did actually want to get her to the ballet, but the bad memories ebbed and he could focus back on the day and the moment. Not what had been, but what could be. More importantly, what was.

When he let her go, he pressed another kiss to her forehead then said, “Love you, Angel.”

“I love you, too.”

“Me three,” Bucky added and she threw him a smile. Finally, Steve dragged himself out to let her get changed and Bucky caught his eye, “You good?”

“Yeah, just—for a minute there it was the night of the party.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “No repeats, no do overs. We clear the field. Get rid of those landmines.”

He liked that idea. He really did. They split up to get changed, returning to the living room at almost the same moment to find Natasha standing in front of the tree in the red long-sleeved dress and its white fur off the shoulder’s edging. She had the cloak on and if Steve lived another hundred years, he didn’t think he’d see another sight that perfect.

Everything he’d wanted—all he’d wanted—for Christmas was right there.


	37. ...you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve fun continues as the day winds to a close

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

_...you_

**Natasha**

By the _pas de deux_, Natasha had been leaning forward, her arms crossed on the railing as she watched the dancers. The day had been spectacular, even the gunman hadn’t been enough to spoil her good time. If anything, it added to her fun. From the mistletoe to the sweaters to the ice-skating to the sleigh ride—it had been a damn near perfect day.

The ballet surprised her. Tchaikovsky wrote the Nutcracker music and while she’d never been fond of him as a composer and never would be—fuck you, Ivan—she’d always rather liked the movement in this particular piece. The dreamlike quality, the fantasy elements and the mixture of cultures colliding amidst the notes.

The ballerina performing on the stage had an ethereal quality to her, her performance elevated to art because if you weren’t looking for it—you didn’t see the control and the discipline transforming into ease and grace. She was exquisite. Every lift, passé, plié, relevé, tendu, glissade, sauté, elancé, and tourney captivated.

She found herself anticipating the next steps and holding her breath during the final moments as her partner caught her and then presented her curved and posed body as though she were as light as the air she danced on. The applause rippled through the audience and Natasha straightened to clap along with them, breaking off when the final waltz and apotheosis began. By the end, she was on her feet applauding with the rest of the audience.

Still riding the high, she turned to face her four escorts who were in varying shades of amusement and boredom. Peter had fallen asleep halfway through the first act, made it through the second and had dozed off in the third. He gave her a sheepish grin and Tony chuckled.

“It’s not for everyone,” he said.

“No, but I enjoyed it. Even more, because you guys brought me.” She grinned.

James caught her hand and lifted it for a kiss before he said, “It wasn’t so bad, but I’d have enjoyed it a hundred times more if you’d been the one dancing.”

Natasha laughed. “No, I don’t think I’ll be going on the stage again anytime soon. You’ll just have to settle for watching me in the studio.”

“We can do that,” Steve said patiently.

“I better get an invitation then,” Tony teased as he scratched behind an ear. “I could even build you a little stage and some seating.”

They all laughed. Hand on his arm, Natasha shook her head. “The studio is perfect the way it is.”

“Does that mean I get an invitation?”

“Absolutely, right after you get back into training.”

“After the holidays,” he said.

“Deal,” she said.

They gave the crowd below time to clear out before they took a quieter exit from the theater. One of the perks of Tony’s arrangements, they’d been able to come in a backstage door and then come up the steps to the boxes. Steve held up her cloak and she turned to let him drape it over her. It was all so dramatic. They’d seen a mid-afternoon matinee performance and it was just a little after six.

“How’s the weather doing out there?”

“Friday says we’ve got a couple of hours, but the snow is coming down and we have one more stop on the Have Yourself a Very Merry Redmas tour…” Tony offered his arm.

She slipped an arm through his as James nodded. Steve took point, with James behind them and she hooked her free arm through Peter’s as well to tug him along as they made their way.

“One more stop, hmm?” She considered as they descended the steps. “Still no questions?”

“Nope, question moratorium until tomorrow,” Tony scolded. “Think you can handle that?”

“Maybe—”

He paused abruptly as they reached the last step. “Steve, heads up. Friday says there’s a crowd gathering near the car. Apparently, we didn’t slip in as unnoticed as I’d wanted.”

It was part of why they arrived just as the curtain was about to go up. They’d made it into their box while the theater was dark.

“Press?” Natasha asked.

“Probably.” Tony twisted to glance back at James and Peter. “You two meet us a block or two over? Keep comms on and Friday will track you. We’ll swing round and pick you up.”

Natasha met James’ gaze as he leveled it at her, then Tony and finally Steve.

“Look after Natalia.”

“Take care of Peter,” she said and Peter frowned.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will,” she squeezed his arm. “You’re going to look after James for me. Now go on.”

Blowing out a breath, she caught James’ gaze once more and he nodded. “Look after them, Natalia.”

She grinned. “I got it. See you in eight.”

“Probably twelve or fifteen if there’s a crowd.”

“Want to bet on it?” she teased and he rolled his eyes.

“See you soon.” Then they were gone. She glanced at Steve and Tony. “How do we want to do this?”

“Swiftly,” Tony said. “It’s too damn cold to linger out there and I’d rather not spend our Christmas talking to them.”

“Agreed,” Steve said. “Probably pictures.”

With a shrug, she said, “We’ve dealt with it plenty of times.” She considered her dress for a moment then the pair of them. Tony had the arc reactor on under his suit. Steve’s suit as well, as Tony’s, were also bullet-deflecting. She hadn’t asked, but she doubted her dress was. At least not tonight, not when she had all of them with her.

She had a pair of blades strapped to her thighs and another that nestled quite well in between her breasts. Opening the clutch purse she eyed the bites. They would really stand out on the dress. Irritation feathered through her cheer. But part of the price of giving up her anonymity meant they had to deal with things like this.

“We got this, Angel,” Steve told her and she caught his assessing look. “Right between me and Tony. Arm in arm, then we get in the car and we go. You in first, then Tony, then me.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tony said, offered her his arm again. “Bracelet armed and active, Friday.”

There was no discernible difference but the beauty of Tony’s tech was it didn’t have to be loud or obvious to work. She took his arm and they descended to where Steve waited. The three of them moved along the path to the exit doors. Theater security waited for them.

“NYPD is out there, Mr. Stark, the crowd grew fast, but the press has been there since midway through the show.”

“It’s awfully cold to fish for a story tonight,” Tony told him as he nodded. “Thanks, Mitch.” He said with a nod as the man opened the door to let a wash of icy air in to greet them. The taste of snow rode heavy on the breeze. Tony eased through the door and Steve dropped back as Tony guided her out, then he was next to her again and had a hand against her lower back.

The dazzle of flashbulbs went off and she kept her chin up, her half-smile in place and moved at Tony’s pace. The sidewalk was gritty where they’d cleared the snow and put down salt for the ice.

While she was in heels, she wasn’t worried about falling. One misstep and Steve would catch her.

“Are you on a date?”

“What are your Christmas plans?”

“This way, Mr. Stark? Is it true you’ve purchased and are renovating the collapsed buildings in Brooklyn?”

“Ms. Romanoff? Ms. Romanoff? Who are you dating? Is it Captain Rogers? Or Mr. Stark?”

She did not roll her eyes at that question.

“Is it true you were seen making out with the former Winter Soldier?”

“Captain Rogers, did you introduce Ms. Romanoff to your best friend?”

“Sorry folks,” Tony said with a dismissive wave. “It’s Christmas Eve, go home and be with your families. We intend to. Have a good one.”

The back door opened for them at a half-foot away and one man lunged forward. “Captain America—what does it say about you that you appear to be more interested in a former Russian asset than in an honest American woman?”

“Don’t engage,” Natasha murmured. Their new friend tried to block their way to the door. She could move him, but that was the kind of press they didn’t want.

“I think it says more about the type of person you are, son, to go out of your way to ask those kinds of questions,” Steve said evenly.

“But…”

“Don’t,” Steve said, one word and it held every ounce of command. “Just don’t. Now move. Go home and have a good holiday.”

Tipping her head, Natasha met the man’s eyes as he glanced from Steve to her, to Tony. Tony’s arm was tense under her hand. Between them, she could almost feel the temperature rising. It wouldn't take much to piss both of them off. But it had been a good day. She'd rather keep it a good day for them as much as for herself.

“I hope you enjoyed the show if you got to see it,” Natasha offered and she dropped her voice a little. Those hurling questions silenced. “If not, I’m so sorry. It was wonderful. But it’s cold out here and there’s a storm coming. The subways are probably shutting down soon, so go home. Don’t get stuck out here tonight.”

“If you do,” Tony pitched his voice a little louder. “Head over to the Milton. I’ll book a block of rooms for you. But we’re getting out of the cold now.”

Steve hadn’t looked away from the reporter who stood between them and the open backdoor of the car. In about thirty seconds, she had a feeling Steve would move him.

“Are you admitting that you are seeing her then?” the guy asked, still pushing. “Either of you?”

“Dude,” one of the others called. “Let it go.”

“C’mon, they’re right, it’s colder than Siberia out here… let them get in the car.”

He glanced from one side to other then right back at Natasha. She arched a single brow and he retreated. No backup from his peers. Smiling, she gave a little wave, then ducked into the car. Tony was a half a step behind her and then Steve. Once the door was closed, he glared at the reporters who were still reporting, talking to their cameras or shooting pictures.

“This is going to get worse before it gets better,” he said.

“There is no better,” Tony told him. “There’s the game. We play it, we keep going. Right now, they’re on our side and we want them there. It’s a fine line to dance between them.”

“Not a fan of this,” Steve said, glancing at her. “Not a fan that they are always asking you those questions.”

“Eh,” Natasha said. “It’s a small price to pay to be back on the team.”

He snorted, then looked at her. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Dismiss the fact you get put through a meat grinder,” Tony supplied. “Peter and Bucky made it a couple of blocks with the distraction, going to take us a minute to get to them.”

“It’s not a meat grinder,” Natasha said as she leaned back in the chair. “Giving up the anonymity, that’s a little weird. But sometimes the questions are just funny…”

“I don’t find it that funny,” Steve grumbled as he tugged his tie loose.

“Don’t,” she said, squeezing his hand. “We’re still having fun, right?”

“Are we?” He searched her gaze in the dark of the car with only the blue tracking lights letting her see him. “You wanted to have fun and they…”

“Aren’t important,” she reminded him. With a glance at Tony, she smiled. “You guys are, all of you. Let’s face it, they could be accusing me of dating worse people.”

Steve snorted, then lifted her hand to kiss her palm. “Just don’t want them spoiling your day.”

“They’re not. Are they spoiling yours?”

Bit by bit, his expression relaxed. “No, they’re not. I just don’t like it when they keep targeting you.”

“You did good, Steve. You shut him down with a polite frown. We need to trademark that so we can put it to good use,” Tony said, his teasing tone pulling a faint smile from Steve. “Besides, pretty sure the guy is just jealous. You do have a thing for foreigners.”

At that, Steve rolled his eyes and then laughed. “International relations are my specialty.” Just like that, the tension in the car burst and Natasha leaned her head back. She caught Tony’s eye and mouthed _thank you_. The last thing she’d wanted was Steve’s protectiveness to get ramped up. He really hated bullies and that reporter had been trying to bully them—which while _laughable_ was not going to do much for Steve’s mood.

Tony winked and the limo swung over and paused at the side of the street. The door opened and Peter clambered in followed by James. The cold washed in with them and Natasha leaned into Steve. He wrapped an arm around her as James slid into the seat next to her.

“We come bearing gifts,” James told her, a smile lighting him up as he held out a hot dog. “Your sandwich, Doll. I split the bun just for you.”

Peter snickered even as Steve and Tony both started laughing. With a smile, Natasha accepted her _sandwich_ and grinned. Delighted, she pressed a kiss to his very cold cheek. “Spasibo, zvezda moya.”

“Pozhaluysta, kotyonok.”

Then he handed her another hot dog and nodded toward Tony. She passed it over and Tony chuckled as she slipped it into his hand. “Red, the Countess of Sandwiches. You know, Friday, there’s your nickname.”

“I can give Countess a try, Boss,” Friday’s voice flooded the interior of the vehicle. “But not sure if it will work any better than Duchess.”

Natasha grinned.

“What took you guys so long?” Peter asked.

“Just questions,” Natasha told him before she took a bite of her hot dog. Not only had James split the bun, he’d mashed it together so the hotdog didn’t roll out. It was still mostly hot and fresh if mangled. It was the _perfect_ hot dog sandwich. Their last stop was a lights tour of Dyker Heights in Brooklyn. The ManIS handled like a charm, though Natasha was curious about sitting in the front, she trusted Friday to keep an eye on the systems. The holiday music filling the car added to the fun as they took a long route through the homes and how over the top they’d made their decorations.

It was magical, even more, Peter’s face lit up as they took their time. It was too cold to step out and they didn’t want to bother the homeowners if they drew a crowd. The winds outside increased and Tony cut the trip short after four long, magical blocks.

Head tucked against Steve’s shoulder, she threaded her fingers with James’ and smiled. “Thank you guys,” she murmured. “Thanks for making it fun.”

Peter and Tony wore near matching smiles. James squeezed her hand and Steve, caught her free hand in his.

“Our pleasure,” Tony said. “Now we gotta get this little one in bed so Santa can come visit.” Tony squeezed Peter’s shoulders and he laughed.

The snow was coming down fiercely by the time they made it to the garage and pulled inside. Anticipation curled in her stomach. As much fun as they’d all had, she was looking forward to getting back to their floor and into warm fuzzy clothes or out of them.

She wasn’t picky.

Oh, she hoped she wasn’t picky.

As they headed toward the elevator, Peter said, “I know we’re about to split up for the night,” Peter said. “But can I borrow Natasha for just a few minutes?”

Steve eyed him and James mock sighed. “I don’t know, Pal, define a few minutes.”

Peter grinned. “Ten? Maybe fifteen?”

As tempted as she was to remind him that she made her own decisions, she bit back the remark. She’d promised them six hours of being in charge, and once she reached their floor she was pretty sure the six hours began then—so why not a little latitude?

“We can give you twenty,” James said almost magnanimously. When Natasha snorted, he winked at her.

“Thank you,” Peter said and she chuckled as they drifted into the elevator. “Friday, let’s drop Steve and Bucky off first?” Despite the calm, he fidgeted a little on the way up.

Steve gave her fingers a squeeze as he stepped out then James brushed a kiss to her ear. “Twenty minutes, Doll. But if he needs more it’s fine.”

Tony hadn’t said anything until the doors closed. “Let’s get the Spiders to Red’s floor.”

On her floor, Peter said, “Tony could you stay for a sec, too?”

“Sure,” he said strolling out after them, hands in his pockets.

“Great, I’ll be right back,” Peter said as he stripped off his coat on the way back to his room.

With raised eyebrows, Tony glanced to her.

“I have no idea,” she murmured, as she loosened the cloak and let it drop off to gather over her arm. “Doesn’t feel like anything bad.” Peter was nervous, but not upset.

“Yeah, not getting that vibe either.” Then, still studying her, he said, “You’re doing better.”

“I am,” she said. “Making some plans does that. Gives me goals, things to focus on. But—I’m really glad to just be here now.”

“Me, too,” he said on a quiet exhale. “Really damn glad.” They shared a smile then Peter was coming back, his hands behind his back.

Presents.

Not subtle.

Biting back a smile, she focused on him as Tony turned slightly to face Peter.

“I know we’re doing presents in the morning,” he said. “That’s really cool. But—that’s with everyone and these are for just the two of you.” Licking his lips, Peter took a deep breath and then said, “My life has gone through a lot of changes in the last couple of years. Not all of them good. In fact, some of them have been pretty awful.”

Sympathy welled up through Natasha.

“Sometimes, sometimes I thought it was never going to be good again or that I would never get it right. I don’t always get it right now—sometimes I get it epically wrong.” His gaze snagged on hers. “Like not listening to orders and going into burning buildings with alien entities.” The apology shining in his dark brown eyes tugged at her. When he looked at Tony, he added, “Or pursuing the Vulture even when you kept telling me not to.”

He ducked his head. “I don’t always listen, but I am trying to learn and I’m going to keep learning everything you guys teach me. You—found me, Tony. You brought me into this world and you introduced me to Natasha and Natasha—you’re the best teacher I could have ever hoped for. But you’re an even better friend. And like I said yesterday, you remind me of my mom and sometimes—Tony, you make me think of a cross between my dad and Uncle Ben.”

Tony cleared his throat and his posture shifted. The discomforting wealth of emotion pressed in, but Natasha held Peter’s gaze when he focused on her.

“Then Friday told me about the changes you guys are making to the room back there and adding a lab and more stuff so I’m comfortable here. Giving me a second home.” He looked back and forth between them. “Anyway—what I’m trying to say—is thank you and I love you both.”

Then he held out two bags toward them.

Letting the cloak down, she rose and took the bags, then wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the presents for the moment. Tony surprised her when he joined the impromptu hug, wrapping her into the embrace with Peter too and Peter shook a little.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Kid,” Tony told him. “And I’m pretty sure I’m speaking for Red here, but don’t quote me, when I say we love you, too.”

Natasha laughed. “Tony can totally talk for me there.”

Peter’s grip on them tightened. “I don’t know where I’d be without you guys.”

“You’d be fine,” Natasha assured him. Leaning back a little, as Tony loosened his grip but didn’t move away, she met Peter’s gaze. “Trust me. You’re a good kid, a smart one, and one of the best people I’ve ever met. We’re the lucky ones. You make me want to be better.”

In some ways, he was a lot like Steve.

“Ditto,” Tony told him. “Though admittedly, we really do make you shine.”

They all laughed, then Tony ruffled his hair before Peter retreated a step. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, Tony pressed a kiss to her cheek before resting his temple against hers.

“They grow up so fast,” he sounded almost sniffly, but the teasing note was perfect. Peter’s eyes shone and his nervous smile became a real one.

Chuckling, she said, “Not so fast, he’s still moya malen'kiy pauk.” Glancing at the bags, she handed Tony the one that had _Papa Iron_ on the gift tag. And as fast as he tried to hide it, there were actual tears popping in his eyes. He released her as he turned away and made a show of adjusting his glasses.

Hers read _Mama Spider_ and she chuckled. “You’re determined to make me cry, aren’t you?” Getting Peter to focus on her, she bought Tony some time.

“No,” Peter said. “I just—you guys do so much for me, I wanted to do something for you and it’s not even a huge thing, but I had them made.”

Made.

She glanced at Tony, gauging whether he was ready to do this. He nodded, then cleared his throat. “At the same time?”

“Agreed.” They pulled open their bags and pulled out the mugs wrapped in tissue paper. Peter worried his lower lip, arms folded as he watched them.

Tony laughed as he got his paper off first. _My Favorite Spider-Friend._

She grinned as she peeled off the paper. _My Favorite Spider._

“For your coffee collections? And maybe hot cocoa?”

“I love it,” Natasha told him. “Thank you, Peter.”

“What she said, Kid. Definitely going in my favorites category.”

He blew out a relieved breath, and then wiped a hand over his face. “Okay…I’m going to change and then, Tony did you want to watch a movie or something?”

“Or put in some lab time and watch a movie,” Tony suggested. “Definitely, Pete.”

Natasha hugged Peter again and he sagged against her. “Thank you, Peter.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for being you.” She smiled and then Tony tapped his shoulder.

“One more, Kid, in the spirit of the season.” The hug Peter gave Tony was fierce and Natasha glanced away so Tony didn’t feel so exposed.

“This is nice,” Peter admitted and Tony laughed as he gave him a pat on the back.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she told him as he disappeared down the hallway. Turning, she caught Tony watching her. Not giving herself time to think about it, she closed the distance and wrapped her arms around him. It was the first real hug she’d given him since he found her in The Mandarin’s castle of horrors.

He hesitated and then he locked his arms around her tightly.

“Thank you for today, Tony,” she whispered. “Thank you for everything the last few months.”

“Seriously, my pleasure and thank you, Red,” he answered. “Thank you for getting better.”

Eyes closed, she leaned into the hug. “Of course I was going to get better, moy umnyy. I may be a work in progress, but I’m a stubborn one. And I’m really lucky.”

“I’m your what now?” He loosened his hold and then released her as he stepped back.

Touching a hand to his face gently, she swiped away the single tear he’d missed. “My clever one.”

He made a face and then nodded slowly. “I can live with that.” When she dropped her hand away, he nodded toward the elevator. “Go on, your boyfriends are waiting for you. I’ll hang out here and then look after Pete tonight. You can have custody back in the morning.”

She chuckled. “Not too early.”

“God no,” Tony said. “Tomorrow I get to sleep in until at least nine.”

She laughed. “You know, kids are notorious for bouncing on their parents’ beds when they want to open presents at the crack of dawn on Christmas. Or at least Lila and Coop do.”

Mary had been too young to recognize the holiday like that. A pang went through her and Tony’s expression gentled.

“Fine, I’ll let Pete bounce on my bed to wake me up. But only for you,” he said, and the knowing in his eyes made her smile a little wider.

“Goodnight, Tony.”

“Goodnight, Red.”

She gathered up her wrap and her mug, then grinned at it. In the elevator, she leaned back against the wall and tilted her head back. “Look after them for me, Friday,” she said as the elevator took her back to Steve’s floor.

“Always, Countess,” Friday said, testing it.

“You know—you could just call me, Nat.” She hadn’t wanted to before, but Natasha added, “It’s what my friends call me.”

“Nat.” Friday sounded it out. “I will add it to my algorithms for testing. Have a good night, Nat. Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes have put the floor in sleep and privacy mode.”

“Goodnight,” she murmured, even as the little curl of anticipation grew. The emotion of Peter’s gift added to the weight of the day. But she wasn’t bowing under the pressure even if her heart seemed to be squeezing. It had been an almost perfect day.

When the doors slid open to the darkened floor lit only by the Christmas tree, she smiled slowly. Tonight was already off to a promising start.

James stood under the mistletoe; he’d already shed his suit and wore black pajama bottoms and no shirt.

“Okay, now that’s a sight to come home to,” she murmured. He grinned slowly.

“You up for this tonight?” he asked, his expression sobering as his gaze searched hers. “We can just settle in and watch another movie or sit and talk.”

Setting the cloak down on the table next to the gift bag with the mug, she said. “I’m all right—and I’ve missed you both.” That admission cost her nothing. “I’ve been fine most of the day, I don’t know if it will last but…”

“You want to try?” He made no move to approach her as she walked toward him, but he didn’t try to stop her either.

“I do—but I’m…” How did she express this best?

“Doll, I need the words tonight. Tell me what you need.” The steadiness in his eyes lifted her. Some of the apprehension coiling through the anticipation bled away leaving only the thrum of excitement.

“I need you to be in charge. I need you and Steve to help me do this. I want to do this…Steve asked for a night where I do everything you two want me to do. So you call the shots. If tonight’s the night, then I’m in.”

Whatever he was looking for in her eyes, he must have found because he nodded slowly. When she stood directly in front of him, he tilted his head. “At any point that you want to stop, you just say the word. No special terms or anything, just say stop.”

She opened her mouth and he narrowed his eyes.

“If you are doing what we want you to do, then consider that an order.”

A shiver raced up her spine. “Da, zvezda moya.”

He chuckled. “Chto ya sobirayus' delat' s toboy, kotyonok?” What was he going to do with her?

“Anything you want to,” she whispered. The clenching of her abdomen relaxed. This was the easiest decision in the world. She trusted both of them. “I’m yours.”

He groaned then cupped her face and kissed her. It was a slow, gentle kiss. Almost teasing as his lips brushed over hers. The gentle massage teased her and when he slid his hand along cheek to her jaw, she shivered. The race of goosebumps over her skin had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the coolness of his left hand. Carefully, he touched his thumb to the corner of her mouth. The light pressure had her parting her lips and then he swept his tongue against hers.

No hesitation in the gentle motion and she swayed with the pressure, but he made no move to pull her closer as he grazed the fingers of his right hand through her hair. Electricity sizzled through her, the little sparks scraping over her nerve endings. Breath caught in her throat, she sucked on his tongue and his groan sent a wave of possession through her. For all the kisses they’d had over the last day, this one felt like coming home.

She’d missed him. Missed them both. An ache pulled open when he lifted his head, but kept his hand against her jaw. His pupils were blown a little wide, but his gaze remained intent on her. She licked her lips. _Please let him see whatever he needs to keep going. _

Her nipples had tightened to rock hard peaks and the curls of anticipation twisted into a coil of tension. The urge to squeeze her thighs together to try and relieve some pressure sent a wave of delight through her. This was how it should feel when they touched her. The wanting, not the anxiety, not the…

A flash of The Mandarin slid in and she shoved it back out.

“Open your eyes, Natalia.”

She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them.

“You don’t think about him. The only thing you think about is me and Steve. That’s it. Tonight, you focus on us and let us focus on you.”

That was an order she’d happily follow and some of the tension knotting along her spine after—nope, no more thoughts about him. “I can do that.”

“You _will_ do that,” he told her, his tone firming and deepening. The command stroked over her and it was ridiculously sexy.

“Do I need to call you, sir?”

He snorted. “No. Zvezda moya or James is sufficient.”

“Da, zvezda moya.”

Her impudence must have shown through because he chuckled. “You want to be a brat, don’t you?”

“I can’t help it,” she admitted. “Sometimes I like to see what you’ll do.”

Leaning close, he nipped at her earlobe. “Tonight you may very well find out. But it stops if you say stop. Tell me you understand that and you will tell us to stop if it’s too much.”

“Yes,” she said on a breath. “May I make one request?”

“You may,” he whispered, nuzzling the spot just below her ear and the soft scrape of his teeth interspersed with the brush of his lips and the teasing puffs of his breath left her shivering. The pressure had her tilting her head to the side, exposing her throat. There was freedom in letting him that close. The gentle squeeze of his hand against her jaw a reminder of just how much strength he possessed.

Never against her. Not again. She was safe here.

“Natalia,” he murmured. “You’re drifting.”

“Hard to think when you do that…”

He traced little circles with his tongue now and it lit her up and left her aching for him to touch her everywhere exactly like that.

“That’s the point,” he chuckled. “But I have faith in you. What did you want to ask?”

Gathering her scattering thoughts in a fist, she focused on him and lifted a hand to press against his chest. His heart thudded evenly. He captured her hand though and pulled it away.

“You don’t get to touch unless we tell you.”

“Mean,” she complained and he just laughed, then bit at her pulse with another scrape of his teeth before he sucked the skin hard. That was going to leave a hickey and she rose up on her toes as her back arched. It hurt enough to ground her and at the same time pleasure radiated out from the contact.

Fuck.

“Ask,” James told her with a smirk as he lifted his head. “Now.”

Exhaling a shuddering breath, she said, “If I don’t tell you to stop—push me?”

He considered her for a long moment. “Stevie and I will make that call at the time.” It wasn’t a question. “Do you understand?”

She nodded. “I understand, James.”

The sudden smile he wore brightened the darkness. “I love you, Natalia.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I love you, too.”

“Strip.”

The softness melting inside of her wrenched tight at the command. That really shouldn’t be so damn thrilling while, at the same time, she sank easily into the rightness of the order. She gave him the power; he didn’t demand it or try to take it away. It was hers to give. Taking a step back, she stepped out of her shoes.

Dipping her hand to the sheath tucked between her breasts, she removed the blade and held it out to him. He chuckled softly as he took it.

With care, he picked up her shoes and set them aside as she unzipped the dress and peeled the sleeves off. It left her in a red strapless bra, lace panties, and the blades strapped to her thighs.

“Fuck,” he said at the sight. “That’s all you’ve had on under that all evening?”

The coy smile she couldn’t help. “Yes, zvezda moya.”

The low laugh he released echoed behind her, but she didn’t turn. Steve had to have been there somewhere and she didn’t know if he’d been getting something ready or just waiting for James to confirm they were doing this, but her heart lifted at the sound of his voice.

“Probably a good thing we didn’t know before now.”

“Probably,” James agreed then swept his gaze over her. “You haven’t finished stripping.”

Biting her lip, she reached behind her and unsnapped the bra. It fell away, but he didn’t look away from her eyes until she hooked her fingers into the sides of her panties and slid them off, careful not to hook them on the handles of the blades. Done, she unstrapped the sheath on her right thigh and held it out to him. After he took it, she bent to remove the one from her left thigh; very well aware of Steve right behind her and the view she was giving him. When she’d finished and handed James the blade, she straightened and looked at him. Did he want the dog tags and bracelet off?

The only things that she had to think about were Steve and James. Her orders were explicit and she savored the naked look of pleasure on his face as he looked her up and down. “Turn around,” he told her and she pivoted to find Steve watching her with a faintly bemused smile.

She grinned at him. “Hi.”

“Hey Angel, how are you feeling?”

“At the moment?”

“Yes,” he said, chuckling.

“Chilly and very admired.”

“Friday, nudge the heat up in here a couple of degrees and resume privacy mode.”

Another shudder worked its way up her spine as the contrasting temperatures of James’ hands settled on her hips. Then the warmth of his chest against her back made her sigh.

“She likes that,” Steve said, glancing past her.

“I can feel that.”

So could she. His erection was very snug against her ass.

Like James, Steve was wearing only pajama bottoms. The broad expanse of his chest was bare and there for her to admire. His hair was damp, but then so had James’. They’d both grabbed showers in her absence and she almost sighed that she’d missed that part.

Still, they had hours to go and she was standing there waiting for them to tell her what to do and at the same time, there was a lassitude to the pressure of James at her back. When she wandered her gaze back up to meet Steve’s, he grinned slowly.

“See something you want?”

“I want what you want me to want tonight,” she reminded him.

Laughing softly, he shook his head. “I want you to answer the question.”

“Yes,” she admitted easily. “You’re beautiful.”

James pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“You both are.”

“I think we’re reserving that word for you,” Steve told her. “All good still?”

“Hmm-hmm.” She wasn’t going to pretend to misunderstand the question. “This is nice.”

The relieved breath he released made her sigh. They were so worried about her. She wanted to reach out and tell him it would be okay, tonight was perfect but James told her she couldn’t touch until they said she could.

“You’re so good for us, Kotyonok,” James murmured before he stepped away and the loss of the heat at her back left her aching.

Biting his lip, Steve studied her then a mask slipped over her eyes and she caught her breath as they cut off what she got to see. She almost pouted. “Mean.”

James laughed, the low sound right next to her ear as he adjusted the mask. “I want you to focus only on what you feel and hear. No fear. No worries. We have you.” No reading them or trying to anticipate. She got it.

“Trust us?” Steve asked and he’d moved. He was right in front of her.

“Yes,” she promised. “I just like looking at you, too.”

Another chuckle, this time Steve’s just before his mouth claimed hers and she sighed into the kiss. At this distance her nipples just brushed against his chest, the contact infinitesimally light. When she would have swayed forward, James settled his hands on her hips keeping her in place. Steve’s hands didn’t touch her anywhere, only his lips and the barest brush of his chest. It was agonizing delight. Steve swept his tongue against hers, no slow coaxing like James. This was far more demanding. Possessiveness swept over her as he deepened the kiss, sucking her tongue against his teeth. Interspersing deeper thrusts of his tongue with retreat and nips at her lips, soft kisses, then harder ones until her heart was pounding and her breath escaped in little gasps. Her nipples were so tight and she rubbed her thighs together, need ratcheting up.

“No,” James told her, nudging a leg between hers. “Stand wider and looser.”

Her groan only made him chuckle.

“Patience, Natalia. I promise you. You’re going to get what you want.”

Then Steve abandoned her mouth kiss a path to her right ear. As James had with her left, he nuzzled earlobe. Then with a scrape of his teeth over her pulse point, he locked his lips in a sucking kiss that promised to leave another hickey before he tickled it with his tongue and she laughed.

They were pushing her, going from solicitous to demanding in the blink of an eye. Not that she was blinking. With the silk mask over her eyes, she just kept them closed. Their breathing was no longer steady and that sent a thrill through her veins. James turned her again and Steve went away.

With light fingers, James traced his hands from her hips over her ass and then up along her back.

The flash of being facedown and unable to move as the sensation of acid ripped through her flesh surged and she stiffened. No. James stopped moving his hands; they steadied against her spine as he pulled her a little closer. The cool metal of his left was inescapably James and she focused on that.

Cool metal and warm flesh. Her zvezda moya. No one else touched her the way he did. As alike as he and Steve could be. They touched her so differently, but even more, the coolness of those metal fingers were so familiar to her.

So welcome.

Hers.

“Still good?” James asked softly.

“Yes.”

Sweat prickled along her skin, but the breath backing up in her chest released. The bump of the record needle echoed around her quietly before the soft horn of jazz drifted through the room, then James began to move again, this time he caught her left hand in his right before he wrapped his left arm around her and then he began to dance.

Natasha nearly cried as he guided her slowly. Fuck, she wanted to see him. He never danced with her and the pressure of her breasts against his chest was a relief and a fresh torment even as she dizzily clung to him. That night in the snow had been the first time in their new acquaintance and now… The slowness of the steps pulled her with him in a series of light circles before he suddenly spun her as he stepped back and then she was dancing with Steve.

The natural glide to the sweet harmony of horns and saxophone filled her eyes with more tears. The softness of his pajama bottoms brushed against her legs and his hands were firm where they held her. Letting go of the ache to see, she focused on the feel. They wanted her to feel, to listen, and she drifted on the sensations.

“You dance so beautifully, Angel,” Steve whispered, his tone soft almost confidential. “Watching that ballet tonight, I could see you performing every step and, at the same time, I couldn’t stop watching you watch them. Did you know you get this look of absolute wonder in your eyes? I want to find you more things to fill you with that kind of wonder.”

She’d missed this. Missed the quiet talking, the gentle holding, and the relaxed motions. But if someone didn’t kiss her again soon, she might scream.

“I want to hear you say something,” Steve said.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” he whispered.

She smiled. “Anything.”

He ran his hand down her back and then a slap against her ass sent a jolt through her whole system.

“Fuck,” she exhaled. It had been sharp and stinging, but the heat spread out as he rubbed his hand over the cheek he’d struck and she swore she got wetter.

“Good fuck or bad fuck?” Steve asked and his tone was so solicitous, she couldn’t help it, she laughed.

“Language, Cap.”

A second slap jolted her and she hissed out a breath. Now that cheek was definitely stinging, but he massaged it gently even as he kept dancing.

“Steve or… hmmm… Solntce moya?”

Oh, that was an excellent accent. “You’ve been practicing.”

“A little,” he admitted. “Do you like that?”

“Da, solntce moya,” she answered. “Ty vsegda menya udivlyayesh'.”

“In French,” he ordered.

Grinning, she said, “Tu m'étonnes toujours.”

“You definitely amaze me, Angel,” he murmured. “Was this all right?” He ran his hand in a circle against her butt where he’d slapped her.

“Did you want to do it?” If he wanted her to talk, she’d talk. But she hadn’t objected or said stop, so he should get it. But she also understood his need to check with her. To make sure it was all right.

A kiss firm and hard as he stopped moving, then he stroked her flank. “Yes,” he whispered. “Does that bother you at all?”

“Not even a little.” No shame in admitting it. The sting had definitely been there, but it was Steve. He wasn’t going to hurt her. “You’d never hurt me.”

“No, I won’t,” he promised with another kiss. “So good fuck, then?”

A laugh bubbled out of her. “Da, solntce moya. A good fuck.”

“I’m going to pick you up.”

He swept her legs up, cradling her and turned. Oh, they were clever. They were throwing off her sense of where she was and for once, she didn’t care. They wanted her other senses muddled, to focus only on them.

“I am going to tell you a secret,” he murmured and James’ soft laughter was just ahead of them.

“You really can’t resist, can you?” James teased and she was pretty sure he was talking to Steve.

“Not even going to try right now. I’m too damn happy that we’re here.”

“Point,” James conceded. Then she was settled on a bed. The room smelled like hers, but she didn’t care. It could be either of theirs. It had definitely warmed up or maybe that was her.

“I got some toys to play with,” Steve told her and she blinked under the mask. And they weren’t letting her see him when he admitted this? Delight curved through her.

She opened her mouth to say something, when two fingers pressed against them. Steve. It smelled like Steve.

“But tonight, we’re limiting that. Tonight I just want to touch you, play with you, make love to you.”

A shiver went through her.

“Well, I have a toy we’re using,” James stated in that soft croon of hers that sent shivers cascading through her. “But just the one.” He ran a cool hand up her leg. “Turn over, Doll.”

She had been sitting up so she twisted and rolled over. On her stomach and she hesitated, hands still flat against the bed. The bed depressed on either side of her.

“Angel?”

“A sec.”

She was not flat on stomach, head turned away. No, she couldn’t see, but it was a mask not because they were in her blindspots. Neither of them moved or touched her as she shuttled it away and then slowly lowered herself. It was her bed. Her comforter. It smelled like them.

A shudder racked through her. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’m all right.”

They didn’t move for a long moment and she forced her muscles to relax. To focus on them. The heat rolling off them was right there, all she had to do was reach out, but they hadn’t said she could touch yet.

Gentle hands stroked up and down her back, over her hips and ass, then cool lips press a kiss to the cheek that had been stinging. No beard. James.

She closed her eyes as he ran his hands down her legs. No pain. Just teasing strokes that lit her up and left her aching. The coolness of his metal hand left goosebumps in his wake. Even the duvet was rough against her nipples and she wanted to rub against the bed, but she figured they’d just make her stop so she waited. The pressure on her back increased and the pressure eased the stiffness in her muscles and she moaned as a knot released. Steve moved with firmer touches, nothing light and no nails. Just warm, strong hands.

Another kiss against the back of her thigh teased her and then James slid a hand right against her cunt and she swallowed the second moan as he teased a finger between her labia.

“Don’t do that, Natalia,” he said his tone firm if coaxing. “We want to hear you.”

Steve brushed a kiss to her shoulder and then there was a warm trickle of dampness against her anus. Warm and wet, this time she groaned as James began to circle her clit with teasing strokes even as he pressed a warm finger against the ring of muscle.

They were going to drown her like this and she didn’t care. She alternated between tense and relaxed as Steve brushed kiss along her shoulder before working to loosen the muscles James tensed while he kept teasing her clit, not quite giving her the pressure she wanted as he worked her ass open. She didn’t know whether to press back or try to sink into the bed.

The conflicting messages left her mind writhing and then James eased the first finger in. Her mind began to blank. Suddenly, Steve gripped her hair gently and turned her head even as he eased her up and then his mouth was on hers and she sank into the kiss as she was kneeling and James worked a second finger in and finally squeezed her clit and increased the pressure. The orgasm burst over her as she gasped into Steve’s mouth.

The detonations had her rocking back to grind against both of James’ hands and he worked a third finger into her.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful like this, Natalia—so open and greedy for everything.”

She couldn’t have answered if she wanted to. She fisted the blankets on the bed as she rode the wave and then James drove her right to a second orgasm, not giving her a chance to recover from the first. His fingers left her and she shuddered as more liquid trickled over her anus, she knew it was coming and she relaxed as he eased the plug into her. It was nowhere near as nice as his cock and at the same time as she dueled with Steve’s tongue she almost sighed at the feeling of being full.

The pressure was exquisite and when Steve let her up for air there was a rustle of clothing and then James was away from her and she could hear water but she was still floating.

“Natalia,” James murmured. Oh, he was back. “You still with us?”

“Hmm-hmm,” she answered and shivered when he traced his fingers lightly down her back.

“All good, yes? Everything feels good?”

She smiled. “Hmm-hmm. But still a little empty.”

He chuckled and nuzzled her cheek. “Greedy,” he teased.

Natasha groaned. “Mean.”

“Am I?” The soft croon was back. “Didn’t I tell you we were going to take our time?”

Had he? But he didn’t wait for her answer as he kissed her and then there were warm hands on her hips—Steve—stroking her.

“This looks so good here, Angel,” he said. “I imagined it, but this is so much better.”

She was happy he liked it, since she couldn’t see it, but James devoured her mouth and she was torn between the feel of his teeth and tongue and the gentle strokes of Steve’s hand over her ass.

“Pretty,” Steve murmured. Then he cupped his palm over the cheek he hadn’t slapped and she felt it coming a moment before the slap landed and she arched her back, then the pulse of heat went straight to her cunt.

James chuckled against her mouth. “Natalia, promise me that you really are enjoying that.”

“Yes,” she told him. Please don’t ask her why, she had no explanation for it at the moment and she didn’t want to pull all her thoughts together to dig that up. Her lips were bruised and felt swollen as he nipped at her lower lip.

“Yeah?” Steve asked as he massaged the heat then came the second slap and the jolt ricocheted through her system and the moan slipped out. “You really do,” he murmured, more to himself or maybe James than her.

“Not all the time,” she managed to admit as they lifted her and flipped her over on her back the feeling of the plug remained, the pressure perfect and she ached, but in all the right ways.

“Duly noted,” Steve said, there was that possessive note in his voice. “Still empty, Angel?”

“A little—” The thought stuttered out as he lined himself up and pushed into her in one relentless thrust and her whole body arched. Missed this. Missed it so much and she forgot anything that wasn’t the feeling of Steve pushing into her. The pressure was incredible and every stroke left her desperate for more.

He lifted her, the angle shifting enough that he struck that spot that sent sparks across her vision with every thrust. She tried to match his rhythm to chase her orgasm, but the firm grip on her hips kept her still, even as her right leg pressed against his shoulder.

“Oh, she likes this,” James whispered and then he sucked one nipple against his teeth and a whole new set of sensations assaulted her.

Not being able to touch them sucked. Not being able to see them sucked. _There…fuck…right there…_ Her vision whited out even with the mask and her whole body shuddered as pleasure crashed through her. The hot mouth on her breasts pulled her back and the awareness of being impaled on Steve, but he’d stopped moving. Gentle squeezes against her hips.

“There she is,” James whispered as he lifted his head.

“I’m here,” she managed to croak.

“Good,” Steve said and he drove into her again and her mind splintered, every push sparked her higher and then James kissed her before he moved away and then Steve swarmed her, as he released her hips and she locked her legs around his waist, his mouth was hot and demanding.

“Touch him, Doll.”

Thank fuck.

She dug her fingers into his back as she matched his rhythm and the world faded as she took him over the edge with her. They collapsed together in a heap of quivering muscles and she laughed.

“Love you,” Steve whispered before he groaned slipped free of her and rolled away. She reached for him and he caught her hand and then James was there.

Oh. Hell. He had his hands against the inside of her thighs and then his mouth kissed upwards before tracing a path teasingly close to her cunt, only to continue higher before he pressed a kiss to the scar on her abdomen and the still fading yet very thin nearly invisible line on her side, it was narrowly gone. He sucked another nipple against his teeth and then his mouth closed over hers as he eased into her. She felt every single inch of him.

Oh.

Boy.

“James,” she sighed and then he eased into a gentle rocking as she spasmed around him. Everything was so sensitive and so freeing. She floated and she was grounded. The world was light and she was locked to him. Steve still held her hand and she squeezed, reminding herself he was there.

James took his time, every thrust slow and purposeful, eddying her higher as he ratcheted the tension and when he teased the plug with one hand, just a nudge, she tipped right over and flexed around him. Her inner walls fluttering yanked him right over the side.

She had a moment of pure pride before she dunked below the pleasure. When she surfaced again, the mask was off and there two pairs of deeply intense blue eyes staring at her.

“Hi,” she whispered. “I’m still here.”

“Good,” James answered, his smile very satisfied. “We have another four and a half hours to go.”

Natasha burst out laughing, as Steve’s grin grew smug. “And we have all kinds of ideas.”

“I can’t wait.”

She really couldn’t.

She had missed them. Missed this.

Not anymore.

“Want to know a secret?” she asked, still floating and so light.

“Always,” Steve said brushing her cheek gently.

“I really like this,” she admitted and James lifted his head.

“Yeah?”

“Again—not all the time, but this…oh you have no idea how good you both feel.”

The kiss James gave her was so gentle and sweet her heart wrenched and she opened her eyes to see him smiling at her. “You have no idea how good you feel.”

“Agreed,” Steve said as she turned and kissed him. His lips were swollen and a little raw. His pupils were blown, but the smile he wore, the one they both wore.

It was bliss.

“I’m here,” she promised them both. “I’m right here.”

“I have plans for you,” Steve promised and oh, she liked the sound of that.

“So do I,” James added and a shiver shook her whole body. Then he glanced at Steve. They both put out a fist and one, two, three…

Natasha laughed. Rochambeau.

Didn’t matter what they picked.

She won.


	38. Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha couldn't have asked and could never have dreamed of asking for this

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

_Bliss_

**Natasha**

She sprawled against Steve as James ran the damp cloth up her leg. The roughness of it grounded her. The fact Steve pressed his lips to her shoulder as he held her tight also helped. The panic attack hit when she’d rolled over, boneless and for a split second hadn’t been able to move and forgot how to breathe.

“Natalia,” James said, his voice soft and coaxing and she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. Her heart wasn’t racing anymore and she was pretty sure her breathing had evened out. “Stay with us, all right?” The hesitation in the question yanked at her. They’d played, laughed, and fucked for hours and out of nowhere…

“I am,” she promised. Even though the washcloth was warm it still sent a shudder of goosebumps over her as cupped her cunt gently. Everything was too sensitive. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Angel,” Steve told her before he rubbed his cheek against her shoulder. His beard alternated between rough and soft depending on how he moved his cheek against her.

“You don’t, Doll,” James moved up her belly now, his gaze watchful. “You said stop.”

She blinked. “I did?”

“Yep,” Steve sounded pretty proud of her, too. “You did. It was quiet, almost a whisper. But you said it right before you started shaking.”

“Oh.”

Well, that was something.

James traded out his washcloth for a fresh one and then began working his way up her arm. Her whole body ached, some of it good, but the rest of it from the contractions when she’d freaked.

“You want to talk about it?”

A part of her wanted to just say no and could they go back to Christmas and the fun, but they had at least another hour and if she said no, they were just going to make her take it easy. A little laugh escaped. Kind of ideal for them, she would have to let them take care of her.

“I don’t,” she said slowly. “But I will.”

Steve stilled against her back and James looked past her. They were probably trying to figure out the best way.

“I was—fine. Better than fine. I’m pretty sure I was boneless and I was definitely not thinking about anything other than either of you. My super soldier sandwich.”

That got her a small smile and a huff of a laugh. James wiped down her other arm with care. It made it easier, like he was wiping away all those remembered touches. If only it were that easy.

Irritation flared and she blew out a breath. They’d done something new. She’d been sprawled on Steve then, too, only he’d been buried in her ass as James took her cunt and it had been—epic. “No complaints,” she said and at the description, James lifted her fingers to his lips.

“None here, Doll.” Being splayed like that had been too much and not enough. Then James—she sighed. It had been perfect.

“I rolled over,” she motioned to the bed. They’d helped her shift to ease Steve out of her and so he could clean up and she didn’t want to move. “And I was just—like deadweight there and I couldn’t lift my head and then…”

The images flashed past her eyes. The room. The hard floor. The hot razors shredding her flesh… A cool hand on her cheek and she focused on James.

“And you remembered one of the tortures.”

She nodded once. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t you. Really. It wasn’t either of you.” That one had been all her.

“It’s fine Natalia, we’ll be more careful about you being on your stomach when we’ve worn you out.” For a moment, a hint of a smug grin quirked his lips though his eyes were sober. She recognized the invitation to play.

“Well, you should,” she agreed helpfully. “Especially when you’re in charge.”

Steve’s grip on her relaxed as the tension leached out of his muscles. “We will,” he affirmed, his tone so serious she worried. But when she leaned her head back to look up at him, he smiled. “Angel, there’s not a lot we won’t do. But are you really all right?”

“I feel like I ran a marathon,” she admitted. “Though to be honest, I was pretty well worn out before that.” Then she grinned. “But I’m calling tonight a win.”

The tremors were there, but they were fainter and she didn’t need to pull away from either of them. She didn’t need the barrier of the blanket. The firmness of their arms around her, warm and tight had worked too.

“Bath,” James said firmly.

A few minutes later, Steve eased her down into the tub despite the fact she said she could walk. She was sore, but it wasn’t crippling. The hot water swirled around her and Steve slid into the shower and rinsed off before he went to grab food and drinks. James had already rinsed off and slid into the water with her. When he tugged her over to lay back against his chest, she sighed.

“Thank you,” she told him.

“Oh, that was our pleasure,” he told her. “And you know it.”

She chuckled. “I do know, but you wouldn’t let me touch you all that much.”

“That sounds like a complaint,” Steve said as he carried the tray with apple stuffed croissants—he’d heated them up because they smelled great—and three large bottles of water. He set the tray on the side where they could reach it, then handed her one. “Drink.”

She made a little salute and his eyes softened. Thirstier than she’d realized, she drank about half of it before she handed it back. James shifted her as he downed some water and Steve took a long drink of his own before he slid into the water and pulled her legs over his chest as he stretched out. They all fit in this tub, barely, but they did. The guys just had to kind of sit lengthwise opposite each other, but she got to sprawl over them.

There were far worse things.

At least it was deep enough.

“What time is it?” She took a bite of a croissant because now that she’d smelled them, she was starving. “And what are the chances that the pizza place is open?”

“It’s one in the morning, Angel,” Steve told her drily. “And I hope the pizza place isn’t open, the blizzard is back.”

She made a face and then took another bite. “I could make pizza…”

James’ stomach growled and she grinned.

“Hey,” Steve said, rubbing her leg. “Merry Christmas.”

Oh, it was Christmas. Laughter threaded through her. “We should get dressed and go bounce on Tony’s bed to wake him up.”

“I’ll bite,” James said and then, as if to prove his point, he bit down on her shoulder. The negligible scrape of his teeth sent a wave of warmth through her. “Why?”

“Because I told him that’s what kids do on Christmas morning. It’s technically morning.”

“We’re not kids,” Steve said drily.

“Pfft, technicality.” That earned her laugh and she took another bite of the croissant before feeding some to James. They lingered there, soaking in the hot water until all the chills were gone and she was just relaxed. At the same time, she was wide-awake and wired. They finished their water, ate several of the croissants. But she still wanted pizza.

By the time they finished the bath and she stood, her legs weren’t shaking anymore. She caught them studying her more than once, so after pulling on her tank top and pajama bottoms then looping Steve’s dog tags back where they belonged, she eyed them.

“I told you because you deserved to know it wasn’t you that freaked me out. Everything about tonight has been great, please don’t start looking at me like I’m going to crack again.”

Steve lifted his hands. “You know, we could just be looking because we’re delighted to be able to touch you again.”

“Could be,” James added. “Or I could be figuring out just how many times we can slap your ass before we get to too many.”

“That, too,” Steve agreed. “There are still silk ropes and feathers.”

Her eyebrows rose at the reminder. “Speaking of which, you two are in trouble.” With a sniff, she sailed out of the bedroom and headed for the kitchen. The croissants had been great, but she needed more food and they’d actually skipped dinner entirely. A hot dog didn’t count for any of them.

“Why are we in trouble?” James asked, stalking after her. He paused long enough to scoop her half-forgotten dress from the ground along with the scraps of her lingerie.

Flour in hand, she pivoted and met James’ gaze. “First Clint took _you_ to a sex shop without me. Now _you_ took Steve? And you didn’t even think I’d want to be there.”

“Well, to be fair, Angel,” Steve said as he joined them. “Tony’s the one who actually took me.”

Her mouth opened, then she snapped it shut with a pop. And he hadn’t teased Steve once about it all day. At least not where she’d heard him and there’d been no friction. Warmth blossomed in her chest. She was oddly proud of both of them.

“Huh,” she admitted and Steve grinned.

“I’ll be damned.”

James glanced at him. “Yeah. Natalia is not often speechless.”

“Hmmph.” She wrinkled her nose and then got to work building her pizza crust.

Steve turned on a couple of the lamps. She’d turned on the overhead, not asking Friday to light it up. It was nice to keep it a little cozier. James vanished into her bedroom with her clothes and her shoes. Her blades better make it back in there, too, but she was in too much of a good mood to complain. The windows were frosty looking and it was a wall of blowing snow outside.

It was nice to be in where it was warm and…

Sliding his hands over her hips, Steve wrapped his arms around her. “Are you really mad that I went without you?”

“No,” she said. “Would it have been fun for me? Probably. But I’m proud of you.”

“Because I went to a sex shop?” He sounded skeptical.

“Well, more because you stepped outside your comfort zone.” She leaned back and rose on her tiptoes to rub her cheek against his jaw. “But I can confirm I definitely enjoyed the results of the bet.”

His bark of laughter and light kiss before he let her go made her grin. “I’m glad. I found some interesting stuff there.”

“Well, I look forward to discovering it,” she said with a wink.

James wandered back out and leaned against the counter as Steve pulled out the milk. “You’re really making pizza, Doll?”

“We didn’t have dinner,” she reminded him. “And I’m hungry. I cannot live on my apple croissants alone.”

“I can,” Steve admitted as he grabbed another and they laughed. It took her a bit to get the dough rolled out for three pizzas, one each. They kept her company, helpfully decimating the apple stuffed croissants to make room.

James made her tea and Steve put the coffee on. She wasn’t the only one awake. Her body hummed with every casual brush, simmering and just waiting to catch fire again. Natasha had no complaints on that front. Wanting them and not being able to stand their touch was a cognitive dissonance that unsettled her.

Finally, she got the pizzas loaded in the oven and her hands washed. James sent her over to drink her tea while he cleaned up the counters.

It was closer to two in the morning now. Steve put on another record, more slow jazz but this one of Christmas tunes. He cued up the television to give them a fire. When James finished in the kitchen, he shut off the lights and walked out to join them.

She leaned against James as he slid onto the sofa and half-lifted her so she settled against his chest.

“Good?” he asked and she smiled.

“You didn’t even spill my tea.”

From the chair, Steve studied them both with a small smile.

“Fine,” James huffed. “We’re not kids anymore, Steve. We _can_ wait until morning.”

What could wait until morning? Steve tossed back a long drink of his coffee, then set down the mug and went over to the tree. A lot of the presents they’d taken up to the penthouse had been returned. But not all of them. They would go up and do more presents with Tony and Peter in the morning—well later that morning—or they would come down. It didn’t matter. They would be together.

“Oh, we’re doing presents now?” She leaned forward as James skimmed his fingers along her arm. Little touches, constant ones, as if to reassure himself he could and she wasn’t complaining. Her pulse was steady, if anything, she wanted to lean into the contact.

“Apparently,” James drawled. “Stevie can’t wait.”

“I blame Peter,” Steve claimed as he lifted a box out from behind the tree. “He started it.”

“That’s it, blame the fifteen-year-old for your poor impulse control,” he teased. “Punk.”

“Jerk. And you can wait for your present then, Natasha wants hers now, yes?”

She wasn’t going to lie. “Absolutely.” Twisting, she slid her mug over to the table before sliding forward to perch on the edge of the sofa. Finding presents for people was an adventure. In the beginning, it had been a challenge. The first gift she could remember getting just because was a plant Clint gave her for her first apartment. James had likely given her something, or maybe not, they had been so limited then. His time and love had been a gift. One Karpov and the others kept trying to take away.

Diverting from that mental path, she stared at the large rectangle Steve carried over to her. It was a painting. The shape, the way it was wrapped—Steve had painted something for her. She didn’t try to guess. At least not aloud.

After the few times she’d guessed each of the presents Clint had given her, he stopped wrapping them and just thrust them at her. Her lips twisted and Steve raised his brows.

She licked her lips then smiled. Not reaching out to trace her fingers over the dark blue paper with its snowflakes and little snowmen on it. “Confession…”

That snagged their attention.

“When I was first with SHIELD, you know I lived there for months and then finally got my own place. Clint gave me this plant. First present I can remember getting and it was a plant. I really wasn’t sure what to do with it…”

“So you researched it,” James guessed. “The care and feeding.”

“Yes,” Natasha admitted. “But there are literally hundreds of varieties of plants and the only thing the plant came with was a little placard that literally said _house plant_.”

Her disgust must have shown because Steve and James both started laughing.

“It was virtually impossible to find out what kind of care it needed just based on that. So I took it to a few different nurseries.” She’d never told Clint this part. In some ways, she’d felt like a failure because she might end up killing his gift. “Finally, some woman took pity on me and explained that I could keep it in diffused light but it needed regular sunlight for at least a few hours each day and that I should put my finger to a certain level in the soil to tell if it had enough water. Sounded pretty simple, except it meant I had to have the blinds open a certain amount each day.”

James grimaced and Steve raised his brows. “You didn’t like that part?”

She lifted her shoulders. “I was exposed when they were open, so I found a path through the apartment that covered the sightlines and let the plant get light.”

Rubbing her back, James said, “Because Clint gave it to you.”

“Yeah—then he would give me little things and I would guess what they were before I opened them and he got mad.”

Steve bit his lip.

“For the longest time, he wouldn’t wrap anything anymore. Just gave me the present. Couldn’t figure out why the fact I _could_ figure out what it was bugged him—then he gave me a list of rules for Christmas at his house.”

Though he tried, Steve couldn’t stop grinning. “Rules?”

“Yes. Rule #1, Christmas is a happy holiday, you must smile at least three times.”

James snorted.

“Rule #2, all presents will be wrapped and considered _secure_ from inspection, analysis, or speculation until opened on Christmas morning. Apparently guessing what is in the box is frowned on.” It was hard to not to deduce the contents at times, but she did her best to refrain.

Steve covered his mouth.

“Rule #3, Santa is a fact. Not a myth. Not a tale we tell the children. He isn’t Krampus or Russian or any other scary story. He’s a fat, jolly man with a beard and a red suit and he will come down the chimney and you won’t be shooting him.”

“Why would you have shot Santa?” James asked. “Besides the fact he isn’t real?”

“I wouldn’t, I had a rule that said I couldn’t and I was to agree with the all the terms he laid out about Santa. He also made me watch every holiday Christmas special as research.”

Giving up the attempt, Steve laughed.

She sighed. “Rule #4…”

“How many rules did he give you Doll?”

“Ten, though he added eleven the following year and repealed it the year after that.”

She traced a finger against the wrapping paper. “Anyway, rule #4, Christmas is for family, we sit around in our PJs as we open presents—after breakfast (Laura’s rule) and it can’t just be a donut (also Laura’s rule) and if you eat just one piece of bacon and call it breakfast, you don’t get to open presents (also Laura’s rule).”

James guffawed. “Becca used to do that. One bite and she said done and then she’d race for the tree.”

He and Steve shared a grin. “Sounds like Clint did the same thing,” Steve commented. “Rule #5?”

“If construction is required and you put it under the tree, you have to build it.” She grinned. “I got Lila a dollhouse. It took us hours to put it together.”

“Someone better tell Tony that rule,” James commented. “Course he’ll probably help build it anyway if it isn’t already built.”

He had a point.

“Rule #6?” James prompted.

“Christmas songs are supposed to bring you to tears at some point. Let it.” She made a face and Steve raised his brows.

“Did they?”

“There is no evidence.” Except earlier—when James danced with her, but that wasn’t Christmas music specifically so it didn’t count. “Rule #7, Christmas should be magical. Do something fun for the kids to put wonder in their eyes.”

“Hence our day of fun,” Steve said slowly and she grinned.

“Well that was more for me and us than the kids…”

“Spider-Punk counts,” James said, marking an imaginary check in the air. “Rule #8?”

“You will be hugged and kissed and probably covered in food at some point. Deal with it.”

Neither of them offered any argument to that. Steve leaned forward and gave her a kiss. “That’s a rule I can get behind.”

She chuckled. “Rule #9—it’s okay to need time to catch your breath, but don’t disappear on us.”

After a sip of tea, she said, “Rule #10, at Christmas, Clint always wins.”

James snorted. “Yeah, we can now repeal _that_ rule.”

All of them laughed. “What about eleven?” Steve asked.

“#11 Just because the kids ask for it doesn’t mean you need to get it.” Clint repealed it because she got stuck on what to get them if she didn’t know what they wanted. “But I did run their presents by him and Laura so that helped, I suppose.”

Meeting Steve’s gaze, she smiled.

“Sorry, I kind of got us off-track.”

“No,” Steve said slowly. “That was definitely worth knowing.”

“Agreed,” James added then whispered, “But if he has to wait much longer to give you your present he’s going to open it for you.”

“I will not,” Steve muttered, glaring at him. He laid a hand on her leg, stabilizing her before he reached around her to thump James.

Now this—this was normal. James refrained from retaliating because she reached for her present. Steve covered her hand.

“Actually, this is for both of you.”

Her stomach bottomed out. James went still behind her. Steve glanced from her to him and then back.

“I really hope you like it.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to open it, but at the same time… she couldn’t turn down the chance to rip open the paper. “We will,” she told him.

“You haven’t even seen it yet, Angel.”

“But you made it.” Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Steve had created it. That already made it important.

Shifting forward James settled his chin on her shoulder as she tore open the paper. The painting was Natasha and Mary—it was similar to the photo she and James had found in Brooklyn. Only different. Steve had shifted it so you could see Natasha’s face as well as Mary’s and she blinked rapidly as she identified the image just visible when she tilted her head. James was there. Maybe not physically, but the image of him was hidden in the painting, too.

The clog of tears in her throat had her swallowing hard. One hand bracing the painting, she covered her mouth with her hand.

“It’s the closest I can come to giving her back to both of you,” Steve said quietly. “I know it’s…”

“Punk,” James said, his voice rough. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

How long had it taken him to paint this? _When_ had he painted it? They’d just found the photo.

Steve wavered a little in her vision and she swiped at the tears. “It’s beautiful.” She couldn’t look away from it.

“I went back and forth on it,” he told them quietly. “But I went ahead and painted it—because I wanted to do something. This I could do.”

Another tear escaped and she wiped at it. “It’s really beautiful—thank you.”

He touched her cheek, just a brush to swipe away another tear. “We don’t have to hang it—”

“Yes we do,” James said firmly. “It’s a memory you recaptured for us. We keep it.” Then he glanced at her. “Yeah?”

She nodded. The oven beeped, thankfully, and she let Steve take the painting while she went to retrieve their pizzas and get it together again.

No defenses for what was a blow to the emotional solar plexus. Emotions cloud things. She had a lot of emotions. But at the same time… She glanced over her shoulder. James and Steve were hugging and she smiled, looking back to the pizzas to give them a minute.

It was a _good_ present.

After they devoured the pizza, Steve coaxed her back into the bedroom. Not that it was difficult. Only this time, she didn’t have to keep her hands to herself and by the time she was boneless again, she didn’t miss how James rolled her to her side and held her. Flopping was the next thing she planned to reclaim. As it was, she was content to relax with James wrapped around her.

“Quick shower,” he murmured against her ear. The sound of the water had come on a few seconds earlier, but she’d been drifting. She might have made a grunting noise, but James only laughed softly as he pulled her up.

“Sleep,” she muttered and he made a soothing noise. Food. Laughter. Talking. Sex. She was so tired.

“I promise. But you’ll feel better if you shower.”

She felt just fine right now. Sore and achy and stretched, but… “Fine,” she groaned and curled up against him as he picked her up. “You do all the work.” Then she tucked her head against his shoulder, eyes closing.

His laughter wrapped around her all the way into the shower. The water was warm, thankfully, and when he set her on her feet, she went through the motions of a sketchy shower. Avoiding getting her hair wet as much as she could.

After she stepped out, Steve was waiting with a big towel and he rubbed her down then pulled out her lotion and she laughed. “Really?”

“I’d like to,” he said. “Do you mind?”

His hair was damp; he must have taken the first shower. She really had been out of it. No wonder the shower had been warm already. “No,” she murmured.

It was kind of nice to let him run it over her arms and legs, then over her torso, and she smiled when he pressed a kiss to each of her breasts, before turning her. She leaned against the counter as he rubbed it over her back.

His gaze caught on hers in the mirror. “Hey…”

“Hey.” When he didn’t say anything more, but continued to study her with a small smile, she raised her eyebrows and turned around. “What?”

“Just—missed this.” He brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “Hated that someone made you feel that way.”

“We’re all a little fucked up,” she told him, then caught his hand and leaned up even as he dipped his head to kiss her lightly.

“Some of us are a lot fucked up,” James said as the shower shut off and he looped a towel around his waist.

Steve chuckled. “Well, we can all be fucked up together.”

“Tsk, tsk. Solntce moya, language.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve gripped her hips and lifted her up to sit on the counter, then he nibbled a light kiss. The marble was chilly against her butt, but she didn’t care.

“You think you can sleep now?”

Head tipped back, she considered it. He’d pulled his pajama bottoms back on, but she didn’t feel like climbing back into hers. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she sighed. “For a little while. Morning is going to be here soon and we need to fly out to the Compound later.”

“C’mon,” he lifted her again and she locked her thighs to his hips as he carried her back into the bedroom. He dropped her onto the bed and she bounced once with a laugh. Someone had changed the linens and pulled a different comforter and blanket set out. “Why the big sigh?”

“Because I can’t wait to see everyone,” she explained as she scooted up and under the blankets. James swapped his towel for his pajama bottoms. With a t-shirt in hand, he turned to face her. It was one of his, so he probably intended for her to wear it, maybe. Still, she grinned at him as she pulled the blankets up. He glanced at the shirt, then her and then dropped it on her dresser before heading over. She reached out and flipped the covers back.

No more sleeping with all the blankets separating them. Steve still sat, facing her on his side of the bed and he studied her with assessing eyes. “But?”

“But I kind of want to stay here and just be us.” She lifted her shoulders, then forced out a breath as she relaxed them. “Transparency?”

James slid onto his side under the covers and settled a hand on her abdomen as she leaned back into the pillows—including her two newly acquired ones. No she wasn’t giving them those pillows back. Well, maybe eventually during a pillow fight.

“Always,” James answered and Steve nodded.

“It kind of feels like we’re leaving the island again.” She traced her fingers over James’. “I want to go, there are things I need to do. Things, we…” She focused on James for a moment. “Things we need to do. But it’s going to change again.”

“The change wasn’t so bad,” Steve said. “We’re figuring it out.”

She chuckled. “We are.” They were. They were all figuring it out. She patted the bed next to her. “C’mon. No being apart tonight. I want to feel both of you.”

“Pretty sure you’ve felt us both several times,” James commented. “But I can go for one more.” He slid his hand downwards teasingly and she groaned.

“You just want to see me walking funny tomorrow.”

“Oh, I know we’ll see you walking funny tomorrow.” He grinned and Steve laughed as he slid under the covers. “Lights, please Friday, shutting down for the night full sleep mode.”

The bedroom went dark and Steve rolled onto his side and settled a hand against her chest just above her heart even as James drifted his touch back to her abdomen. He cupped his hand over the scar there and she sighed.

Natasha yawned, her jaw cracking a little and it set Steve off. Then James. It was such a perfect round, she giggled.

“Shh,” Steve whispered against her ear. “Or you’ll wake yourself up again.”

Maybe.

As heavy as her eyelids were, she doubted it. She drifted, then blinked and the room had gone grayish with the light. James and Steve were both sound asleep, still. None of them had moved and she smiled.

A light chime sounded again and she glanced up at the ceiling. “Yes, Friday?”

“It’s almost seven, Nat,” Friday said quietly. “Boss and Peter are awake and have been making breakfast, but they didn’t want to bother you before it was ready.”

“They made breakfast?” Steve asked, his eyes still closed.

“Yes, Captain Rogers, Peter has been practicing his pancake making.”

“Is there coffee?” James didn’t lift his head, his eyes still sealed shut.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes. Boss has yours and Captain Rogers on the third brew and he brought out the special blend for all of you.”

With a grunt, James sat up and he was adorably rumpled, a hint of scruff on his cheeks and an impression from the pillow near his eye.

Steve rolled off the bed and went straight into the bathroom.

“Wait,” she said, turning all that information over in her head. “Why is Tony up before seven when he didn’t have to be?”

“It’s Christmas, Red. Get your gorgeous ass out of bed and come have coffee, food, and presents. Not necessarily in that order. Coop and Lila are also awake already and expecting us out there by nine, ten at the latest.” He sounded so chipper.

Steve chuckled. “Her gorgeous ass will be there shortly, attached to the rest of her.”

Natasha groaned and rolled over to stuff her face in the pillows. She wanted a couple of hours of sleep more. Three…

The blankets whisked away and James had her up. “Sorry, Doll, there’s a quick solution to this.”

It hit her the moment they were heading for the shower. “I will gut you with a spoon.”

“I love you, too.” Then they were both under the icy water and she was _awake_.

He was still laughing when she punched him.

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face as James went to block her next strike. “Ah, the simple joy of Christmas morning.” He sounded so indulgent, Natasha snorted and James backed off from the shower as the water turned warm. He was right, it did wake her up.

She washed her hair swiftly, then slid out to towel off and get dressed. Dressed in her ugly sweater, yoga pants and fuzzy socks, she padded out to the living room to find James waiting with his eyes half-closed.

“I could get you an icy glass of water to dump over your head if you need it.”

He chuckled. “I’m good, Doll. Feel better?”

Actually, she did. Like her, James had pulled on his Christmas sweater along with jeans and his feet were bare. He still seemed deliciously rumpled and she ran her fingers through his hair. He dipped his head to accommodate her, then let out a little sigh as she ran her fingers over his scalp.

“Keep that up and we’ll never get moving,” Steve murmured as he wrapped his arms around her. “Still good?”

She smiled. “Very.” Twisting, she kissed him lightly. “Coffee.”

James straightened. “Coffee.”

“Presents down here, or do we want to take them up with us?”

“We can bring them back down,” Natasha said, linking her fingers with theirs, pausing long enough to snag her mug from Peter from the gift bag. James fingered the tag for a moment.

“Mama Spider?”

“Yep, he said I remind him of his mother.” The little twist that did to her heart pinched, but she smiled.

“Kid’s got good taste,” Steve said simply. Then they were in the elevator and on their way up. The doors opened to—

Natasha stared. The penthouse was draped in more Christmas than she’d brought up for the interview. Christmas music drifted through the speakers. More the furniture had been rearranged again and the tree was planted to the right of an actual fireplace with a fire crackling away in it. It was the picture of Christmas with the storm raging beyond and the world looking like it had been blanketed in snow.

Tony popped around the corner, Santa hat in place and wearing his Christmas sweater and a jolly Christmas apron that said _This way to the Christmas Party_. “Surprise Red, Merry Christmas.”

“You built a fireplace?”

“Something like that,” he grinned. “Come on, food’s hot. Pete, your guinea pigs for the pancakes are here.” There was a manic cheerfulness to him, but his eyes were bright and clear as he spotted the mug in her hand. “Perfect, you brought yours, too.” He snagged it and waved them in.

Natasha kept glancing at the fireplace as she followed.

“Morning!” Peter said dressed not only in his Christmas sweater and jeans, but sporting a very jolly holiday apron as well. His read _Sleighed it!_

When Friday said breakfast was ready, she hadn’t been kidding. There was bacon, scrambled eggs, sausage, pancakes, and a huge bowl of fried potatoes.

“Coffee there for you and Bucky, Steve,” Tony motioned to the larger coffee maker with its exceptionally dark brew. “Everyone caffeine up and eat. Then we’ll dive into presents. Time check, Friday?”

“It’s 7:08, Boss. You have one hour and fifty-two minutes before you need to depart. Conditions are not optimal for flight, but Nat is rated for hazardous conditions.”

“Yes, I am, we’ll be fine.”

Tony passed her the coffee and then pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Go drink the coffee, I’ll bring you a plate if you want.” He was so hyped. As he strode away, she tracked the movement then glanced at Peter. There was a hint of shadows beneath his eyes, too. They hadn’t slept.

Either of them.

Shaking her head, she took a sip of the coffee and sighed. James lifted his mug toward her in silent toast and she winked. It took a couple of minutes to sort themselves out, but she sat on the floor near the fire with her plate on the coffee table. The heat brushed against her and it was nice. The faintest hints of wood smoke, pine, and cedar teased her nose. There were pinecones in the fireplace.

Peter dropped to sit down next to her and nodded to the fireplace. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“It’s wonderful,” she told him, bumping his shoulder. “But if you need to crash later, go to my suite at the Compound. Friday will let you in.”

He grinned, his expression sheepish. “I’m okay.”

“Breakfast is good,” Steve said. “Thanks guys.”

“We figured since you guys always end up cooking for us, we’d return the favor.” Tony settled in his chair, a mug of coffee in hand.

“Not eating?” She eyed him.

“I already ate,” he told her, then stuck out his tongue. “I was supervising chef and official taste tester.”

“He ate the first round of fried potatoes and almost all of the eggs,” Peter whispered at an audible tone and Tony just shrugged.

“Had to make sure they were good enough. Told you they needed to be crispier. And I was right. Red’s eaten almost all of hers, so I did my job.”

James snorted, but he and Steve were decimating their pancakes. “You did good, pauk pank.”

Peter’s eyes brightened and his grin grew. “Soon as we’re done, we’re doing presents. Friday, time check?”

“It’s 7:17, Mr. Parker. You have one hour and forty-three minutes until you need to depart.”

“Excellent.”

Natasha had to bite back a smile as she sipped her coffee. No sooner did she finish her plate, then Tony bounced out of the chair.

“Need more?”

“Coffee,” Natasha agreed and handed him her mug. “But I’m good for food.”

“Got it. Pete, what about you?” Tony pointed a finger at him.

“I’m getting a little more,” Peter admitted and he usurped her empty plate to rise. They both looked at Steve and James. James passed Peter his plate obligingly.

“I could stand another stack if you got ‘em. Don’t make more if you don’t.”

Steve chuckled. “I’ll help.” Then he was following the other two into the kitchen.

“If you’re doing anything in here, grab your apron Steve. I hung one for each of us there,” Tony announced.

Elbows on the table, Natasha tracked their motion, then glanced at James, eyebrows raised.

“We’re _all_ different kinds of fucked up,” he reminded her in a low tone. “They’re fine, Doll. They seem happy.”

They did. Very happy. “Almost as happy as you were when you and Clint got back from your errand,” she said, her first skimming attempt and his smile deepened.

“They do, don’t they?” He winked at her then lifted his coffee. Whatever secret he was keeping, he planned to keep it. Crossing her arms on the table edge, she propped chin against them.

No complaints. She was pleasantly sore and humming. She was surrounded by those closest to her—save for Clint, his family and Wanda. They’d be with them soon enough.

This might be hands down the best holiday she’d spent in a long time. Maybe ever. She could appreciate it now and wasn’t hoping for a call out to save her from the madness. “Will you tell me about Christmas in Montana later?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

James lowered his mug and met her gaze gently. “Anything you want, Doll.”

“I want,” she whispered.

He nodded once.

Then the others were back and Tony set her coffee in front of her. She sipped the coffee and studied the fire while Peter devoured another half-dozen pancakes. He finished in record time, then stared at Steve and James as they took their time eating through their new stacks.

An unnaturally slow time. An agonizing eternity for the teenager and grown man who’d begun to vibrate as James made the neatest, smallest segments and chewed them with the thoroughness usually reserved for jerky, not pancakes. Natasha lifted her mug in an attempt to control her laughter as James went even slower when Tony joined in the staring.

Peter looked at her, his eyes wide. “How much slower can they go?”

“Don’t tempt them, malen’kiy pauk. They are a punk and a jerk respectively and Steve is as eager as you are to open presents.” She knew exactly who started their who can eat slower race and the fact she earned a pair of dirty looks for her comment just made her smile wider.

When they finally finished, Tony let out a dramatic sigh. “Finally. Time for presents! Since I’m me, I’m giving mine first—well mine and Pete’s, then mine, then you can do yours.”

“Well as long as you’re clear on it,” Natasha teased him.

“Behave, Red, or I’ll make you wait until the end.”

“I’m terribly intimidated and chastened,” she said drolly, batting her eyes. To her delight, Tony stuck his tongue out before he stood and beckoned to Peter. “Let’s deliver these, shall we?” He motioned to the three in the front.

Peter bounded over and picked up the first two and carried them over, he set one in front of James and the other in front of Steve. Propping her chin on her fist, she settled in to watch them study the boxes.

“Does it matter which of us goes first?” James asked.

With a shake of his head, Peter gestured to the boxes. “No, you can open in any order.” Then he picked up the third box and set it in front of Natasha. They were different sizes—James’ larger than hers or Steve’s.

Tony had folded his arms, his expression intent. Whatever was in those boxes was important to him. When he caught her eye, he smirked and dropped his folded arms. _Too late_, she mouthed. She’d already seen it and he rolled his eyes, then just grinned as Steve and James put out their fists to Rochambeau.

Liquid heat unfolded in her belly at the gesture and she licked her lips. Yeah, the last time they Rochambeau’d had worked out very well for her. Steve laid paper over James’ rock and wore and honest smirk and she giggled.

With care, he slit the paper at the seams with such precision that Tony actually gawked. “God, I forgot what a pain in the ass you were about it.” Yes, the first time Steve had done that had driven Tony to distraction—only then they’d all been down in the Common Room and she’d been perched on the sofa while the guys dug through the presents.

“Nat will give you all the grip it and rip it you could want,” Steve said drily. Paper off, he flipped the box open. A watch stared up at him. Natasha raised her brows as he removed it. The links were thick and seemed reinforced.

Balancing it carefully, Steve glanced up to meet Tony’s gaze. “What does it do?”

“Put it on,” Tony told him. “Controls are located on the edges.”

Steve strapped it on his left wrist and Tony beckoned him up.

“Right side button.” Steve hit it and gauntlet flowed out over his hand.

“Reinforced alloy, same one I’m using for my suits. You already hit like a tank, this just protects your hand. It also has a single-discharge repulsor. It’s a one-off and it will need time to recharge, but if you’re caught out, no armor, no suit or stuck behind a door you can’t actually kick down on your own,” Tony made that sound like a relative impossibility. “That’s your way out.”

Steve stared at the gauntlet. It was dark blue and fit him perfectly. “Thank you, Tony.”

“Not done,” Tony grinned. “Fist your hand and squeeze it three times in rapid succession.”

The gauntlet retracted back to a watch.

“Left button,” Tony was rubbing his goatee as he studied the results. James gripped his present but leaned forward to watch.

This time the armor coated Steve from head to foot and Peter let out a little cheer. A clear field flashed over his face.

“Environmental hazard suit. No more sludge threats. You’re the guy on the ground; the suit can take a pounding and withstand your strength. Pete’s tested it a few times this week. It’s not invulnerable, but close enough. Rated for extreme temperatures but avoid a volcano please. Also has about seven minutes of oxygen. Working on upping that rating, but it should be enough for now. Same principle to retract it.”

The dark blue armor also had his star in the center.

“Tony…” Steve began.

“One more fun bit, Cap—well two. Don’t press it, but the top button will call your shield to you, just flex your wrist back to hit it. Shield not there? Fine, hit top and bottom ones at the same time.”

A rounded force shield snapped into place and Tony turned to high five Peter. Both of them whooping. It was—an amazing gift.

“Thank you,” Steve said slowly as he stared at the watch and the shield vanished. “Both of you.” But he met Tony’s gaze and Tony’s grin grew lazy as he shrugged it off.

“Gotta keep you in one piece. You know how it goes.”

Though Tony was trying to make light of it, Steve didn’t seem remotely dissuaded. “I do and thank you.” When he held out his hand, Natasha forced herself not to suck in a breath. Then Tony clasped it.

Their handshake was brief, but firm. Then Tony slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “All right, Buck, you’re up.”

Natasha met Steve’s gaze and she read the surprise and the pleasure in his eyes. Tony’s gift had shocked him more than he probably wanted to admit. He returned to the sofa as James shredded the paper from his box.

Meeting Tony’s gaze, Natasha smiled. He gave her a small grin and nodded to where James flipped open the box—he stopped, all expression draining away as he stared at the… she lifted her head a little… arm. There was an arm.

“Hear me out…” Tony said. “I’ve been working with Shuri. This arm is exactly like the one you already have except—_better_.”

Glancing from his arm to the one in the box, James said, “Do I have to swap them out to determine it?”

“I can tell you, but I’d rather show you.” Tony didn’t glance away from James’ stare. “And I can walk you through every spec on the upgrades. If pain is the worry, it’s not going to hurt. That kid knows her stuff. I can walk Red through removing it and swapping them out if you want.”

Steve had also gone still. Some of the morning’s cheer bled away as the tension ballooned. This was a risky gift, but this was also so Tony. He built things to show people he cared what happened to them. That he built something for _anyone_ was a big damn deal.

James looked from Tony to her and she smiled. “I don’t mind helping if you want me to do it. But you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

The rigid line of his shoulders was a defensive posture. For all that he’d grown more comfortable with himself and found all those missing pieces, this had to be close to a trigger for him if not a trigger itself.

“Natalia does it,” James said, making a decision and she unfolded herself from the floor.

“Good deal. Red’s got tiny hands, so perfect for this.”

Steve surrendered his spot on the sofa so she could kneel next to James. One hand on his left arm, she waited until she had his attention before she said, “You don’t have to.”

It bore repeating.

“You can say stop.” It was a firm reminder of the night before. “I want you to say stop if you really don’t want to do this.”

No one else said anything even if Peter held himself so tightly rigid with worry. This gift was really important to him, but not as important as it was to Tony. No matter how blasé he tried to keep his expression, the lines around his eyes had tightened.

He’d built something for _James_. She didn’t want to know what that cost him later, but she’d find out. There was putting himself out for them and then there was hurting himself. She really didn’t want it to be the latter.

“It’s all right,” James said softly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “You won’t hurt me.”

She smiled. “Never.”

He nodded. “I know.”

When he sounded a bit more relaxed, she glanced at Tony. “What am I doing?”

With an exhale of breath, he reached behind his chair and pulled out a couple of tools. “Friday, give me the schematics.”

An image popped up for them. It showed the arm design, then where she needed to put her fingers to access the small, almost imperceptible hatch. James squinted at it, studying it as she did. He scooted forward on the sofa and stripped his shirt and sweater up and over.

Peter sucked in a breath. His gaze riveted on the scarring across James’ chest and shoulder. That or he was looking at the bites she’d left on him, but she ignored that for the moment.

“Arm up,” she murmured and he raised his arm. Steve had moved to stand next to Peter, he’d put a hand on his shoulder and she kept her smile to herself as she worked her fingers into the spot. There.

“Got it.” She held out her free hand and Tony laid the small spanner in it. Tilting her head, she worked the spanner into the spot and checked the schematic as she traced her fingers over the spots. Slotting into place, she twisted and the arm gave a little pop and James grimaced.

“Hurt?”

He shook his head. “Just disconcerting.”

Bracing the arm, she pulled it free. It was heavier than it looked and she grunted. James stabilized it swiftly with his right hand. Gently, they set it down and she reached for the new arm. Smoother than his current one, she couldn’t feel the seams between the rills.

With care, she got it slid into position and then locked it in. It went in easier than the other came out. As she tightened it his fingers flexed. His expression shifted as he studied it and she settled back, sitting on her heels as he moved the arm and tested it.

“It’s lighter.”

Tony nodded slowly, his expression intent as he studied the arm and James’ reaction. “It’s still vibranium, she had it constructed with my modifications and we were able to finish the upgrades when it arrived. Lighter is part of it, far less pulling on the muscles and it may take you some time to readjust for balance.”

A sharp nod.

“You might want to stand up for the next part.”

James slanted her a look and she brushed her fingers down the arm. His jerk surprised both of them.

“Well that’s one upgrade,” Tony said with a note of glee. “Feel that did you?”

James glanced at his hand then reached over to brush her cheek. His sudden smile delighted her. “It was tingling…” Amazement rolled through every syllable. “But—I can feel more than just pressure and the fact something is there—your skin is soft,” he finished, looking at her.

Peter coughed, but Steve let out a laugh as Tony clapped his hands together. “Excellent. We need to monitor it though. We’re giving you nerve signals long since gone unused, but even Strange suggested that we had the right parameters. So just be prepared for the occasional ache and we may need to tweak.”

“No problem,” James said as he trailed his fingers to her hair.

Clearing his throat, Tony said, “Would you like to finish this tour of your upgraded arm that I spent weeks working on or do you just want to stare at Red? I know I’m all in favor for admiring her, but my ego needs just a bit of your attention.”

Natasha grinned and cut her gaze to Tony. “Your ego deserves _all_ the attention.”

He lit up.

With one last brush of her hair, James stood up. Then moved to where Steve had stood to test his watch.

Rubbing his hands together, Tony said, “Squeeze your thumb and ring fingers together. Don’t snap.”

James did it and a shield popped up just like Steve’s.

“Ha!” Tony crowed and looked at Peter. “You said it wouldn’t work.”

“No I said you were asking too much of it.” But you couldn’t argue with Peter’s grin.

James shifted his arm around and found he could still use his hands even with the force-shield there, but it seemed to zap him a little when it brushed his leg.

“Shock?” Natasha asked.

“No, just more tingling.”

“Someone else hits it, they’re going to get a real shock,” Tony said drily. “Same deal as Steve, three swift squeezes of your fist.” The shield vanished.

He wouldn’t need a gauntlet.

“It doesn’t turn into body armor does it?” James’ tone said plainly he didn’t want that.

“Nope, ‘fraid not. Maybe in a future version. I was more interested in the nerve function.”

“But it’s going to hurt when he hits things now,” Steve said slowly. Natasha had already considered that, but it wouldn’t slow James down. He could compartmentalize pain the same way she could.

“Not exactly, under extreme pressure, the nerves will shut down on pain reception. He’ll be back to the feeling of pressure and solidity. You can also activate that using thumb and forefinger together.”

James performed the action, a speculative gleam in his eye and then he nodded once. He did it again and grinned. “Okay, that will take some getting used to.”

“A little zingy,” Tony said. “Sorry, still working a little.”

“Pal, I can live with the zing. I can feel Natalia’s skin again. We’re better than good.”

Tony chuckled. “Well I’m afraid it’s got one more function and one of the reasons I skipped the suit.”

Natasha raised her brows.

“Thumb and pinky together,” Tony told him, folding his arms.

With a glance at her, James did it and Natasha blinked. The ripple over his arm was perceptible but the metal faded and it looked—like an arm.

James’ whole expression transformed, his eyes widening as he held up two hands, almost identical—both looked like flesh and blood.

“Can’t give you the real thing back, Sergeant, but I can damn sure make you more comfortable in public without having to hide it.” Even the shoulder joint had turned to flesh toned. Scarred and a little rigid with its ridges, but it matched his other scars.

Steve had to blink back tears and Natasha’s eyes wavered, but she tracked James’ reactions closely as he glanced up from his hands to meet Tony’s gaze.

“Merry Christmas, Bucky. I kind of owed you an arm.”

“I owe you a hell of a lot more,” Bucky said.

“Not anymore,” Tony told him and he held out his hand this time. “Clean slate?”

Curling her fingers into the palms of her hands, she let the bite of her nails, short as they still were, keep her from letting out a sob. The ballooning tension from earlier swelled. Tony had gone _way_ above and beyond. But when James gripped his hand and they shook, she fought to swallow the emotion clogging her throat.

“Clean slate,” James said. “Thank you, Tony.”

“You’re welcome,” Tony told him. Then he grinned. “And that’s enough maudlin, it’s Christmas and Red’s turn.”

Four nearly misty-eyed gazes turned on her and she swiped a hand over her cheek to get rid of the tears.

But when she locked gazes with Tony she saw it all right there. He needed her to defuse this, to bring it back to the ground. No way she would refuse him.

“Well, I do like presents…” She reached for her box and shook it. “It’s not a pony is it?”

That was the right thing to say, they all laughed, even James who’d turned away to get the faint raggedness in his breathing under control as he pulled on his shirt and then his sweater. His hand was still flesh-toned and he kept curling his fingers.

Tearing the paper open, she shook her head. It wasn’t the music that was going to bring her to tears this year. It was the fact those three men had found common ground and buried grudges. It shouldn’t have worked, she understood armistice, but real peace?

Tony had already given her an amazing gift. They all had.

This.

This was bliss.


	39. Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas morning continues with gifts, laughter, and a hint of tears

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

_Gifts_

**Peter**

Delight flooded Peter. He and Tony had been working on the watch on and off for days. The arm had arrived late and he wasn’t sure the field generator would do what it was supposed to. The look on Bucky’s face had made all the hours they’d spent more than worth it. Now, Natasha had her box and he held his breath as she opened it.

When she popped it open and laughed, Peter grinned. Giving them the mugs had been a big deal and this was a close second because Tony had helped him add the modification to the work he’d done for her. What he’d done for Steve and Bucky was nothing short of amazing, but those bracelets were art.

Pure and simple.

Inside, nestled against the black velvet was a pair of bracelets and a note that said Red Mark III.

Natasha glance at them as she set the box down then pushed up her sleeves and stroked her finger against the bracelet she had on to remove it. Peter had put the new ones on a dozen times for Tony and so had Tony. They were light as air and you could barely feel them.

That was Tony’s strictest requirement; he’d had about twenty-five discarded ones in the lab because they had too much weight. While Tony hadn’t explained the importance, Peter got it. Tony didn’t want her to feel them on her wrists. _That_ was important, so Peter had focused on helping with every modification to make them _lighter._

Once they were on, Tony nodded. “Front and center, Red. How do they feel?”

Bucky shifted to the side and sat on the edge of the sofa. He’d put his shirt and sweater back on. Peter hadn’t been prepared to see the scars he had. It had been a wrenching sight, almost as much as the look on his face when the field generator created the skin tone. His hand looked real. It would still feel like metal, but that didn’t seem to upset Bucky in the slightest.

Steve leaned forward, hands clasped as he watched her.

“They feel fine,” she told him, a smile in her voice. Peter grinned. “Do I need to tap my fingers or press a button?”

“Nope,” Tony said as he glanced up. “We calibrated, Friday?”

“We are, Boss.”

“Okay, tap them together twice.”

She raised her brows. “Seriously?”

“Just tap them, Red,” he said with an aggrieved sigh that didn’t come close to matching the grin he wore. He tapped his fists together to make a clapping sound. Then clapped his wrists as an example. “Just double-tap the bracelets together.”

The curve of her lips deepened as she tapped the bracelets and then the armor spilled out of them, the nanites sliding over her until she was suited in a rough facsimile of her tact suit. Steve straightened and so did Bucky.

Tony grinned. “Pete, give her a love tap.”

“Uh…” Peter glanced at him. They hadn’t discussed that.

“Just a tap,” Tony mimed a light punch. “At her arm.”

Curling her fingers, Natasha beckoned. “I won’t hurt you,” she said with a grin. “I promise. Free shot.”

Peter glanced at Steve and then Bucky. “Not going to hit her that hard.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky drawled. “She’s letting you, Pal, go for it.”

Natasha retreated a couple of steps so they were clear of the furniture and Peter said, “Just remember you’re my favorite spider.”

She chuckled. “We’ll call it payback for the bites.” She winked. Though she had a relaxed stance, he wasn’t fooled anymore. Natasha was always ready and he also knew why Tony asked him to do this part. Aware of what would happen when he connected with enough force, he was ready to avoid damaging anything.

“Here we go,” he announced and Natasha focused on him, the change was so swift, he reconsidered the hit. But she nodded once and he swung.

He wasn’t going to hit her at full speed or strength, but even this glancing blow had dented a light pole. It had to be excessive force.

There was a perceptible shift in her posture as she took the blow and then Peter was flying backward as the energy redirected and he flipped backward and skidded on the rug a couple of feet.

“Yes!” Tony pumped a fist.

Steve and Bucky rose. “What the hell was that?” Bucky studied her suit.

“Kinetic repulsion designed to push away force above a certain threshold.”

Even Natasha was looking at the suit. Then she looked at Tony.

“You get a love tap from The Other Guy ever again, he’s going to be bouncing off and giving you time to get away—and it should absorb enough to keep it from slamming you into a wall. But let’s not test it with that much force.”

“Seriously?” She glanced down at her arm. “It felt like I bounced off of him.”

He shrugged. “Every time I’ve seen you go down it’s been from a force greater than you can exert and even then it’s sketchy.” He glanced at Bucky. “I studied the cafeteria fight, New York, the highway and the street in D.C. and the hellicarrier. There’s some other footage we used to calculate maximum hits. You should be able to take more than one blow, it won’t take it all, but it should lessen it enough to give you a fighting chance.”

The suit didn’t fully cover her hands, it left her fingers free and that had been a choice on Tony’s part. He said he could modify it if she wanted, but she usually had her fingers free for more delicate work.

“Next,” Tony announced rubbing his hands together. All traces of his reserve gone as he grinned wider and he tugged off his apron, then tapped his ARC reactor. Armor spilled over him. Except for his helmet and he still wore his Santa hat. Peter couldn’t bite back the snicker.

He dug in his pocket for his phone and held it up, cause he had to get a picture of this.

“Attack me, Red,” Tony said as he moved toward her.

She raised a brow. “You want to do this up here?” She motioned to the furniture and the tree.

“We’re not going to fight-fight, I promise. Just attack me.”

“Like I would any other time I’ve attacked you in the suit?” If Peter didn’t know better, he’d imagine there was an element of relish in her voice. Bucky and Steve grabbed the sofa and walked it backward, creating more space and Peter eyed the chair closer to Tony and grabbed that and walked it out of the way. Bucky gave the table a careful shove, so they had a circle of clear space.

“No,” Tony said with a grin. “Let’s pretend you aren’t trying to take me out.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Chicken.”

“Absolutely, just hit me, Red. You know you want to.”

Hands curled, she eyed him. “Where? Don’t say the chest.” The whip of an order lingered in those words.

Peter perched on the back of the chair.

Tony rolled his eyes and tugged off his hat. He tossed it toward Peter then his helmet snapped into place. “Better?”

“Hmm,” she said, tipping her head to the side. “Maybe…kind of miss the face though.”

She went from stillness to motion and struck her fist at his right shoulder. The force actually pushed him back a couple of feet. Tony started forward.

“Again, this time,” he said lifting his hands and miming fists. “Snap your wrists out first. You need something to hit—”

She snapped her wrists out and the batons formed as the red lit up her suit like streaks through the armor and then the lights went blue as the batons took shape and settled into her palms. Peter held his breath.

“_Now_,” Tony said, a wicked grin in place. “Hit me like you mean it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “If you insist, but I want your safe word.

“Peaches.”

It took Peter a moment and he grimaced. “_Really?_”

“Hush,” she and Tony said in the same voice then Natasha flew at him and Tony got both arms up. The batons struck and light crackled off them. The crackle of it danced over the outside of the suit, blue-white and then gone. He could ground out the electrical charges in them, but there was definitely a spark. In a real fight, she’d be nailing the baddies with her bites in baton-shaped.

“Modified bite tech,” Tony explained, as his helmet slid away. “And I’m fine. Suit grounds out most of it. Kid’s idea for the batons, he’s been building them all week.”

Peter bit his lip as she withdrew a step and stared from Tony to him then down at the batons. She paled a little and Tony frowned.

“Breathe, Red,” he said quietly.

“It’s safe, Natalia,” Bucky’s voice was gentle.

Crap, what had he…? Peter scrambled up but Steve motioned him back as Natasha took a couple of deep breaths and then she let out a small smile as she looked at the batons then over at Peter. “Your idea?”

He nodded slowly. “I saw something in one of the tapes about those batons you were using in Sokovia and I wanted to modify them. You don’t even need the suit to call them. The snap out will pull them even if you’re in street clothes. Tony helped me incorporate them into the bracelets.”

“They do everything the other one does with a few fun little tricks. Doesn’t matter what you’re wearing,” Tony said simply. “You’ll have full body armor at your fingertips. It’s light enough not to impair your movement and tough enough to keep you safe.”

She snapped her wrists out and the batons collapsed back into the suit then she tapped her wrists right over left and the armor retreated. She stared down at her hands and then over at him. She crooked a finger at him and Peter popped up and walked over. She wrapped him into a hug and Peter relaxed as he lifted her off her feet.

“Thank you, Peter. They’re awesome,” she whispered and then kissed his cheek as she leaned back and he grinned.

“Really? You looked upset.”

“Bad moment. All gone now. Those batons are great.” She drew back a step and snapped her wrists out and the batons reshaped and flowed into her hands. They were red then lit blue. “They charge without the suit…”

“That was the idea.” He didn’t want to say it was because of the model fight he’d seen on that bridge. She’d been unarmed essentially, except for an icer, and she’d taken down so many with their own weapons.

If she’d had these then—maybe she’d have had a better chance than she already did. Even one percent improvement was improvement. He was firmly in Tony’s camp. He wanted her safe. After she snapped wrists again, the batons vanished back into the bracelets, he grinned. “I really didn’t know if that would work, they kept collapsing and then Tony stabilized the internal field and created cohesion and boom, batons that charged.”

She chuckled and he ducked his head as she glanced at Tony. “Thank you,” she murmured and he tapped his chest and his armor retreated.

“Anytime Red, told you, I make the team look good. You were due an upgrade. The bracelets do everything the other one did, tracking, let’s Friday monitor your vitals, offers you a communicator, emergency force field and now the armor and weapons. They will also…” He held out his hand and she set her hand in his and he turned it over and tapped the center of the bracelet once and a small holoscreen formed. “Let Friday show you what you need or ask her for. You’re going to have all the toys. Though we may need to tweak it for movement. You can train in it a bit and we can run stress tests, sound good?”

“It sounds wonderful,” she said then shook her head. “C’mere.” Then she gave Tony a hug and whatever she said to him made his smile grow. Peter grinned.

“Boss, I should warn you it’s now 7:59 and you’re down to an hour and one minute to finish opening presents.”

Tony eased the hug but kept an arm around her as he laughed. “Well, we can always finish up later if we don’t now. But those are my three big gifts. What about me?” he teased.

**Steve**

The weight of the watch on his wrist served as a reminder for how far they’d come and Steve couldn’t get over the time and attention Tony had poured into the gifts he’d created for them. Natasha’s? Tony had told Steve he was making her a new outfit, dress at least, to replace the one that had been trashed; and a new bracelet, which turned out to be a pair of them.

His gut had clenched when she’d lifted them out and he hadn’t missed Bucky’s concentrated stare. The thin bracelets were too light for handcuffs but they could be perceived as such. Still, she’d slipped them right on and much to his relief, she hadn’t reacted to them other than to be intrigued. There had been zero hesitation in putting them on, too.

Did Tony get how much she trusted him?

The one brief moment at the sparks had her pupils expanding, but she locked it down and then her expression relaxed. It had been a tense few seconds and probably why Tony kept an arm around her now.

They all grabbed the furniture and moved it back to where it went. Bucky sat on the sofa and Steve leaned against the back of it.

“Can I go first?” Peter asked as he bounced from foot to foot.

“You already got me, Pete,” Tony told him.

“Yeah, but I got you something else…”

Natasha grinned and elbowed Tony gently and he made an oof face then eyed the teen. “Well, I’m not saying no,” he told him.

Bucky glanced at Steve and they locked gazes for a minute. Buck kept glancing down at his hands like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Steve grinned slowly. Friday was monitoring, which meant that particular moment had been captured and Steve wanted to see if he could render it later. Tony had gone—beyond any possible expectation. Gag gifts would have been fine, but these…

“Cool!” Peter pivoted to the tree and then rooted under it to pull out a box. He held it out and Tony had to let go of Natasha to accept it. “It’s not anything fancy or anything but…”

“Pete, that mug was probably one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. Not sure you can top it, so let’s not worry about that, okay?” When Peter grinned, the hopeful look on his face was humbling. The kid was good for all of them. Tony shook the box and shot a glance at Natasha. “Pretty sure this isn’t a pony either.”

She snorted.

Unwrapping it, he popped the lid off and laughed. Inside were a couple of items. The shirt he shook out read _If I can’t fix it, you’re all screwed._

Tony made a show of studying it then he nodded firmly. “Accurate. I like truth in advertising.”

Peter’s grin widened as Tony fished the second item out of the box. Bemused, he studied what was essentially a wrist band laden with all kinds of parts—screws, nuts, bolts, and even microfibers.

“It goes on your wrist,” Peter said eagerly, unsnapping the Velcro then putting it over Tony’s left wrist and it covered him to the middle of his forearm. “Now you have all the bits and bobs right at hand when you’re working on a build.”

“Old school and crafty,” Tony murmured as he turned it from side to side, then he squinted at Peter. “This doesn’t get you out of lab hours but it’ll do in a pinch when you can’t be here.”

“You really like it?”

“I really like it,” Tony assured him, then gave him a one-armed hug. “Good call, Kid.”

Smile growing, Peter practically beamed then he dove back to the tree and pulled out two more boxes. One went to Buck and the other to Steve.

“You helped with the arm…” Bucky stared first at the kid then at the box.

“Yep and I got that for you.” Peter folded his arms, the nerves vibrating off of him. “It’s cool, I hope.”

“It’s cool, Pal.” Bucky shredded off the paper and then flipped it open. He chuckled and shot a look at Natasha that Steve couldn’t quite interpret but the shirt needed no explanation.

It was a circle within a circle with the wording _Keeping it real. Keeping it old school. _Then the Brooklyn Dodgers symbol in the middle below it was a Mets cap.

“I couldn’t find a Dodgers one that matched, I tried,” Peter admitted. “Got close, but… I figured since you’re really opposed to the Yankees, the Mets would do?”

Tony had given Steve season tickets for the Mets at the holiday party. Three of them. Peter needed to go with them at least once.

“These are great, Pal. The shirt is great. Definitely going to wear it to the first game. Thank you.” It was a little awkward, but Bucky held out his hand and when Peter took it, he pulled him forward for a quick hug. Natasha’s expression as she picked up Tony’s coffee mug as well as her own verged near tears again. They’d shimmered earlier—when Tony had shaken his hand and again later, when Bucky and Tony had shaken hands. He glanced at her as she passed, eyebrows raised and she bumped his hip with hers.

Got it, she needed a moment to wrestle all that emotion back into its appropriate compartment. But the fact she let it slip at all—something deep down in Steve relaxed. The painting of Mary had been a risk, but he’d taken a few with some of his gifts this year. The look on their faces had been worth it. Even as he’d painted Mary, he’d seen Bucky and Natasha in her delicate features and fierce eyes. It let him feel a little closer to her and at the same time, give them back some small piece that he could.

“You’re up, Punk,” Bucky jerked his attention.

Natasha returned carrying two full cups of coffee and the carafe for him and Bucky. Usurping it, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, Angel.”

She grinned. “Happy to caffeinate.” With a wink, she handed Tony his mug and then perched on the coffee table where she could watch him open the box. After handing off the coffee to Buck who refilled their mugs, he slit open the paper, careful to not tear it. Some habits were just too ingrained even if Bucky took some glee in tossing them aside.

Inside there was a shirt that read _Brooklyn, born and bred._

_“You got heart kid. Where you from?”_

_“Queens.”_

_Steve half-nodded as he tapped his own chest. “Brooklyn.”_

Peter grinned as Steve held it up. “Damn straight.”

“I might steal that,” Natasha said idly.

“Be shocked if you didn’t, Doll. Course I might get it first,” Bucky drawled and Steve laughed. Under the shirt was a book called _Lost Brooklyn_.

“It’s a detailed history of Brooklyn in pictures, documenting the borough from its founding until now, with care paid to the buildings that are now gone. I figured—you know—might help to see what it was again and where some of it went.”

Steve flipped it open and nodded slowly as he studied the black and white images. They were amazing. Bucky leaned up and craned his head to see. “Oh hell, I remember that place.”

“Yeah…” Glancing up, Steve met Peter’s gaze. “This is fantastic, thank you, Peter.”

His grin grew and he looked at Natasha who gave him a quiet thumbs up and Steve chuckled. It made sense he’d ask her, but still… this was thoughtful as hell.

“Really glad you like it,” Peter clapped his hands then rubbed them together so like Tony, Steve had to bite back a snort. The teen plucked a present from under the tree and handed it to Natasha. “This is for you, too. It’s—it’s nothing big, but I thought you might like it. The batons really took a lot.”

“Peter, the batons are amazing.” There was no disbelieving her when she used that tone. She opened the packaging and flipped open the small jewelry box. Tony wore a knowing smirk, so he had to be aware of the contents. But Steve had to wait a beat for her to show them. It was a necklace with a web and a pair of spiders one larger than the other on it. She eased it out of the box and held up the chain to Peter. “Put it on me?”

“That fits, Doll,” Bucky said and Steve had to agree.

She lifted her hair out of the way so Peter could fasten it on. It kind of reminded Steve of the arrow necklace she wore periodically. It was one of the few possessions she valued. She hadn’t worn it as much since he gave her the dog tags, but he bet she would start swapping it with the spiders more regularly now.

Just a hunch.

“You really like it?” Peter grinned.

“Yes,” she told him firmly, catching his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I do, thank you.”

The relaxed atmosphere with its charge of happiness was intoxicating. Peter’s unabashed open relief turning to delight as they each enjoyed his presents took Steve back. When he and Bucky had been kids there was nothing like finding that one present that could make them smile.

“My turn then,” Steve said firmly and took another swallow of the coffee. “There’s a few more downstairs on our floor, but we can grab those in a bit.”

He’d left four of them up there when they’d hauled presents back down after the interview. Though he’d purchased a few items, he’d had a lot of empty hours to fill and he’d spent it working on his sketchbook. Pulling out the boxes, he passed them out to Tony, Peter, Bucky and the last he held onto and met Natasha’s amused gaze as he settled on the coffee table next to her.

“I promise to not try and guess it,” she murmured and he chuckled.

“Drink your coffee.”

“Hmm, da, solntce moya.” The low tone of her voice went straight through him with an almost uncomfortable speed and he canted his head to meet her eyes. The sparkle of mischief in them was absolutely undeniable. She’d seesawed emotionally over the last few hours so he absolutely did not want to push it.

With a small shake of his head, he said, “You’re terrible.”

“The worst,” she agreed then wrinkled her nose teasingly before sipping her coffee and turning her attention to Peter. The affection in her expression wasn’t hidden. Another sign she trusted everyone here, she didn’t try to mask her feelings because she counted on them to not use them against her.

It was the little things, but if he focused too long on any of them, it would infuriate him all over again for the life she’d been forced to lead. Peter got the paper off and then opened the box. It was a photo album. A little old fashioned maybe, but then Peter flipped it open.

“Woah…” He kept turning the pages and Steve let out a little breath.

“What is it?” Tony leaned to the side to try and see it and Peter moved to perch on the arm of the chair and held the album in his lap so they could all see.

“News stories—clippings about Spider-Man and his activities, interviews with people I… saved.” He paused on one and then looked at Steve.

“This is a hard life, Pal. Sometimes it’s good to remember why we do it when the noise gets too loud and to remember you’re good people.”

There were more pages, but it was only a quarter full. Room for him to add to it. When he got to the last one, he found a picture of Natasha and Peter from their first training session. Friday had gotten him the shot since they’d all been gone and it was Peter lying on his back, his expression stunned and Natasha staring down at him, hands on her hips with her brows raised. He could almost hear her.

_“What did you do wrong?”_

And after all his training with Buck, he knew exactly where it came from.

“This is—this is awesome, Steve. Thank you.” Then he shot a look of almost unbridled delight at Natasha. “I can _show_ this to Aunt May.”

She nodded slowly and lifted her mug in salute. “And Steve left you lots of room to add future stories, too. Other pics and memories. It’s a really good idea.” Natasha bumped Steve’s shoulder and he smiled. She was where he got the idea. He’d put together that little museum story on her for her because she was harder on herself than anyone else and she needed to remember she was worth far more than her mistakes or the life she’d been forced to endure.

Winking, he leaned over and pressed a kiss the corner of her mouth and she grinned wider.

“We could do digital versions of that,” Tony mused. “But hard copies have that feeling of being tangible. Good call, Cap.” He held up his box and shook it. There was the faintest of rattling and Steve was glad he’d wrapped the pieces in there, too. With a smirk, Tony looked at Natasha. “Still not a pony.”

She flipped him off with the hand cradling her mug as she took a sip. Steve had the sudden image of a miniature pony arriving via elevator to their floor with a red bow and a note on it that said _Found your pony._

He’d do it, too.

Chuckling, Tony peeled back the paper and then snorted as he opened the box. “It’s a present within a present—well a couple three it looks like.” He made a show of lifting out the first one and tearing the paper off of it and then paused… he stared at it for a beat then looked at Steve.

“About time you added some photos to this place. Took some research, but Friday helped me track down a few.”

Tony chuckled. He turned it around to show Natasha and Bucky. It was a picture of he and Rhodey getting their medals.

“Oh that’s Stern isn’t it,” Natasha said, wrinkling her nose.

Tony grinned. “Do you know what it did to him to have to give me that medal?”

The next was a photo of the team right after they’d come to collect Loki right in this room. The big guy, Clint, Thor, Tony, Steve, and Natasha—they were all sweaty, bleeding and filthy. They’d just repelled an alien invasion and Natasha wielded Loki’s scepter as though she were ready to stab him with it.

That was the day they’d really become the Avengers. Friday had to dig in the old servers, but she located it for him.

The next was a photo of Natasha and Tony from Monaco, the small smirk on her face and his raised eyebrows as he stared at her spoke volumes. “Spy whammy,” Tony chortled as he shook it at her and she laughed.

The next one was he and Bruce in the lab, another with him, Steve, and Thor shortly before Thor left to go back to Asgard. They’d been giving Thor hell about his hammer. Still another one from the party with Tony and Rhodey trying to lift the hammer gauntlets on and all.

There were easily a dozen photos in the box, Steve had a hard time culling them down, but it was for the last one with the largest frame he took a long swallow of the coffee while he waited for him to open it. Tony glanced around the penthouse. “These are great, I’m definitely putting them up.”

Bucky lifted his chin toward Steve. He knew what the last one was, they’d talked about it and Bucky had agreed with him. When Tony lifted it out, he peeled back the brown grocery paper and then froze.

Natasha glanced at him, but Steve rested his hand against her thigh gently asking for patience.

When Tony met his gaze, Steve read the question there. “It’s the first time either of you looked peaceful in a long time.”

“It’s cute,” Peter murmured and then held his hands up when Tony scowled at him. “Just saying.”

Sitting forward, Tony adjusted his glasses then turned the larger frame so Natasha could see the charcoal sketch of her and Tony sound asleep on the sofa. She’d been all bundled up in the blanket and he didn’t look like that position should be remotely comfortable and yet they were both out, their faces relaxed.

“Thank you, Steve,” Tony said slowly as Natasha looked from the sketch to him. “Seriously, this is… not what I imagined. At all.”

“Sometimes,” Steve said. “It’s good to be unpredictable.”

There was a low chuckle and Tony nodded as he turned the sketch around and stared at it again. “Yes, yes it is.”

Letting out a long breath, Steve glanced at Natasha as she covered his hand with hers and her smile and Tony’s genuine surprise promised him that the sketch had been a damn good call.

**Tony**

The drawing caught him completely off-guard. The photos had been a nice touch; he’d appreciated what Steve had been doing on his floor for Natasha. The fact he’d hunted down one from when Tony first met Natasha via her Natalie Rushman cover had been touching enough.

But the charcoal drawing was a lot more personal. It took him a minute to get it together and focus on Bucky opening his own box. The fact Tony had managed to get all of their pieces done before morning had taken a minor miracle. Red’s bracelets had finished their last build thirty minutes before he had Friday wake them up.

The arm had been a challenge, the field generator and the hologram technology had to be smooth and imperceptible. Taking a drink of coffee, he glanced at Bucky’s hand as he pulled the framed image out of the box. Disbelief filtered through his expression.

Tony glanced from Bucky to where Natasha sat, one leg crossed over the other, her elbow on her knee and her chin propped in her hand. She looked festive in her sweater and fuzzy socks. They’d nearly had a bad moment when testing her gear. He should have thought about the sparking as the batons activated their electric charge.

Against his suit, it would have been like little eddies of lightning going off. Of course, that would take her back. But she’d caught herself, pulled back and where she’d paled before, color flushed her cheeks. There’s been a hint of trembling when he’d hugged her, but she’d calmed by the time he let her go to take the present from Peter. The hand she held her coffee mug with was steady.

“Damn, Stevie,” Bucky said finally turning the framed image to show them. It was a grouping of people from the 30s or 40s. Tony didn’t have to ask. That had to be Barnes’ family. “This was the day before I shipped out…”

Steve nodded. “The dinner they had for you, when we went outside the neighborhood was there to cheer you on.”

This was a private moment between these two men. The fact Steve made these with his own hands whether it was the scrapbook for the kid—damn good idea—or the pictures of the Avengers and pivotal moments in their past to the charcoal drawing of he and Natasha.

That was going up in his lab. There was a peacefulness in the drawing, more, it was the first time he’d gotten to really hold her—not just try to calm her down or throwing her a lifeline like they had at the Compound. She’d opened up a little, she’d talked to him and then she’d let him hold her. The fact she’d been able to sleep had been a gift.

He wiped a hand over his face and focused on the fact Steve was handing Natasha a present. A glance at his watch said not even fifteen minutes had passed, but it felt like an eternity. There were still a few presents under the tree and they had stuff on their floor.

Maybe next year they should plan to consolidate.

Steve had Natasha’s coffee cup as she peeled back the paper and then she stared at this sketch and he let out a little laugh. Natasha glanced up at him and Tony shook his head. “That insane move.”

“Hey, it worked.” She wrinkled her nose at him.

Bucky leaned forward and stared. “You’re leaping off his shield, aren’t you?”

She grinned and Steve chuckled. “Yes, she did. Never seen anything like it.”

“I needed a ride,” she said with a shrug, but the smile at the corners of her mouth betrayed her appreciation for it. The charcoal sketch depicted her in mid-motion, crouched on the shield and ready to launch. But it was her expression that arrested him. Pure determination and focus.

Natasha as a weapon.

Tony shook his head, dispelling that thought. Took him back to too many maudlin evenings after Germany and Siberia. After she was gone and he’d been the reason she left.

Reviewing all that old footage and still being unable to comprehend how she’d pulled that move off.

Just damn.

“All right people, we’re going to get tight on time here soon. Let’s go, whatever we don’t open we’ll have to do when we get back.” He glanced at Steve, Natasha, and Bucky since a lot of the other presents were down on Steve’s floor. “That work for you?”

“That’s fine,” Bucky said. “Most of the gifts I got for you and Spider-Punk are down there. I didn’t think to leave them up here.”

“That’s fine.”

“Red?”

She made a face. “Not all of mine are under the tree…” She glanced at Steve and Bucky, then said. “But some of them can wait. Let’s do it.”

Peter leapt up and sorted out the remaining boxes. He had easily a half-dozen in front of him that surprised him. One of them contained a massive amount of junk, but Pete’s whole face lit up and Natasha laughed. “There’s more, but it’s in storage and we can move it into your lab when Tony’s done. But you said you like to tear things apart and rebuild or repurpose them.”

“That’s so cool!”

Tony gave her a faintly incredulous look. But she stuck her tongue out at him and she laughed. Yes, Tony could give him access to a lot of things and prime materials. Learning the mechanics from the nuts up as it were, however, was a far better education. So, he could appreciate the effort.

“You think about sharing some of that,” Tony said. “I’ll swap you something for that radio.” He’d had one like that in his first lab. He could always use a little analog in his digital world.

Peter grinned. “Sure.”

Satisfied, Tony leaned back. There was also a camera, a really nice one. Not digital though and Tony chuckled. “Taking Pete on a history lesson?”

“Digital does a lot of correcting for you—taking the images on film, learning to develop them and the light—that’s art. It also requires skill in observation and analysis.”

And an expensive budget for a darkroom and film itself. Tony scratched his jaw. They could do that. Wouldn’t take that long to set up.

That present delighted Peter and she walked him through how to thread the film and set it up. Then Peter started snapping photos of them. Tony behaved; he only gave Steve rabbit ears once.

There were art supplies for Steve, a controller for a new video game and a card that said there were three arcade games set up on the common room floor for Bucky. Tony counted that as a win for all of them. There was a clown nose for Tony with a note from Bucky that said _For those idiots when you have to deal with them. They should definitely look their parts._

Tony laughed way too hard at that. T-shirts with excellent sayings—including a Black Widow league shirt for Pete and he insisted on changing into that to wear under his sweater. Natasha just rolled her eyes.

Natasha had gotten Tony a couple of silk ties, nice quality. One was patterned with the ARC reactor—Stark Industries better have a stake or he’d have to sue, and a second one that boasted little red hourglasses amidst the black and gray diamonds. For Bucky, there was a nice new leather jacket, same for Steve. Tony particularly enjoyed the creative curse maker Bucky got for Steve. It paired well with the t-shirt that said _I will watch your language_.

As they wound down, they separated out their stuff and began gathering up the discarded paper. Tony took charge of the mugs and shuttled them into the kitchen. Pete stacked some of his stuff together and then lifted it to take down to his and Natasha’s floor.

The look on his face when Natasha said take it _our_ floor had hit Tony in the emotional guts for the third time in twenty-four hours. First Pete pulled the parent card with the mugs the night before, then Steve got him with the drawing, and now Natasha made it clear, Peter wasn’t going anywhere. Their floor it was. He’d already run the plans by her when they’d been building their B.A.B.I.E.S., which they would be presenting to Laura in a little while.

Christmas had never been his favorite holiday. It had been, for a little while, when he was a kid. But then it became a strained time he was stuck with his parents. Later… later it was the anniversary of their death. He preferred to be anywhere _but_ home for the holidays. Then everything went sideways with Killian over Christmas and kind of reinforced the idea. Christmas with the Avengers had been all right, but this…

“Hey guys,” Tony said as Peter headed for the elevator. “Them, not you Pete. I just need a minute. Go on and grab your stuff. If you have any gifts we need to take out there.” Tony had some; Natasha and Steve probably did, as well. He’d guess Bucky did. There had been purchases done at various points and not everything had come back to the Tower.

Natasha turned toward him and raised her eyebrows. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, glancing at each of them. “Just—this is good, right? This is a _good_ holiday?” He didn’t want to stare at it too long and mess it up. There’d been moments where they’d been fine and things twisted on a dime before. For Natasha’s and Peter’s sakes—and for him and the guys—he didn’t want that.

“More than good, Tony,” Bucky told him, then he held up his arm. “I can’t thank you enough for this. You’ve been wanting me to finish those engineering refreshers. You got me. Need to get caught up so I can get to work.”

Steve chuckled, but his expression was every bit proud, as it was happy. Then he met Tony’s gaze and nodded. “_We’re_ good,” he put the emphasis on the pronoun. “This is definitely a _good _holiday.”

That helped, then he locked gazes with Natasha. It was the first year he could remember that he hadn’t gotten blind drunk on the anniversary of his parents’ death. He hadn’t even remembered it, not until after the fact. There was something bittersweet in the idea that he could finally put it to rest and it only took him twenty-five years.

“Best Christmas I can remember,” she assured him. Though that qualifier reminded him of what lay ahead in the coming days.

“Hey,” Natasha said, reaching a hand out and catching his. “Just focus on today. Today it’s presents and food and laughter…”

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a wry smile. “Natalia has Christmas rules.”

“Excuse me?” Tony raised his eyebrows. “Rules?”

“They’re Clint’s rules,” she said, giving his fingers a little squeeze. He held her hand a little tighter than necessary, but forced his fingers to relax and let her go. “I’ll fill you in on the jet.”

He nodded. “Focus on today. I can do that. Coffee for the road?”

She gave him a tired smile and for a moment, he could almost see the faint shadows under her eyes. Apparently, they hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep the night before, he smirked a little. Good for them.

“Definitely,” she said. “We’ll be back up in a minute… Friday, can you let Clint and the others know we’re heading their way soon?”

“I’ll take care of it, Nat.”

Then they were gone and Tony stood there, glancing around the festive living room and raked his hand through his hair.

“You all right, Boss?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I think so. It was a good morning.” One of the best in a long while. He walked over and picked up the charcoal drawing and stared down at it. “Baby Girl remind them all to grab their Santa hats.” Then he glanced at the snow and the wind. “Pull all the weather data and wind shear. I want Red to have everything she needs. We’re parking in the hangar when we get there.”

No way they were making the hike through the snow. It was a longer walk through the buildings, but it would be a hell of a lot warmer.

Picture in hand, he glanced at the table. She’d taken the first bracelet—well technically the second—with her and he grinned. He was going to snag it and put it with the drawing but if she wanted to keep it, he had no problems with that.

“You should probably get a move on, Boss, Mr. Parker’s already on his way back up.”

“Yep,” he said, walking into the kitchen. It took him a couple of minutes to get the fresh coffee going and Peter was just getting back as Tony carried his stuff up to his room and the lab.

He glanced around, then cleared off the shelf his chair faced most of the time when he wasn’t on the move and set the drawing right there. He settled the photo from Monaco next to it.

“Better.”

He’d just climbed up the stairs to his closet when Natasha called, “Hurry up Shellhead, second brew is almost done.”

“Don’t worry, Red, just got to do my beauty regimen. Not all of us wake up looking like a goddess.”

There was a beat of silence and her snort carried. “Tony, if you woke up looking like a goddess, you’d be missing something pretty fierce.”

Another beat of silence followed and then Tony snorted even as the laughter rippled through the guys.

“Well,” he called, still chuckling. “You’re not wrong.”

As it was, he wasn’t missing anything. It was a good Christmas. How about that?


	40. Blessings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the holiday continues with all kinds of gifts.

**Chapter Forty**

_Blessings_

**Natasha**

The trip to the landing pad was a miserable couple of minutes. It was a great test of her new armor and a parka. The wind gusts were significant and Peter attached webbing to her belt as she hit the door and she paused to look at him then just let it go. Steve and James went first with her and Peter in the middle and Tony following, armored up. They had loaded heavy sacks with the presents. After the wind chased them up the ramp of the quinjet, she paused to glance back as it closed. They all had Santa hats in their pockets but the oversized sacks reminded her of Santa’s big red sack from all the movies.

“Something funny, Red?” Tony’s helmet snapped back and he stomped the snow off his boots before retracting the armor.

“Yep.” Still grinning, she stripped off the parka and retracted the armor before she climbed into the pilot’s seat. Peter headed up, but Tony sent him to the benches.

“Not this time, Pete.” Tony slid into the co-pilot’s seat and she glanced over.

“You good with this?”

“Just gonna back you up. You got this.”

She nodded. “Everyone straps in. This is going to be bumpy.”

The jet’s engines were warmed and Friday had the telemetry and wind speeds loaded. 60 mph gusts.

“Very bumpy.” She told them and pulled the shoulder straps across herself.

“Everything secure,” Steve told her.

“Stay off the stick, Tony,” she said, gripping the controls.

He nodded once.

“Should I be worried?” Peter asked.

“Nope,” she and Tony answered in unison.

Steve murmured, “That means yes, but they have it.”

“I heard that,” Tony called back.

“Good,” Steve answered, a smile in his voice. “Then you know I have confidence in you both.”

Tony slanted a look at her and she grinned as she slid the headset on.

Checking the channel, she switched it. “Friday, ready to be our third set of eyes?”

“Yes, Nat,” Friday answered. “I have your backs.”

“All right then… deep breaths everyone.” Hands steady, she fired the engines and the quinjet rocketed upward. She needed at least a hundred feet to control the pitch when the gust hit. She rolled the quinjet with it, the dip trying to floor them back into the building even as she accelerated and rolled a full 360 and then angled straight out over the bay. That took them into the headwind but free of any buildings.

The whole quinjet shook, but she held her up and level then turned and when the wind hit their tails it flung them forward.

“And that kids,” Tony said with a half-laugh, “is why we don’t eat a full meal before riding the Tilt-a-Red.”

She snorted.

“Holy crap,” Peter exhaled. “Did we just flip right off the Tower when we took off?”

“No, we shot up about a hundred and twenty feet before it flipped us. Then we rolled.” Natasha didn’t take her attention off the controls or the near whiteout ahead of them.

“Local air traffic is grounded currently, Nat,” Friday said in her ear. “You’re clear to climb.”

And that was a good idea. She took them higher. The winds would buffet them but she’d rather not hit a downdraft and slam into some trees.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Be there in fifteen minutes, maybe shorter if this tailwind sticks with us.”

“You are on clear course, Nat,” Friday reported. “Wind gusts are tapering near the Compound to 45 MPH, you will need to compensate to land in the hangar.”

“Slingshot?”

“Yeah, I’d rather not,” Tony told her.

“Everyone’s a critic,” Natasha said.

“One piece would be good, Angel,” Steve called.

“Just one piece?” she asked over her shoulder.

“One whole, _uncrumpled_ piece,” James reaffirmed. “This is not a sandwich.”

There was a beat of silence and then they were all laughing.

They made the trip in less than fifteen minutes. Beating their typical twenty-minute flight time rather neatly.

“Hangar opening in 3, 2, 1,” Friday counted her down as Natasha rapidly decelerated and slid over the snow to help her glide right into the hangar just as the doors parted wide enough to give her clearance.

They were already closing as she set her down gently, the abrupt cessation of wind nearly as shocking as the gusts themselves. Clint stood on the far side of the hangar, hands on his hips and she could just hear the cussing.

Grinning, she waved with two fingers as he shook his head and then flipped her off. Yes, she’d been showboating. No, she didn’t care.

Sometimes it was fun to prove what she could do.

Steve held out her parka and she chuckled as she slid it on. She skipped the armor. The interior of the hangar was cold, but it wasn’t windy or dropping snow on their heads so that was a win. Clint was waiting as the ramp lowered.

“Good morning,” she said as she descended the ramp.

“Merry Christmas,” he reminded her and she grinned.

Then held up a single finger and Clint threw his head back and laughed. He was likely to get far more than three smiles out of her today, but it was an old joke. “Oh, before I forget. James has repealed rule #10.”

“_James_ doesn’t get to repeal any rules. They’re my rules.”

“Then I protest your rule,” James told him as he descended.

“Protest lodged. Protest considered. Protest _denied_.” Clint smirked then held out a hand to her. “Good day?”

She hugged him and he chuckled as he folded her close. “Good day,” she promised.

“Excellent. You guys make your way out to the Common Room, I’m stealing my best friend.”

“Excuse me,” Steve said, his tone dry but his expression amused. “You can borrow, but we do expect a return.”

Clint rolled his eyes as Natasha chuckled. Arm hooked around her shoulders, he said, “My life was so much better before the boyfriends.”

“Better?” Natasha eyed him.

“Easier. Better. All the same thing.” But his smile was directed at the guys.

“Too bad,” James said as he clapped him on his free shoulder. “Like Natalia said, rule #10 no longer applies.”

They were still laughing as they headed out leaving her and Clint alone in the hangar. When he made no attempt to follow, she cocked her head to look at him.

“Everything okay?”

“Undecided.”

“Well, that’s not ominous.”

“No,” he said, making a face before guiding her toward the hall. “It’s not. They’re going to get tackled by the kids and I’m getting some Nat time before we brave the rush of sugar-fueled, paper-shredding joy that is Wanda, Coop, and Lila who are all wired.”

“Wanda?” Natasha found that hard to believe.

“Yes, would you believe they convinced her brownies are the perfect breakfast food for Christmas?”

Natasha laughed. “Did you not tell her the rules?”

“I thought she’d socialized more. She spent Christmas with you guys last year, right?”

She stared at him for a beat.

“And never mind, I just answered my own question. So this is your fault.”

“We had hot fudge sundaes on Christmas morning and in our defense, we hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours.” Clint groaned and she squeezed him. “So, how mad is Laura?”

“Oh, Laura isn’t mad at all. Her children aren’t sugared up. Mine on the other hand…”

She grinned. “It could be worse.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you could have been the one to give them brownies.”

He flicked her ear and then studied her. They took the long route, through the halls with windows so she could see the frosted wonderland beyond. “You sound better—you look better.” He brushed her hair to the side, probably spotting the hickey. “Feel better for real?”

“Better is relative,” Natasha admitted. “But…” She held her steady hand out. “Not doing so bad. Had a couple of moments, but Steve and James were there for the worst one and I’m good. They were all there for the second and it only lasted a couple of minutes.”

“Good.”

This building was primarily used for research and on any given normal day, they might have as many as forty different scientists and engineers at work. None of them were on the property since they’d all been given two weeks vacation for the holidays. Medical research was one building and another long hall over. They had to go through that to get to the Avengers side of the Compound.

“So what’s really going on?” Because there was no way Wanda fed the kids that many brownies. Even if they had one, they probably had breakfast right after.

Clint slid his hands into his pockets. “I did a thing.”

“You did a thing.” She stripped off the parka and threw it over her arm.

“Yeah, I did a thing.” He scratched at his ear and eyed her sweater. “Why are you and Tony dressed like twins?”

“A bet.” It was plausible. “We were competing for the best ugly sweater and we both wanted this one.”

“Uh huh.” He smirked. “You’re cute.”

“I know,” she told him, lifting her chin. “Am I guessing the thing you did? Supporting the thing? Or talking you out of the thing?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re going to support the thing.”

She paused abruptly. “You and Laura had sex?”

He took a couple more steps.

“Because I would whole-heartedly support that. It was good, right? You didn’t forget anything she liked?”

“Yes. Wait, no, I mean—no, I didn’t forget anything she liked.” He pivoted to face her. “What the hell, Nat? Like I’d _forget_?”

“You didn’t use tongue,” she pointed out, the corner of her mouth quirking. Giving him shit was the fastest way to get him talking. “It’s entirely possible you let other things slip. I’m on your side and I don’t judge.”

“Bite me,” he said, his tone excessively droll.

“If that’s her kink, but we both know it’s not. Unless something has _really_ changed. In which case, I need to have this conversation with Laura.” She made as if to take a step.

“Don’t make me break your legs.”

She grinned. “I’d heal and it’d be worth it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Natasha.”

Blowing out a breath, she made a face. “You used to be more fun.”

“I’m still fun,” he said wryly. “But right now… I’m a little scared.”

Sobering, she locked gazes with him. “What do you need?”

He held out his hands and she dropped the parka and took them. Forehead to hers, he said, “I don’t know. I just… I want this to work and at the same time, I worry that I am basically dragging her back to the same fight we always had. We’re in a good place right now, Nat.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We _talk_. We really talk. I haven’t told her everything—some of it, not all of it. We’re working our way through some of the uglier pieces.” He sighed. “I know telling her about you bothered _you_, but I needed to talk to her and I needed her to understand where my head was at. Especially after you sent me to Phil’s grave.”

The silence elongated. “I’m sorry. It was the…”

“No,” he said gently. “You don’t have to be sorry. It was absolutely the right thing to do. Phil would have your back and he’d have been fucking honored you trusted him with those secrets—speaking of which, you and me, lots of alcohol and we’re talking about that little treasure trove you hoarded.”

“About that…”

“Your closet. Vent hidey-hole, tucked into the false side four meters east.”

“Got it.”

He sighed. “The thing is—I love her.”

“I know you do.”

Chuckling, he straightened and gave her hands a squeeze. “Five years ago, do you know what you would have said to that?”

“Okay.”

She knew exactly what she would have said.

“And?” He eyed her.

“Emotions cloud things and sex complicates them. Of course your judgment is impaired. You’re attached. Luckily, so is she.”

“Never change, Tasha.”

“Too late,” she said with a smile. “I’m attached to so many people—I’m crazy about your wife… I’m building a home. I’m living in the public eye. It’s far too late.”

“True,” he admitted. “You got an extraction plan?”

“I’m far too compromised. The only way out is to vanish. To cut ties with everyone.” She wasn’t going to do that.

“Same here.”

“Clint, the only thing you _can_ do is talk to her and keep talking. She knows the score. You’re you. You’ve _always_ been you. The one guy I was always able to trust, because I knew you wouldn’t lie to me and would _always_ have my back.”

“I lied to her.”

“So did I.”

“You weren’t married to her.”

“Are you lying to her now?”

“No.”

“Good.”

They stood there, the quiet blanketing them, gazes locked. She didn’t look away or try to hide her feelings. Clint was looking for something. Or maybe he just needed her to be the steady one. Whatever it was…

“That hour after I woke up in medical detention. You should never have taken the cuffs off me.” He wanted to scold her for that _now_?

She shrugged.

“I wasn’t safe.”

“I’ve never been safe,” she reminded him. “What does this have to do with then?”

“I want… I want to take Laura out. I want to—date her like I haven’t since we were in high school.” He squeezed her hands.

“Sounds like a great idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

I kind of jumped the gun. Well, we both did. But…” Exhaling, he said, “Can I do it? Can I be her husband and still do this job?”

“Do you want to be?” It was a simple question.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

“Then you can do anything. You make that choice—you walk back in there and you go after your wife, you keep her your wife—then you _are_ her husband.”

“And if I can’t… be who she needs me to be?”

“Don’t assume,” Natasha said slowly. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. I was going to walk away from them—all of them. After Ross? After I got that done so you could all come back, I was going to leave. I don’t want to be the reason people fight. I didn’t want to come between anyone. Not when…not when I wasn’t going to choose.”

Honestly, she still didn’t. Some parts of this were so clear and others so complicated.

“You didn’t leave.”

“Nope.” She chose herself. “I didn’t.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

“Well, it’s complicating your life,” she told him with a grin.

Clint laughed then scooped up her parka to hand her before he wrapped an arm around her shoulders again. “This still good?”

“Yep.”

They set off walking again.

“I really want her back, Nat. I want to make it work. For her. For me.”

“Okay.”

“Any words of wisdom?” There was just the barest hint of irony.

“Tongue, trust me. You curl it just right and…”

His laughter flooded the hall.

She grinned. “You know I’m right.”

“That’s the funniest part,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple as he squeezed her. “She really does like when I do that.”

“Yep, tongues are the key to communication on so many levels. Censored and uncensored.”

His laughter deepened. “Is that how you keep them happy?”

“I’ve been told I have a very talented tongue, thank you very much.”

They were still laughing as they reached the doors to that would take them to the Avengers side.

Friday unlocked and swung them open. The scents of pine, cinnamon, chocolate, and if she wasn’t mistaken a distinct hint of sugar and pumpkin filtered through the air. Laughter and the steady buzz of conversations underscored the music flowing from the speakers.

Clint whistled and Lila popped up over the back of the sofa. “Auntie Nat!”

She launched and Natasha thrust her parka at Clint as Lila raced over and she caught her up and swung her around. Cooper was a half step behind her and he locked his arms around her waist loosening only when she crouched and then she had both of them.

“You took _forever_,” Lila complained.

“Well that happens when you have to make a trip to the North Pole,” Natasha told her seriously.

Two pairs of rounded eyes fixed on her.

“You went to the North Pole?” Cooper asked.

She pressed a finger to her lips as she nodded.

“But you’re not supposed to… what if Santa _caught_ you?”

Natasha grinned slowly and fished out the hat from her back pocket and tugged the Santa cap on and tapped the stitched _naughty_ on the front.

“Do you really think Santa is going to catch _m_e? Really?

Their giggles climbed and Clint snorted.

“Did you know Daddy?” Lila glanced up at him wide-eyed.

“That Auntie Nat is naughty?” He grinned. “For a long time, Bug.”

More laughter and Natasha squeezed them. As they danced backward. “Time for presents now?” Coop asked. “Everyone’s here and we had breakfast.”

“More than brownies,” Lila said, hands behind her back and eyes shining with pure innocence.

Yeah. Natasha wasn’t buying it either. But Peter said something and they were racing back toward the tree where Peter and Tony were rearranging the presents into a more aesthetic configuration—or maybe they were just checking them out. Rising, Natasha grinned as Wanda wandered toward her with a mug cradled in her hands. She nodded toward the tree.

“I thought it looked fine, but they said it needed to be balanced.”

“Let them, they’re having fun.”

That manic energy from earlier was in place. Wanda studied her as Clint headed back over to wade into the fray. “You’re feeling better?”

“I am,” Natasha said, keeping her voice low as she gave her a gentle hug. Wanda tightened as she latched onto her. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” the younger woman answered. Leaning back, she sighed. “A couple of nightmares, but not so bad. Last night was fun. Vision and I watched all these Christmas animated classics.”

“Clint’s list? Rudolph and Frosty?” It sounded familiar.

Wanda nodded slowly and they both glanced over at Clint who’d just rescued Nate from trying to climb on the tree. He passed him over to Steve and who immediately worked as a distraction. “He stressed they were important.”

Natasha laughed. “Did you get the feeling we’re supposed to be on the Island of Misfit Toys?”

Eyes wide, Wanda swung her back to the group and made a face. “That would make him the Dentist, right?”

Natasha had always kind of thought of him as Yukon while she’d been Abominable for a while. Still, it fit. The dentist stepped out of his comfort zone and knew what to do to help the mistreated toys.

“Something like that. The movies are cute.”

They were both still laughing when Laura made her way over. She glanced at Natasha’s hat, then her sweater and chuckled. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Laura, Merry Christmas.” Natasha smiled and hugged her. Laura tensed almost imperceptibly and then she seemed to sag with relief as she hugged her tightly.

“This is more like it,” Laura murmured, then lower. “Wine later?”

“Make it eggnog and you’ve got a deal,” she said, leaning away. Laura glanced from Natasha toward Clint and back.

Got it.

“We’ll make time,” Natasha promised.

“Thank you,” Laura mouthed, and then grinned. “I’m loving the sweaters by the way. The hat is the best.”

“Mom!” Coop yelled. “Auntie Nat! Presents!”

“Yeah, Mom and Auntie Nat!” Tony joined in. “Presents!”

Linking her arm with Laura’s, Natasha walked over to the living room. Dressed in slacks, a button down shirt and a cardigan, Vision sat in the chair nearest the windows. He seemed to be studying them as everyone made a space for themselves. Nate had claimed Steve’s lap where he was seated on the sofa and was currently clapping his hands. Peter was on the floor with Lila and Coop while Clint had claimed the second chair and Laura moved over and perched on the arm of it.

Natasha smiled as Wanda settled on the loveseat. With the barest amount of subtlety, Peter cut his gaze to the open spot next to Natasha. James was next to Steve while Tony was at the other end of the sofa. So her choices were rob Peter of his chance to sit with Wanda, the floor, or steal a lap.

With a grin, she tugged her boots off and left them behind the sofa and padded in her fuzzy socks over to sit on the floor in front of James. He shifted his leg and she leaned against it.

Thirty seconds later, Peter moved to the love seat. “I can help pass out from here. And get pictures!” He snagged his backpack and pulled out the camera.

“Smooth,” Tony murmured under his breath and she didn’t snicker. But he wasn’t wrong.

“Auntie Nat, can you make hot cocoa?” Lila asked. “_When_ we’re done with presents?”

“Of course,” Natasha promised.

“All right,” Laura said. “Coop, you know the rules. We start oldest to youngest.”

There was a significant pause and both kids glanced over at her, James, and Steve.

With her thumb, Natasha pointed at James and she caught Steve doing the same thing as did Tony.

Everyone laughed.

Coop scrambled to grab a box from under the tree and he carried it over to James.

“Uncle Steve next?” Lila verified with a box in her hand. When Natasha was next, Clint snickered as Natasha politely flipped him off when the kids had their backs turned.

Tony, then Clint and Laura, followed by Wanda and Peter, but when Coop turned to Vision, Natasha coughed.

He glanced at her and she shook her head.

His eyes widened and he touched a hand to himself. She nodded.

Then Lila—Nate tugged Natasha’s hair and she glanced up. “Soon, malen'kiy predatel!” He tugged again and Steve tried to disentangle Nate’s hand. “It’s all right,” Natasha shifted her present, but the coffee table was a little close. As if reading her mind, James put his foot against it and sent it forward a couple of inches.

She caught Nate as he scrambled down to perch in her lap. Coop stared back and forth between Nate and Vision and Natasha pointed at Vision.

“You’re the next _youngest?_”

“I’m afraid so,” Vision admitted. “I was born only last year after all.”

“A couple of weeks before your brother,” Clint said. Thankfully, the kids were definitely kids and they rolled with it.

The presents were labeled and random. The guide to surviving the zombie apocalypse from James to Clint was a hit as was Natasha’s jacket for Wanda who laughed when Natasha said she hoped Wanda understood when Natasha borrowed it. For Peter there was a _Complete Idiot’s Guide to Being a Hero_ that had to be from Clint.

Some of the art supplies she’d picked up for Steve made it under the tree, oils, watercolors, and a note with the number of canvases now stored at the Tower for him. His pleased smile warmed her. The big winners of the morning though were Lila’s new bow courtesy of her dad, the actual _armada_ of models Tony and Peter gave Coop, the charm bracelet the kids got Laura. Natasha didn’t think she’d ever seen Lila look so thrilled. Not to be outdone, Coop glowed when he found out Tony had added lab space for him when he received lab gear and a Tony’s Rulebook for Lab Work. Peter and James were unashamedly interested when they received their own rulebooks and Tony announced he’d added space for both of them.

Natasha helped Nate with unwrapping his presents. Wanda discovered the jewelry in one of the boxes and stared at the assortment of rings, bracelets, and necklaces in different colors. When she was sporting near half of them within a few minutes, Natasha was happy with the result.

Vision puzzled over some of his gifts including guides to human behavior, a collection of critical music and film for the last hundred years—to be fair, both Steve and James got the same thing—but he really liked the Broadway tickets she and Laura gave him.

Tony snorted at the coffee mug that read _Engineer- noun [en-juh-neer] Someone who does precision guesswork based on unreliable data provided by those of questionable knowledge. See also _**wizard, magician**.

He approved.

Coop presented him with a model Iron Man that actually lifted off, apparently he’d repurposed one of Tony’s repulsors from the Death Star, which Tony immediately promised to replace. He was so tickled by the model even as he tried to play it cool. Lila gave Natasha a photo of Lila in her daffodil costume and latch rug she’d made that looked like the Barton farm on it, both of which Natasha adored. The rug was going on the wall on her floor.

There was an English-Russian dictionary as well as a pair of audible books on learning the Cyrillic language and sound, an 8-step guide to mastering Russian for Steve. Clint promised him it worked. Natasha just chuckled.

One of the boxes had only an envelope in it for Wanda, but when she slit it open her expression shifted. It was a permanent green card permitting her residence in the United States. The box said from Santa, but Wanda looked right at Tony and he just shrugged it off. Because it was what he did. Later, when Tony opened a box with a seed set and jars of loamy earth, he’d frowned until he read the note and even amidst the smirk in his voice, Natasha didn’t miss the catch.

They were from the park in Sokovia Wanda had worked on, a gift to remember that everything recovered and Sokovia bloomed even in adversity. That Sokovia had the chance was thanks to him in many ways. He cleared his throat and said, “Thank you.”

The video games were a hit with the kids as were the new StarkPhones. Laura had raised her eyebrows when even she had one, but Clint touched her leg when she would have objected. Those phones also had an app to let Friday keep an eye on them all and B.A.B.I.E.S. was already loaded.

The kids delighted in their Black Widow League shirts as did Wanda and Vision. Natasha rolled her eyes but Tony looked far too pleased with himself when the kids asked if they could change into them.

As they began winding down on the presents, Natasha rose balancing Nate. “Steve, do you and James mind watching the kids for a minute. Tony and I need to talk to Laura and Clint.”

“Not a problem, Angel. Though the natives will get restless for hot cocoa soon.”

She grinned. “This won’t take long.”

“Take your time,” he said as she handed him Nate and stole a kiss from Steve, then James and laughed when Nate pulled at her and she gave him a kiss on the head.

Laura and Clint looked at them curiously as she led them with Tony down to his office. “Give us some privacy, Baby Girl.”

“You got it, Boss.”

Natasha nudged stuff over on Tony’s desk and perched on the edge of it while he came to lean next to her. Clint eyed her, a question in his eyes and Natasha flattened her hand, signing _it’s good news. Relax._

He exhaled and after he and Laura took a seat in the guest chairs, Tony tipped his head. “You want to take lead on this or me?”

“Would never dream of stepping on your thunder.” When he bumped her shoulder, she added, “No, really. Go ahead. You love this part.”

“I do love this part, but I’m willing to share the spotlight.”

“Generous, but let’s not pull anything today.”

“Rude,” Tony said with a smirk.

“While this verbal volleyball is cute, can we cut to the chase?” Clint asked drily and Natasha grinned.

“_We_ are cute and you should really appreciate us more,” Tony stated firmly.

Laura laughed. “Of course, we appreciate you.”

“See, they appreciate me. So you can do the song and dance. Tap away, Shellhead.”

With a snort, Tony said, “Fine, chime in as necessary. I’m not doing this on my own after all.”

She rolled her hand over the bracelet on her right wrist and waited for it. Because no way Tony would really pass up the opportunity, not when she rolled out the carpet for him.

“We have an offer for you—well, we kind of already did it, so we want to involve you in it.” Tony was taking his time. “First, Laura—congratulations, you’re the recipient of a fifty thousand dollar grant from the Maria Stark Foundation as a fellow to research the effect of dynamic communication in the digital era. I have all the paperwork for you to sign—also, note, it will be as Laura Bishop to keep some very firm public lines in place.”

Laura stared at them. “I don’t—get it.”

“You want to continue the social activism online, doing podcasts, and working with others,” Natasha said, meeting Laura’s gaze. “You want to help, you’ve made it very clear how important this is to you. We need to shield you. Laura Bishop can be actively involved and have a social media presence with which to launch her research, her opinions, and develop the conversation as part of her work in the effect of dynamic communication. The grant gives us money to upgrade all of your systems and provide you with the best platforms to do the work while also protecting you, Clint and the kids.”

“Because she cares, Red came to me and I’ve been helping her make B.A.B.I.E.S. for you. No worries, Steve and Bucky know all about it.” Yep, she’d been waiting for that. Tony’s absolute delight in that sentence jerked both Clint and Laura’s attention, but Clint immediately flicked a look to her. He at least knew Tony well enough to get that it wasn’t quite what it sounded like, but Laura’s frown was epic.

“That’s not funny,” she scolded.

“It’s not a joke,” Natasha assured her. “Well, not totally a joke… that line was funny but it stands for Bishop Automated Bodyguard Integrated Engagement Security. It’s an AI program supported by Friday, who will be able to monitor via the apps on all of your new phones and computers.”

“Exactly,” Tony spread his hands. “You go online, our B.A.B.I.E.S. go with you, they work with stealth,” he jerked a thumb at Natasha as he said it, “and high intelligence—you’re welcome for my contribution—to make sure you remain safely anonymous behind a wall of defense. If someone comes looking, our B.A.B.I.E.S. get us or Friday and we take care of it even as they shield you.”

“You get to help us and we get to protect you,” Natasha added, tracing the bracelet on her right wrist still. She hadn’t quite gotten used to it being there though it was light and barely perceptible. There was no sensation of weight. It would be easy to forget in a few days.

Laura’s eyes widened a fraction more than she looked at Clint. “You created an AI for me? And the phones and the equipment upgrades? A grant? Because I said…”

“Because you said it was important for you to help me. To help us,” Natasha said bluntly. “Because you’re putting yourself out there. I can’t let anything happen, none of us can.”

“It’s a done deal, but it’s also our present to you. So you have what you need to do what you already intended to—just with more us to it.”

Clint put his hand on Laura’s shoulder but she read the gratitude in his eyes. He got it. Natasha dipped her chin.

“I—you’re serious.” Laura pressed the back of two fingers to her mouth as she glanced from them to Clint. “Did you know?”

“No,” he told her. “This—is a good surprise though. Let’s you do what you said you wanted to do, to help—and we can still protect you.”

“Nat,” Laura exhaled. “It’s only been a few days and you did all this.”

“Hello,” Tony said with a small smile, waving. “Tony Stark. Have we met?”

Laughter erupted from the pair and then Laura was up and she hugged Natasha first and then Tony. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Natasha told her. “You chose to act and I appreciate everything you want to do. But I need for you to be safe doing it. Nothing is a hundred percent, but anyone coming looking for you is going to find us waiting, so…just promise you’ll use it.”

“I’ll take very good care of your B.A.B.I.E.S., I still can’t believe you called it that,” Laura laughed.

“I blame Tony,” Clint said.

“We usually do,” Natasha agreed, but he just chuckled.

“Seriously, the grant is yours, the only oversight is Friday, if you run into needing more equipment or server space, talk to her. She’ll get you set up. Red or I or both of us can come out to get everything installed so you’ve got the full system.”

“And if I use Bishop, which _no one_ calls me anymore, nothing links back to Clint or the kids. I haven’t been Laura Bishop in years.”

Clint’s expression shifted. “You’re still not, it’s your codename.”

She glanced at him. “What?”

“You already labeled yourself LadyHawke, Bishop is just the next layer beneath that. A cover. A safety net.”

A faint red flushed Laura’s cheeks. “You’re never letting that go are you?”

“Nope,” Clint said, his grin widening and Natasha glanced away to give them a little privacy and found Tony making faces at her.

“You know,” Tony said. “You two can talk this out in here and we’ll let you have your privacy.” He gave Natasha a nudge toward the door.

“Tony,” Clint said abruptly and they both paused as Tony faced Clint, then Clint held out his hand. “Thanks for looking after my family.” He cut his gaze toward Natasha briefly and she smiled. He never had to thank her. “All of them.”

“I will happily make more B.A.B.I.E.S. with Red if the situation calls for it. It was fun.”

Rolling her eyes, she opened the door and let them out into the quiet hall. Before he closed it, he said, “Just a note—that sofa’s really comfy, but not _that_ comfy.”

“Get out Stark,” Clint answered drily and Tony chortled as he closed the door.

When he met her gaze, he raised his brows. “What? Sofa is in my office…”

“I didn’t say a word,” she answered. “But that was fun.”

“It was fun,” he agreed, then scratched at his ear. “She seemed a little more shocked than I expected.”

“Two different worlds, we’re integrating more into this one and in her world, people don’t build multi-million dollar ideas just for her.”

“Billion dollars, Red. Multi-_billion_ dollars. Trademarked and protected and belonging to no one else. Well—you get fifty percent of the credit. For that one at least, it is after all ours. The important thing is you feel better about it all.”

“I do feel better. I could still wish she wouldn’t but…”

“But you’re not making the choice for her and I _know_ how important that is to you.” When she would have turned to head up the hall, he caught her arm. “Got a sec? Not going to keep you long, not with hot cocoa in the offing but—just a couple of minutes?”

He nodded toward the conference room and she pivoted to follow him. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Didn’t get a chance to thank you for the code, Bad Spider.”

Oh. She chuckled. “Well, you did want me to help you with it.”

“I did,” he said, holding open the door for her. “I appreciate it more than you know. Friday ran a few simulations. It’s—perfect to avoid someone cracking the drive even manually. The updates won’t take without the call to that passcode.”

“And you don’t advertise it,” Natasha said as she leaned against the table. “It’s a security feature.”

“Exactly. Since updates for the software will come directly through our servers—I could kiss you for that.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“I noticed—still, I’ll save it for later,” he said it with a grin. “It means I can package it up and present the board with it fully automated. A few more tests to do but it’s done. Probably going to tweak it some—cause, well me. But there it is.”

“I’m glad. You didn’t pull me in here to talk about the cars, Tony. What’s up?”

He blew out a breath, then tugged his Santa hat to a jauntier angle. “I’m sorry about earlier, testing the bracelets and not giving you a little heads up about what the batons did.”

“I’m fine, Tony,” she promised him. “A little moment, just—a little one. The lightning effect the stingers have against the alloy of your suit. I knew where I was, but…just took me a minute to compartmentalize it again.”

“I still felt like an ass.”

“Don’t. Please?” She held out her hand and he took it, linking their fingers gently. “Seriously. The suit—the bracelets, the batons? Tony, you’ve made me some toys before…but these are awesome.”

“Well, I may have made you a few more I wasn’t going to give you in mixed company.”

She raised her brows.

“Rebuilt your coded icers,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking. “Some jewelry bites—and the dress.” The last part he seemed to hesitate on and she took a deep breath. “To be clear on mixed company, I meant Peter. Steve and Bucky knew I was making them for you again. I made them as gifts for you and you may never want to look at them much less wear them again and that’s okay. But I have them for if ever or whenever you want them.”

“You are the king of overkill.”

“I might resemble that remark. But he took from you…”

“He took from you, too.”

“If I could turn the clock back and not be such a jackass that night…”

“Don’t,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “Seriously, don’t. I’m glad I was there when they came for Pepper. Maybe it was a happy accident for them. He was certainly thrilled with his acquisition. But me being there meant he let Pepper go. I know I seem like a mess…”

“You don’t,” he told her. “You really don’t. You’re fucking amazing, Red, you’re putting yourself back together so fast. I want to make it all go away because…”

“You’re you. You fix things. But no regrets, Tony.” She gave his hand a squeeze and stood. “I mean it. No regrets.”

“If he’d killed you…”

“You can’t think like that,” she chided. “But you’re you, so you’re going to and you’re going to torture yourself. I don’t want you to do that. It doesn’t help me and it definitely doesn’t help you. I didn’t die. I’m right here. So are you. You’ve built the most amazing gifts for me, for Steve—for James. His arm, Tony. You built that. You do all these incredible things, don’t focus on something that didn’t happen.”

“Easier said than done, Red.”

“I know. I still have my moments…”

“But those are getting better, too?” He searched her eyes.

“I had a couple of moments last night…not as bad as they have been, but still there. A little moment this morning. They’ll fade. I’ll adapt. We’ll go on. We’re here. It’s Christmas… and you have like an armada to go build with Coop.”

He laughed. “I like having complete sets and he’s got Peter to help, too. Probably draft Bucky in… you too if you’re up for it.”

“You just want to add lasers and think I’ll help if I’m right there.”

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I do.”

Then lifting her hand, he pressed a kiss to it.

She had a few gifts left to give yet, but she still had to talk about one of them with Steve and James.

“Hogged you enough,” Tony said releasing her hand. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” she promised and she meant it. “You’re welcome. Hot cocoa?”

“Oh yes, please. Then probably building and food—then movies or games.” Tony snorted. “Board games. It’s been years since I just sat around and played those.”

She chuckled. “Not springing the game room on everyone?”

“Shh,” he pressed a finger to his lips as he opened the door. “That’s still a secret.”

So he _was_ done with it already. “My lips are sealed.”

But she totally needed to sneak in and see what he added. From the look on his face, he knew it, too.

**Bucky**

Arms folded, Bucky kept an eye on the hallway waiting for Natalia to return so he could whisk her out. He’d already told Steve he planned to steal her for a bit. Steve would likely do the same at some point during the day. They all wanted a little bit of her time. Clint had already grabbed her and based on Laura’s hug earlier, Bucky would guess Laura wanted her, too.

It amused him that she was so popular and it warmed him that she was so loved. Natalia had built a family around herself, not with just the Bartons but also with everyone else. A glance at his left “hand” again caught Bucky off-guard all over again. It had been metal for decades. Silvery. Gray. Cold. Ugly. Inhuman.

Natalia hadn’t shied away from it, but Bucky didn’t pretend it was remotely lovely and now it looked _normal_ and that was unsettling on so many levels. More than once, he’d caught Steve checking on him and he waved aside the concern. What Tony and Peter had done for him was—well, it was just an immeasurable gift and not one he’d ever imagined having.

While it floored him, it also intrigued him. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Tony that he wanted to get caught up on those engineering texts. Get himself up to speed so he could understand not only what they’d done but how they’d accomplished it. Doing something like this? Building things? Creating them?

That would be something to achieve. He caught the sound of her laughter before she appeared. Tony was shaking his head at whatever she’d said, but she pointed him toward the kids and grinned at Bucky when she caught his eye. With a nod toward the residential wing, Bucky raised an eyebrow.

Slowing, Natalia said, “I promised the kids hot cocoa and then yes?”

Good compromise. “I’ll help…” At her amused look, he added, “By keeping you company.”

The smiles and the laughter, he soaked all of them in. She’d smiled and laughed more in the last twenty-four hours than she had in the last ten days since they’d found her. Frankly, it was the best gift he could have received. Beyond giving her peace about Mary, the only one he wanted.

In the kitchen, he leaned against the counter. “Where is the meal stuff at?”

“Probably set up in the ballroom kitchen. Friday will probably bring it down or something.”

“Seems weird not to have something cooking with all these people.”

She laughed as she poured the milk into the huge pot. “A little bit, I kind of liked making that turkey and stuff at Thanksgiving.”

“I know. You did a great job. Did Pete check on his aunt?” Bucky twisted to glance over at the tree where Steve and Wanda were talking and Peter kept sneaking looks at her.

Poor kid.

“I don’t know,” Natalia answered. “Friday, status on May’s hospital?”

“An influx of patients began arriving shortly before the storm. They are trickling in and she is currently on a sleep rotation, but still on her assigned floor. Roughly a dozen babies were delivered over the course of the night. Currently, the hospital is running at optimum power and heat seems to be keeping up. Emergency services are triaging calls, but so far all contingencies are working.”

“That’s good,” Bucky said. If necessary, they could head back into the city, but the storm was a bear. It needed to clear so they could leave the city safely behind without worrying about further storm damage. He should probably check on the weather in Montana. But he’d do that later.

The scent of chocolate teased him as she added chocolate bar after chocolate bar. There was a heady spiciness underscoring the sweetness and he tilted his head to the side. Whatever she added she used her body to block him from seeing. She pulled a carton out of the fridge and added it to the pot, stirring steadily.

“Almost ready, you want to gather the troops?”

He whistled sharply and it cut through the hum of noise and music. “Hot cocoa,” he said quietly as soon as he had their attention. Laura and Clint had yet to return—maybe Clint took them up on the date idea. The kids were definitely distracted.

It took ten minutes to serve out all the mugs. Peter took advantage of it to get Wanda talking. When Natalia hid a smile, Bucky pretty much figured he’d been right. There was definitely a crush being nursed there. Kid wasn’t doing too bad though. At least he could talk to her.

“I need a bit with Natalia,” he reminded Steve quietly as the kids recounted the gifts they’d gotten earlier to Natalia and she set up their hot cocoa. The flavor was out of this world. He always enjoyed it, but it warmed him all the way to his toes and he wasn’t sure what she’d done. It was smoother, almost kinder in a way. Like a chocolate hug… “At least an hour.”

“Sounds good,” Steve said not even hiding his grin. “I’ll cover. Use my suite—she gave Peter open access to hers. Take your time.”

Bucky nodded. “Thanks.”

“No problem, I planned on getting some time later, too.”

With a grin, Bucky gripped his shoulder with his left hand and they both glanced at it for a moment. “That’s going to be a strange sight for a while yet.”

“Maybe, but it looks good on you.”

So far the kids hadn’t said a word, but Christmas was bigger competition. Laura and Clint finally put on an appearance. Between her flushed face and Clint’s easy grin, Bucky just shook his head. Tony looked amused and the kids were excited. Clint paused next to Natalia in the kitchen and whispered something in her ear. She burst out laughing and gave him a hug.

Finally, she extracted herself and made her way across to him. A hand brush here, a hug there, a kiss to her cheek, and none of it fazed her. She wasn’t pretending or compartmentalizing because the light in her eyes never went out. When she interlaced her fingers with his, Bucky sighed.

Waiting and giving her all the time she needed hadn’t upset him. Not being able to comfort her had frustrated him, but he had too many years where all he’d been able to do was just be in the same room if he was lucky. The others had felt the absence of her far more keenly in that respect. At the same time, the fact he could feel her fingers in his, the warmth of her hand, the softness of her skin, the familiar callouses from handling weapons and it all came through his left just added to the treasure of the moment.

He savored the contact all the way to the door of Steve’s room. Friday unlocked it for them without him having to ask and when Natalia gave him a curious look, he said, “Friday, privacy mode and lock the room please.”

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes. Privacy mode engaged.”

Lifting the hand he still held, he kissed her fingers. Head tilted, Natalia smiled slowly. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he whispered against her palm before he kissed that. “I believe you still owe me about ninety minutes.”

Her pupils flared and her breath caught. “I believe you’re right.” After her panic attack, neither he nor Steve had demanded anything from her. They’d talked, they’d eaten, then they’d played and made love, but it hadn’t been a demand. Licking her lips slowly, she leaned away to set her mug down and he followed suit, still holding her hand captive.

“What do you want?” The simple question, her eyes open and welcoming even as her pupils dilated and her mouth remained slightly parted and her nostrils flared.

“You,” he said simply. “Just you.”

“Da, zvezda moya,” she murmured and he released a sigh.

With a glance around the room, he guided her toward the bedroom. “Same rules, lyubov moya. If you need anything to stop, you say stop.”

“Da.”

Just inside the door, he said. “Strip.”

She chuckled and gave his metal hand a squeeze before she backed away. Her boots were already gone, but the sweater and t-shirt went next leaving her in a plain black bra. There were a number of tiny bite marks and hickeys left by he and Steve littering her skin. He smiled. She’d left her fair share on both of them. Hers were already fading, more than one was already gone. The swiftness of their retreat another endorsement of her overall improvement. Bucky drank in the sight before he stripped off his sweater and shirt. As he toed off his boots, she stripped the yoga pants down revealing her gorgeous legs.

The stretch of her muscles across her abdomen rippled with her movements. He shed his jeans and taking the boxer briefs with them. His cock was already stone and she’d just unclipped her bra. When her gaze traced over him, he smiled.

“Are you going to be upset if I blindfold you again?”

“Do you want to blindfold me?” Question for a question and her bra dropped.

“Damn, Doll. I will never get over you having the prettiest titties.” He wouldn’t. The absolute, unabashed poise was all her, but he had always enjoyed her breasts. Who was he kidding, he enjoyed everything about her. “I’m thinking about it.” Her fingers went to her panties she skimmed those downward. While he’d never take anything from her without her permission, he enjoyed it when she surrendered the control. It satisfied him on a very primal level that needed to look after her.

It was also one of the few times when she would let him without reservations.

Her nipples pebbled. It was cooler in the suite. But he would warm her up shortly. There was already a shift in her posture as her thighs flexed. Was just being nude enough to turn her on or was it looking at him?

“Stand still,” he murmured and then ran his left hand lightly down her arm, testing the nerve sensitivity. She let out a little laugh and her nipples tightened more. The little buds practically begging. The hint of pale freckles scattering across her breasts drew him to trace his finger from one to the other, then he circled a nipple and smiled at the sharp catch of her breath.

Playing with her was something else and feeling her with his left hand as he stroked his right hand over her belly was a delight. “No,” he said slowly. “I don’t want to blindfold you today. I want to see your eyes when I fuck you, I want you to see me when I slide inside you, I want to taste you when you come and I want to hear you scream.” He smiled. “I want to play with you for hours, see just how many times I can make you come—we’re up to ten or was it eleven before?”

The black of her pupils seemed to swallow her irises. Natalia submerged so swiftly when he asked for this, but only when she was ready.

“Talk to me, kotyonok.”

“I can’t remember,” she whispered. “I thought it was twelve—maybe? It was a wonderful night.”

That first night he and Steve shared her. All night. It was a lovely record.

“Four or five…when it was just you and me…the day you brought the plug.”

He sighed, just massaging her breasts. His cock ached, but he wanted more than a quick fuck against the wall. Though those definitely had their merit.

“Good to know…we’re going to take a day and we’re going to find out exactly how much is too much,” he told her. “Back up, Kotyonok and lie on the bed.”

She licked her lips again, but didn’t hesitate. There was a question in her eyes as she sat and then began to ease her way back onto her elbows.

“Ask.”

“Just how many orgasms? Or did you want to find out something else?”

He chuckled softly. “Greedy, aren’t we?”

“For you?” She raised her brows, her expression open and frank. “Always.”

He tilted his head back and took a deep breath as he ran his hand along his cock, one stroke then he fisted himself tight. There was a little moan from the bed and he opened his eyes again and looked at her. “I want to know everything, Natalia. You liked the spanking…”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Don’t ask me why, please.”

“Think about your answer,” he said, then pressed a kiss to her knee. “Because I will ask, just not now and scoot back a little more. Good girl,” he crooned and gave himself another squeeze, just at the edge of pain to push off the need throbbing in him.

Another little groan from her but she complied and when he nudged her legs a little wider, it was his turn to groan at the sight she made. “You’re still good, yes? No hesitations?”

“None.” The word fell from her lips like a beautiful prayer, reverent and loaded with conviction.

“What do you say if you do?”

“Stop.”

He smiled. “Da, Kotyonok. Always pleasure for you.” He released himself and knelt down to stroke his hands over her thighs. “Fuck you feel good Natalia…this hand…this arm…”

She dropped onto her back, relaxing, but twisted so she could look down at him. “How good?”

“Almost like I’m getting to touch you for the first time again.” In some ways, he was. He’d never really _felt_ her with this left hand. The pressure, yes. Some temperature differentials. But not this. Over and over he stroked her thighs, marveling at the way her muscles rippled beneath his fingers, at the heat and softness of her skin.

“I want to tie you up in those beautiful knots Stevie found, open your gorgeous ass with that lovely plug and spread you out for me. I want to spank you until that bottom is rosy and hot and then I want to eat you out until you scream,” he murmured. “I want to know just how much pleasure you can take before you melt and I want to have you every possible way.”

Her cunt was slick and pink and swollen. With every word he spoke, her stomach contracted and a ripple passed through her legs.

“Does my desire please you?” He wasn’t sure who he was torturing more, her or himself.

“Yes,” she whispered and lifted her hips. Sliding a hand under her, he massaged her ass gently. “Please…”

That one word broke him and he dropped his weight forward, his mouth on her cunt. One stroke of his tongue over her clit and she let out a cry that made him smile. Bracing his shoulders between her thighs, he said, “Hands on your breasts Natalia, tease yourself… and you come as often as you can.”

That sent a shudder through both of them.

He was never ready for how beautiful she was or how open. He stole a glance upward as he licked her from her entrance to her clit, the musky taste all he craved. Sweeter and spicier than her hot chocolate.

“Fuck,” she groaned, elongating the word as she rubbed her breasts and pinched at her nipples. The sweet pink tips had flushed a deeper red and the color spread over her chest.

She was close

“I’m working on it,” he teased and lifted her just enough to slap her ass. The sting barely registered on his palm but her whole body bucked and a needy little moan escaped.

Yes, he definitely planned to explore this more at length. Once upon a time, the Soldier had always had to be on top, in control, and he’d always needed to press into her, pinning her as he fucked her and she’d clung to him every time. Maybe they’d always had a little bit of this in them.

Maybe.

Definitely something to explore, he sucked her clit against his teeth and slid two fingers from his left hand into her channel and fuck—her cry as she came was sharp and sweet and his cock twitched as the warm, wet walls squeezed against his fingers. Her thighs flexed against his shoulders as she came and soaked his hand. He lapped at her, then sucked her clit, thrumming it with his tongue and curling his fingers to find that… spot it should right… her full-throated shout made him groan.

There it was. She bucked again and he coaxed her down a notch and then drove her back over the edge until she let out an actual scream. Lifting his head, he grinned. She was so beautiful spread out for him like this, open and needy. The flushed color had spread over her breasts and her eyes were almost drunk.

Still smiling, he eased his fingers out as the aftershocks rushed her and climbed along her body, before he pressed those two fingers to her lips. She opened her mouth and sucked them in. The feel over her tongue over those digits sent a pulse of pure lust straight through him.

He wanted to extend the play, but the arm was so sensitive. “Touch me,” he whispered and she seemed to understand as she sucked his fingers harder and stroked her hand up and down his arm. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips swollen from biting at them. Her legs were still spread and her eyes heavy-lidded. His cock rested against the slickness of her cunt and he barely rocked against her as she teased his arm with the sweet pressure of her mouth on his fingers.

Eyes stinging for a moment, he had to blink and she slowed her ministrations to cup his face. He closed his eyes and bowed his head as she stroked his cheek, her thumb catching the tear that slid out.

“Zvezda moya, if it’s too much, tell me to stop.” Her voice was husky, pleasure-drenched and he was bringing her down.

“It’s wonderful,” he promised her then claimed her lips in a kiss. She opened to him, sliding her hand into his hair and gripping it as he stroked his tongue against hers. She licked at his mouth, sweet, little kittenish licks the kind that drove him fucking insane when she sucked him off and he delighted in the shudder going through her.

Sliding an arm under her, he dragged her up the bed until she was on the pillows and he was settled between her thighs. He could die a happy man, just lying her kissing her, having her suck against his tongue and letting him suck on hers. He wanted to imprint the memory on both of them, that intangible connection that survived every fucking roll of the dice they’d taken in the chair. That part of them that always fit.

It was carved into his brain like it had been carved in stone, now. The depression repeatedly filled in over and over again until it she was embedded in his soul. Never again. Never again was he going to lose her that way.

She locked her thighs against his hips, meeting every stroke of his tongue and grinding against him. He guided his hand between them, carefully easing his fingers into her again. She was still so damn wet and her little cry of frustration against his lips made him laugh. There was an aching need she filled in him, but there was also pure joy. They could be as noisy as they fucking wanted and he loved it.

He teased his thumb over her clit and she came, her shout of surprise delighting him and then he gripped his cock and corrected the angle.

Lifting his head, he finally broke the kiss and she stared up at him with wondering eyes, hazy with pleasure. There she was. Just his Natalia, wanton and pleasured, and all his.

A little whine escaped her as he sank into the warm, wet heat. He groaned as sweat beaded along his back. All of his control began to fray, but he held onto it determined to take her back up to the peak with him.

“Fuck…” she exhaled as he bottomed out and he nodded.

“Oh, I plan to,” he managed and his voice sounded as wrecked as she looked and he didn’t give a damn. He gave a couple of shallow strokes and she arched, those powerful legs of hers wrapped around him. Dipping his head, he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth and her arch increased, her head back and throat exposed.

No more, his balls were so tight they threatened to explode. He rolled onto his back and set her above him. Her tousled hair haloed her face as she looked down at him. The dog tags dropped between her breasts, the new spider necklace stark against her pale skin. The matching bracelets on her wrists added to the picture.

“Ride me until you orgasm,” he ordered. “I want to see you come.”

“I…”

“Do it,” he ordered, and gave her ass another light slap. Her body clenched around him and he smiled. She braced her hands against his shoulders—left and right. The bite of her nails there, especially on the right but he got the sense of them on the left. He settled his hands on her hips, loving the feel of them as she began to rock them both, the rise and fall of her drawing away from him and then sinking down. She did this thing with her hips, rotating them with a little twist on every stroke.

The sweetest torment.

Aching with the need of it, he forced himself to wait as she drove herself grinding down over and over. The bounce of her beautiful breasts held his attention, the flush of her cheeks, the way she bit her lip. Unable to stand it any longer, he slid his fingers between them and pressed against her clit. She clamped down on him and came with a sudden and abrupt scream. Planting his feet against the bed, he thrust upward, once, twice, and then his spine went molten as heat and pleasure swamped him. By the time she screamed her way through the orgasm, he drove right through her aftershocks. The spasming of her muscles around his cock drove him mad and then another burst left him as he came.

She hung there suspended for a moment, mouth open and panting. Sweat dripped down her chest and he wanted to lick it up but he could barely move. When she collapsed, he cradled her to him, boneless. He had no idea how long they lay there panting, but he didn’t care. It was all naked, sweaty limbs and the warm sweet heady scent of her arousal and release.

“James,” she whispered and his name was a caress all its own.

“Hmm?”

“I like these holiday trysts—I think we need to make them a routine.”

“Whatever you want, Doll,” he told her, stroking her back. “Whatever you want.”

“No,” she whispered, then kissed his chest. “What _you_ want.”

Fuck. The offer swirled through him and clamped down. She was his bliss and his blessing.

“Yours,” he promised and felt her smile against his skin.

“Da, zvezda moya. Postoyanno.”

“Da,” he agreed, gathering her hair in his fist and gently lifting her head. “Always.” Then he kissed her.

Always.


	41. Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas gives them all an excuse to enjoy the day and James gives Nat a very special gift

**Chapter Forty-One**

_Us_

**Natasha**

Natasha stretched her legs slowly. She ached in all the best ways and James stroked a hand over her ass, rubbing slow, lazy circles. They’d gotten their breathing under control, but neither of them wanted to move. A warm lassitude imbued her muscles and she smiled against his chest.

“We have to go back out there,” she murmured.

“I know,” he said. “But we have another ten minutes. I think.” He shifted beneath slightly and turned his head. “Nine minutes.”

She chuckled because he wasn’t making any attempt to rise. After that last orgasm, she’d collapsed atop him and he’d kept her there as he’d softened and slipped away. Their skin was a little tacky, but her mind was fresh and sharp and alert. It had been as perfect as it had been unexpected.

“That leaves me thirty minutes in debt, if I’m counting correctly?”

“Hmm…can I squeeze another thirty minutes to add on to that?” The dark promise in his voice sent a shiver down her spine.

“You can have whatever you want,” she said, lifting her head to rest her chin against her folded hands on his chest and meeting his gaze. He lifted his left hand and ran it over her hair gently.

“Da?”

“Hmm… if I can give it to you, it’s yours.” Not even a question. “I know I’m not always easy.”

“I don’t need easy, Natalia. I’ve only ever needed you.”

She smiled. “Then you may have me…”

“And when you need it or simply desire it, you will tell me.” It wasn’t a request.

With a slow nod, she sighed. “You don’t mind that I like… I like being spanked and commanded by you or Steve?”

“No, because you’re allowing us the power and you may take it back whenever you choose.” He traced his fingers over the shell of her ear. “But I am very curious why you like being spanked.”

A laugh escaped. “It hurts but it doesn’t. There’s—this sharp focus that comes with the sting. It makes the noise go away and then there’s the heat that just—makes the pleasure more. I know logically it’s the endorphins it releases that in turn enhance the pleasure receptors as the body accommodates the pain signals… but it’s not a kink I’ve really let anyone else do. I know you’re not trying to injure me. So—it lets me relax my guard. And I float. That’s kind of nice, too.”

He nodded slowly. “That wasn’t so difficult an answer.”

“When I’m not drunk on you driving me crazy, no. Did I like a little pain before?”

Another little nod. “I was thinking about it. The Soldier always wanted control even when he had you, maybe even especially when he had you because we always wanted to protect you. I didn’t let you ride me often, it was most always me on top…or pushing you against a wall. I had to cover you when you were vulnerable, control my strength so I didn’t hurt you.”

A shiver rolled through her at the description. “I have no trouble seeing that.”

He chuckled as he traced his fingers over her jaw, then along her cheek. “I have something for you.”

“Oh, I know. You had a lot for me…”

Another laugh rumbled in his chest. “A gift, Natalia. A gift for you that I was hesitant to put under the tree, but I’ve been hunting for months.”

“Okay.” The softness in his eyes captivated her. “I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“It’s from you.” She lifted her shoulders. “I’m not a materialistic person. I treasure people…moments… I treasure what gifts mean.” Tony’s bracelets designed to protect her. James’ arm designed to give him back a sense of self and sensation. Steve’s watch designed to shield _him_. The painting Steve gave them of Mary to recapture a moment in time they could never return to. Her arrow necklace. The batons. Steve’s tags. Those gifts were magical because of what they _meant_ not just for what they were.

Like the paints for Steve so he could explore something he loved or video games for James so he could have a little bit of careless fun. The bikes—so they could have fun together. Gifts had meaning—but so did moments. Dancing with James in the snow or making fondue for Steve…it was probably why she’d secreted away those comic books. They were a moment to keep. People. Moments. Everything else was so fleeting.

The fanciful thoughts dancing through her mind made her smile and she shook her head. She’d told Clint it was too late. She had changed irrevocably in some ways.

James sat up and she let out a little groan as he carried her up with him. With a light kiss, he lifted her off him to sit on the bed and then he rose. The lack of steadiness in his legs left her feeling just a bit smug. Though she had a feeling she was similarly shaky at the moment.

Drawing her knees up, she rested her arms on them as she tracked James to where he’d dropped his clothes. He returned a moment later, hands behind his back. Meeting his pale blue gaze, she tilted her head.

“On Thanksgiving, I told you why I hadn’t given you my tags.”

She remembered.

“But I wanted you to have something of mine…something for you. It seemed like a good idea at the time…” He frowned. “I thought this would be easier to say.”

“Can I help?”

“You always help,” he murmured. “Natalia… you are my light in the darkness and the shadow who shields me from the burning bright. You’ve walked some of the darkest roads with me, loved me when I was barely human and you made me remember what it is to _be_ human. For two years after Hydra fell, I wandered…I was looking for _something_. But I didn’t understand what. Looking back, I was looking for you, but you were still trapped in those half-formed memories, the red hair, the ballet dancer, the Widow, all shadows dancing with shadows.”

He exhaled a long breath.

“When you tell me you want to unlock us from in there…” he said brushing his knuckles against her cheek. “When you say you want to get _us_ back. I understand. I wanted us back too, but I didn’t know how to define it…and I needed to find something that represented all of that for me—for _us_—”

Gaze locked on hers, he opened his hand.

Half-expecting it let her brace as she glanced down. The ring in his hand didn’t glow, but it did possess a gleam. It had a river of sapphires twisting with bands of black titanium and pale, milky diamonds that instantly made her think of snow or moonlight.

Winter.

“A pathway through the night—it twists into infinity…” He was right it was an infinity knot, subtle but there.

No glitter.

No yellow gold.

Her heart thumped painfully, but it didn’t accelerate.

Lifting her eyes, she met his watchful gaze. “It’s beautiful James.”

“Yeah?”

“Da. It’s…” She licked her lips, then reached out with a careful hand and he surrendered it to her palm. It had weight to it, solid and at the same time light. She traced her finger gently over the path made by the sapphires. They were a mix of pale and dark, like the light shimmered on water.

Pursing her lips, she looked up to find him studying her intently.

“It’s really beautiful. You were worried it would trigger me.”

He nodded slowly. “I almost didn’t want to give it to you now…because you have been so happy the last day or so. At the same time, I’m selfish because I wanted to give it to you—I wanted you to have something from me. I couldn’t give you gifts before—now I can.”

As she turned the ring over in her hand, she took his fingers and lifted them to rest against her pulse at her throat and then gazed at him steadily.

“Would you like me to wear it?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “But I don’t want it to cause you harm.”

She smiled. “You would never hurt me. This is your ring…”

Wanda put her rings on earlier and it had made Natasha happy to see her smile. Even Stephen’s sling ring didn’t bother her as much. This… this was James. And it wasn’t dull gold or glowing, except it was—like a cold dark night where even the stars were muted, but they still shone.

What was with her and the ridiculous poetry? She set the ring into his hand and said, “Put it on me?”

Cupping her right hand, he slid the ring onto her right ring finger and his hand trembled against hers until she curled her fingers around his and gripped.

“Merry Christmas, moy svet,” he whispered. His light.

The weight of it settled on her hand and she smiled before cupping his cheek with palm. “Merry Christmas, zvezda moya.” With care, she stroked away his tears and then kissed him softly.

After several, short, sweet and fierce kisses, he said, “If you need to take it off, you will. I _want_ you to take it off. You can put it on the chain with the tags or in the drawer on my side of the bed. But I want you to only feel me when you look at that ring, Da?”

The request laden in the command made her smile. “Da. But I don’t want to take it off if I can help it.” She didn’t. Not anymore than she wanted to take the tags off. She was still studying her hand when a chime sounded discreetly in the other room.

James glanced at the clock. “Thank you, Friday, we will be along directly.” Swiping a hand across his eyes, he rose and tugged her gently to follow him. “Shower and then dress?”

She was still floating a little so she wrapped herself around him and sighed when his arms locked around her. “Just another minute?”

“Every minute you want,” he whispered, then kissed the top of her head and she closed her eyes.

They couldn’t take that long, but she savored the closeness. When they finally slipped into the shower to rinse, she glanced at the ring again. The darkness and the light twisting around her finger fit James.

Curling her fingers a little tighter, she caught him watching her and she grinned. “I like it.”

“Good.”

“It’s us.”

And it was them.

It was perfectly imperfect.

~~~

They wandered back out to the Common Room where the living room had been converted into a workshop with Peter, Tony, and Coop hard at work building the fleet of model ships. Steve sprawled on the sofa watching them with an amused expression while Nate slept soundly against his chest. Wanda and Laura were missing as was Clint and Lila.

“Dad’s giving Lila her first archery lesson,” Coop announced as she leaned over the sofa and ran her fingers over Nate’s back. His little cheeks were flushed, but he wasn’t too warm. But he was definitely out for the count. “Mom and Wanda went to ‘supervise,’” Coop finished, his grin infectious. “But it’s almost time for food so they’ll be back.”

Chuckling, Natasha met Steve’s gaze. “Comfortable?”

“Very,” he said. “Those three should take their act on the road.”

“Are you calling us entertaining, Cap?” Tony eyed him over the top of his glasses.

“Could be,” Steve answered.

“How long has he been out?” Natasha asked. James’ hand was on her lower spine, just resting there under the sweater where he could trace his fingers lightly against her skin. The tactile need triggered by the new arm fascinated her and at the same time, she was so grateful he didn’t have to resist the urge at the moment.

“About twenty minutes,” Steve told her, his gaze zeroing in on her finger and then his grin grew.

“I’ll go put him in his crib then. Probably easier on him to not be cranky through food.”

“That’s the truth,” Coop exclaimed. “But he’s feeling better. Dad said the fever was gone.”

“Good,” she kept her voice even. “How long until food?”

“Hmm—fifteen minutes, Red. Ballroom. Be prompt and no one goes in until we’re all there.” Tony glanced at them and then grinned as she eased Nate upward. The toddler let out a little grunt but his eyes never moved. Yeah, he was out. Cradling him to her chest, she nodded.

“Fifteen minutes, we’ll be there.” She caught Steve’s gaze then nodded toward the hall.

“Yep, we’ll be there.” Steve rose and followed her. They’d asked to help with the kids for a while. The bubble encasing her kept her lighter than air.

Friday opened the guest suite for her and she carried Nate straight into his bed. Once she got him down, she snagged a diaper and changed him swiftly, careful of waking him and then buttoned his sleeper back up.

“I forgot how fast she was at that,” James murmured.

“She’s got nimble fingers,” Steve mused softly and Natasha bit back a chuckle as she switched on the night light.

“Friday, dim the room and secure. You have monitoring.”

“I have him, Nat,” Friday answered in a similarly low voice. “I’ll let Mr. and Mrs. Barton know as well.”

“Thank you.”

Pressing a kiss to her fingers, she brushed it to Nate’s cheek. Steve caught her fingers lightly in his as they closed the door and he brushed his thumb over the ring.

“This is okay?” He glanced from her to James as they left the suite.

James just grinned. “Natalia said it was.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest. “Yes, it’s more than okay.” She held up her hand. The light didn’t dance over it, yet it still shimmered. “I love it.”

“Good,” Steve said with a slow exhale. The palpable relief just made her love him more. He’d been worried about her reaction to James’ gift, but he wanted her to like it almost as much as James had. “It looks good.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” She wrinkled her nose. “We have—what twelve? Maybe eleven minutes ‘til we need to be in the ballroom?”

“Give or take,” James answered, studying her. “What’s up, Doll?”

She glanced down the hall. “I need five minutes to ask you two about something.”

“Done,” Steve said and glanced the length of the hall and then down at her. “Friday are we alone on this side right now?”

“You are, Captain Rogers. Would you like privacy? I can also let you know if anyone approaches.”

“That would be great, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Privacy engaged.”

Steve glanced at her spread his arms. “We’re all yours.”

“You were mine before,” she teased and his grin grew.

“Yes, we were.”

James leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “What’s up, Doll?”

“I want to take Tony out for that date we bet on before.” She glanced from one to the other. “It’s never really sat well with me that I reneged on it. And I want to do something nice for him for all the things he’s done for me.” For all of them really, but she wasn’t making this about Steve or James. “But I’m not going to if it’s a problem for either of you. Big or small.” She spread her hands. “I’ve been thinking about this for a few days—it kind of occurred to me when Laura and I were talking about present ideas for him… He has everything, but the one thing he asked me for, I had to take back.”

James glanced from her to Steve whose expression was more thoughtful than upset. “Can we ask some questions?”

“Always.”

“Do you _want_ to go on this date? Or is it just because you feel bad about canceling it?” It wasn’t an unfair question.

“A little bit of both,” she admitted.

“You’re aware of how he feels about you, Doll.” That wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “Or at least how I think he feels. He doesn’t talk to me about that.”

Surprise rippled through their expressions. “He doesn’t?” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “At all?”

“Not really. Dances the line around it. I know he cares… it would be hard to miss. The clothes, the defense, building safety features around me…” She held up her wrists. “Tony only builds things for the people he cares about. Months ago—he made it clear he felt more, but he also made it clear he was good with us just being friends.”

That friendship mattered to her.

“How do you feel?” Steve asked, his tone careful.

“Complicated.” If she was asking for this, she was going to be one hundred percent honest. “Very… complicated. His friendship means a lot to me. So does his respect and his trust. The last few years as unpredictable as he pretends to be, he’s been one of the most reliable people in my life.”

Steve exhaled.

“It’s not a criticism, Steve.”

“I know it’s not,” he said, leaning back against the wall. “But I also don’t know if you taking him on a date may complicate an already complicated situation.”

Reasonable.

“At the same time, I get it,” he said and that earned a second glance from James. “You and Tony are a lot alike in some ways, I never realized how much until recently.”

“We don’t have to decide now,” she said. “We can think about it and I wasn’t kidding, if this bothers you _at all_, then tell me and I’m not going to be upset.”

“We?” James asked, his tone careful.

“We. The three of us… this works. I care about Tony and I’d like to spend the time with him and have fun, but where that would go or do…I don’t have an answer. He doesn’t want to focus on that and maybe that’s better. Maybe he wants time to process his feelings and to move on…”

“Or maybe he wants you well enough and happy enough that he won’t feel like he’s distracting you,” James said quietly.

“Maybe,” she said. “But regardless of the rest of it, he’s my friend. His friendship matters. And I technically won the bet…”

Steve eyed her.

“What? I did. I got Ross out of our hair…mostly.”

“We’re not reopening that wound,” James stated firmly. “You should have put a bullet in his head.”

“I thought about it.”

Steve groaned. “What did I tell you two about planning?”

“This isn’t planning, Stevie. This is critiquing the work. Still, Natalia did knock him out of the Committee. Even if they are all hesitating about actually prosecuting him.”

After a glance at his watch, Steve said, “What were the details of the date?”

“We go to dinner wherever I wanted to go, since I won and we then we spend the evening doing whatever he wants to do.” And because of how that sounded… “Be aware, on the table at the time was dressing up in chicken suits and going caroling in the park.”

There was a beat of silence, then James snickered and Steve’s eyebrows climbed. “You know I almost want to say yes just for that visual.” Humor filled his tone. “But I am going to ask to think about it.”

“Done.”

They both studied her and then James’ smile grew. “You really aren’t upset about the idea we might say no.”

“A few months ago… you both acted like I was lying and I couldn’t be trusted.”

That sobered them both.

“It was—unpleasant. I’ve never really cared if people trusted me.” Which wasn’t wholly true, but she’d also never seen much value in it because she trusted so few and part of her job had always been to earn the trust of people she needed to manipulate to get the job done. “It was a long few days to be apart while feeling that way.”

Steve nodded. “Angel…”

“I’m not bringing this up to reopen that,” she said. “But—trust requires honesty and transparency. That’s why I’m asking and why I’m not going to get upset if the answer is no. This doesn’t work otherwise.” They didn’t work. Some of their conversations were difficult, brutal in fact, but they had to be able to talk about it. Just like they had in Switzerland when they finally began to broach what they would be.

“Do you love him?” Steve asked, the question blunt and lacking judgment.

“Yes.” Her stomach tightened. Love used to be for children, that dismissal surfaced every time but it was quieter now. “But am I in love with him? I don’t know. Attachment is… sometimes harder to define than I like. The words don’t always come easily.” Tipping her head back, she said, “And right now everything is complicated. People have meaning. Moments do, At the same time, my focus isn’t on any of you as much as it should be…”

“It’s still on Mary,” James said quietly.

“All of this has been wonderful… I think this really is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” In the last day, they’d both helped her get out of her head. She was still floating from earlier and their moments were even more precious because of all their obstacles. Maybe especially because of the obstacles—she looked at James. There had been so many obstacles for them. She ran her thumb over the ring.

But they were here. Together.

“I’ll tell you tonight, Doll.” At Steve’s questioning look, James added, “Natalia wanted to know about our Christmases in Montana.”

Blowing out a breath, Steve nodded. His thoughtful expression remained unchanged and he said, “Even if you give it to him, it’s going to…”

“Yeah, be a bit,” she admitted. “He wasn’t really pushy about it before. Neither of us were. It was—fun to tease and to joke. We have a lot on our plates. But I need Tony to know he matters, too. Until he’s ready for us to talk about it…we’re going to keep dancing this line.”

“Why don’t you push it and make him discuss it with you?” James asked, curiosity plain on his face.

“Probably for the same reason he isn’t,” she answered. “I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to force him to do something he doesn’t want to do.” Sometimes it was just easier to pretend. “I don’t want to lose his friendship.” Or his trust. “Spy whammy is fun to joke about, but I know it hurt him when I spied on him and manipulated his trust.”

“You won’t,” Steve said firmly. “Angel, he adores you and he’s made it clear he’s not going anywhere.”

“Steve’s right, Natalia. If you want to take him on the date… I don’t have a problem with _that_ precisely,” James explained slowly. “I’ll tell you what I told Tony, I’m not sure I like it, but I don’t hate it. He’s—he cares a lot. He’s a good man. Our history complicates things more and I don’t know if he fits here… with us.”

She would leave alone the line of what he’d told Tony. The fact the guys talked about her hadn’t been lost on her. If they wanted her to know what was said, they’d tell her. That was part of trusting them, too. Trusting them to have their privacy.

Chuckling, Steve shook his head. “I don’t hate it. I’m not sure I can say—I’m fine with it though.”

“Okay.”

She’d figure something out. Let him put her to work on more lab stuff. Help him with some projects.

Steve’s gaze softened and the corner of his mouth kicked up. “Angel, you know we’d do anything for you.”

“Yep…and I know I owe you ninety minutes.” Since James only collected about sixty of his, but asked for more.

Chuckling, Steve held out his hand and she slid her hand in his and curled right up to him as he hugged her. When James closed in on her back, she sighed.

“I’ll collect later,” Steve murmured and a shiver went up her spine that just made them both chuckle.

“She really likes that,” James commented and she closed her eyes as she leaned against Steve’s chest.

“So do we,” Steve answered drily.

James snorted and she had to bite back a grin.

Yes, they all enjoyed it.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t let this eat at you, okay?” She tilted her head and James eased back a fraction so she could look up. The fact she could settle between them without any stress added to the warm glow and floaty feeling. “I wasn’t sure how to ask before, but I meant it when I said this is a we and not just a me.”

“I know,” he said, a genuine smile tilting his lips. “I also know how much of you we keep asking you to adapt for us.”

Friday chimed quietly.

“We’re late, aren’t we?” Steve asked.

“Not quite, Captain Rogers. Boss is pushing his own time limits so they can complete the current model, but he’s closing in on the moment he’ll start hustling everyone. Mr. Barton and the others are heading back from the range now as well.”

“Thank you, Friday,” James said. “We’ll head up in a couple of minutes.”

“Of course, resuming privacy.”

Lifting her hand, Steve studied the ring and then glanced at his dog tags and finally at her. “I like this.”

“So do I,” she promised. “Not giving any of this up. Not giving you up. So you want out Rogers, you better learn how to go on the run a lot better.”

“Because you’ll find me,” he said.

“Damn straight,” James added. “And if you make us look too long, I’ll hold you down so she can spank you.”

For some reason, that image was both alluring and hilarious. She laughed and leaned into James as they both began to chuckle. “You know—now I have to run away if there’s a spanking to go with it.”

“Don’t you dare,” Steve said, the mirth in his eyes undiminished.

“Aww… it’d be fun,” she teased. Tomorrow…tomorrow they’d deal with everything else. They had a lot of tomorrows to face. But today, she wanted this right here.

“I’ll give you a spanking tonight if you want it so badly.” The fact Steve seemed to possess this edge to his personality intrigued the hell out of her.

“Pretty sure that sigh was a yes please,” James commented, then gave her butt a squeeze. “For now, we need to go be social and eat.”

With a much put upon sigh, Steve said, “Yes, we do.” The heat in his eyes said he was very serious about his promise.

Rising on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and James gave them a little more room as Steve picked her up. Nuzzling a light kiss to his lips, she murmured, “Just say when.”

His pupils expanded and his nostrils flared. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good,” she said with a shiver. “Should I wear a skirt?”

A huff of laughter from James and the flash of exasperation on Steve’s face made her grin wider.

“I’m keeping a mental tally of swats,” Steve warned and heat pooled in her belly.

“Oh goodie, I love a good reason to be bad.” After another nipping kiss, he set her down and though she half-expected it, the slap of his hand against her ass even through her clothes left a blaze of fire across one cheek. Heat he spread out with a gentle squeeze. Exhaling a swift breath, she glanced over her shoulder and said, “Promises, promises.”

He groaned and James slung an arm over his shoulder and murmured something to low for her to hear. Steve’s eyes lit up and Natasha had to squeeze her thighs together. They were winding each other up and they really did have to go eat dinner.

This was going to be so much fun.

Setting off, she added a little sway to her hips. “Coming, boys?”

If she was going to get a spanking anyway, she might as well enjoy earning it.

~~~

They met up with everyone else at the stairs leading to the ballroom. Natasha had assumed they’d bring the food down and eat in the Common Room with the tree and everything else. Tony stood a few steps up, hands clasped together as he surveyed all of them. Leaning into James, Natasha smiled as Lila squeezed in next to her and took her hand.

“I’m not big on speeches…” Tony began and Natasha snorted. “No one asked you Red,” he continued, grinning as everyone laughed. “But I’ve also not been big on the holidays in a long time. This—with all of you—has been a lot of fun. We should definitely do it more often—at least once a year.”

James chuckled softly and Steve just shook his head though his smile was undiminished.

“Without further ado,” Tony said. “Children front and center.”

Lila bolted up the steps with Cooper.

“Peter and Wanda, you qualify, let’s go.”

Steve claimed the hand Lila had released and Natasha grinned at him. There was delight and relish in Tony’s tone. They were all still sporting their Santa caps, but Tony had added a little Iron Man ornament to his at some point. After Peter and Wanda eased forward, Tony nodded.

“You four have to wait down here while the parents get to enjoy the festivities up there,” he said it with such a straight face even Peter blinked a moment.

Hands on her hips, Lila said, “Uh uh. You’re teasing.”

“I can’t even intimidate kids anymore.”

“Were you ever able to intimidate children, Tony?” Clint asked in a droll voice.

“Probably not, but then these are just very small agents aren’t they?”

That earned another laugh.

“Fine, fine. You got me. You get to lead the way, kids,” Tony said with a laugh. “Hit it Friday.”

The Christmas music kicked up a notch and Mariah Carey began belting out her _All I Want for Christmas_… as Lila and Coop raced up the stairs with everyone else ascending after.

“You’re having way too much fun with this,” Steve commented and Tony grinned.

“I am, aren’t I?”

“Woah…” Coop’s exclamation carried down the stairs along with similar gasps of surprise from Wanda and an excited squeal from Lila.

At the top of the steps, James let out a slow whistle and Natasha stared. She wasn’t alone. The upper floor had been festooned like something out of a holiday movie with tinsel and garland strung around the edges. There were two huge wreaths. A fireplace crackling merrily, and a table in the center laid out for a feast. Hot food steamed in the center and candles, pine cones and other decorations added to the festivities. A new tree twinkled in the corner and there was a boxed present on each place setting.

“Mommy,” Lila said. “They have our names on them.”

“I see that.”

Natasha slid a look over and Tony wore a pleased little smile as he watched everyone take in what he’d done. With the wide windows overlooking what was typically the greenbelt now transformed into a winter wonderland with the snow still blowing fiercely, it was like they were in their own holiday bubble.

Steve squeezed her hand.

“Tony,” Laura said as she turned to look at him. “This is—”

“Christmas,” he told her his tone easy and his smile growing. “Not to mention, a he—ck of a lot of fun.”

“Can we open the presents?” Coop asked.

“When everyone has their seat,” Tony said, waving them to the table. It took a couple of minutes for everyone to find their places. Steve got the head of the table at one end with James on his left and Natasha on his right. Peter was directly next to her, with Tony on his other side—the only spot without a present—and Wanda had the seat across from Peter. Vision got the other seat next to Tony with Clint at the other end of the table with Laura on his right. Lila got the seat on his left and Coop was sandwiched between Wanda and Laura.

“You can all thank Red for the idea,” he said, as he motioned to the presents.

Her?

She leaned forward to glance at him and raised her brows. Tony’s smirk didn’t offer a lot of answers.

Coop got his box open the fastest. “Woah—that’s me!”

“It’s me!” Lila called out and even Laura had a questioning look as she opened hers—which included a Nate.

Natasha opened her box and found a small four-inch replica of herself. Ornaments. Tony had ornaments of all of them made. These were incredibly detailed, finer than the boxed set she’d seen. Peter let out a little laugh and he shows her Aunt May with an incredulous look on his face.

Natasha stared across the table as James held his up for her to see and she grinned. James hadn’t had an ornament before. Delight curved through her.

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve said quietly, running his thumb over his own with its updated uniform and shield.

“Yes, thank you,” Laura exhaled the words. The kids were all scrambling and suddenly Tony found himself being hugged by Lila and Coop, not to be left out, Peter hugged him, too.

Though Tony looked a little startled, he also seemed pleased as he adjusted his hat and glasses.

“Can we eat now, Uncle Tony?” Lila asked.

“Yes, you may. Oh—and brace yourselves everyone for a little magic.” Tony grinned, then snapped his fingers and the lids on the food launched upward and exploding apart in a glittering shower of multi-colored sparks revealing the food.

Even braced, Natasha jerked a little. Still, she’d seen the fields shimmer and break over the food releasing much more of the scent from the roast turkey to the ham to the vegetables and holiday treats. It was a feast easily as large as Thanksgiving.

Holograms.

“Oh shit,” she murmured under her breath and Peter glanced at her with excitement dancing in his eyes matched only by the mirth in Tony’s.

Tony pressed a finger to his lips and she leaned back in the chair and laughed.

The fireplace that morning. The room. How much of the decorations up here? Natasha tilted her head back and studied them all, tree included, more closely. James caught her staring and he raised his brows, she grinned and shook her head.

Not her secret.

But fuck…that was… _impressive_.

“It’s like Harry Potter!” Coop yelled.

“Settle down,” Clint said though he was laughing. Then the food was flowing. As Steve passed her the ham, he leaned forward and she tilted her head.

“Is it me or is not everything here real?”

She grinned, then pressed her lips close to his ear to whisper, “Not just you.”

His mouth opened in a small ‘o’ and she caught him doing what she had. Trying to figure out what was real and what wasn’t. Clearly the table and chairs—and the food.

“Aunt May is going to love this,” Peter said as he set the May and Spider-Man in front of him.

Natasha chuckled. The kids were alight, excitement hummed around the table. Vision had joined them and he had a dozen questions for Tony about the various options for food and seemed to be testing them. Lila was helping out with her own suggestions that Vision took with all due seriousness.

How he ate exactly, Natasha hadn’t figured out. Steve and James were murmuring quietly to each other and the quick flashes of their smiles and the hints of nostalgia told her they were talking about the past. Laura and Clint were almost exclusively focused on each other. Coop and Peter were debating some project they wanted to do and twice Tony tossed in something but otherwise let them work out the details.

Though most of them had water, there was also eggnog, soda and poinsettias—a drink that combined champagne and cranberry juice—for Laura and herself. When Natasha frowned at Tony, he mimed zipping his lips and she rolled her eyes. The champagne was fizzy and when Peter asked to try a sip, she let him test the flavor in her glass.

He laughed about the bubbles tickling his nose. “Hey Mom,” Coop said. “Can I try yours? Auntie Nat is letting Pete have some.”

“No,” Laura and Clint answered in the same distracted voice. Coop stared at his parents for a minute then grinned at Natasha with a very unsubtle nod to them and his thumbs up.

She winked.

It would be really nice if it all worked out and Clint went home—or brought them all here. She’d miss him if he left, but she wouldn’t begrudge him this. Not even for an instant.

A foot nudged hers and she turned to where Steve and James were looking at her. Eyebrows raised, she grinned. Steve nudged her leg again and gave her an expectant look.

Ah.

She’d left her boots in the Common Room and hadn’t put them back on. So she slid her feet over into Steve’s lap. He gave her a little nod then looked at James again. Chuckling, she took a sip of her poinsettia as Wanda asked, “Are we training tomorrow?”

“Maybe in the morning? If we do it really early,” Natasha said. “James and I are leaving for a trip tomorrow.” The gentle floating sensation eased away, leaving her grounded. Montana. A precious piece of the past she had no memory of beyond leaving it.

“Peter and I were hoping we could start adding training sessions in together…”

“You will, but not yet,” Natasha said firmly and ignored the puppy dog eyes Peter was throwing her. “You’re both learning very different sets of lessons. But I don’t doubt there won’t be team exercises soon and Peter can participate in those.”

“Fair enough,” Wanda said with a sigh. “I am actually looking forward to everyone being back and around more.”

“We’re getting there,” Natasha told her as Steve curled his hand around Natasha’s ankle. The gentle squeeze said he agreed with her. They ate until they were full and even though desserts were added—pumpkin, cherry, and apple pies—Natasha resisted because she was way too full.

Peter bumped her shoulder and she turned her head as he murmured, “You’re leaving?”

“For a couple of days,” she said quietly. “Depends on the weather.” While they hadn’t talked about it specifically, she wasn’t sure they should leave while there was a chance of another collapse or disaster.

“It’s not Wakanda, right?”

“No, it’s not.”

He frowned. “You’re not going to tell me where?”

“It’s personal,” she said softly. “Nothing for you to worry about, malen’kiy pauk.” Yes, the floating sensation was gone, but she didn’t mind so much. The stroke of Steve’s thumb on her ankle helped though. He and James might be talking but he seemed aware of her conversation.

Another frown and Natasha met Peter’s gaze blandly. She had grown very attached to her little spider but this had nothing to do with him.

He sighed. “Promise to call if you get into trouble?”

She snorted and he grinned. “You’re fifteen,” she reminded him then ruffled his hair. “Enjoy your Christmas and don’t worry about me.”

As they wound down, Natasha eased her foot from Steve’s grip and grinned as he chuckled. It had been nice, but she needed to move. It had been a while since she was this full and it was making her sleepy.

“Video game time?” Coop asked.

“In a minute, Coop, give us old folks time to digest.”

Laura glanced around the table. “We should…”

“Nope,” Tony announced. “It will be taken care of and the leftovers will be stored in the fridge shortly.”

Natasha stretched as she stood and when Steve snaked an arm around her waist, she leaned into his shoulder. “Not escaping,” she teased him.

He squeezed her waist and James reached across the table to pick up her ornament. “This is probably the best one I’ve seen yet.”

“Did you help?” Natasha asked, glancing at Steve.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Angel,” he said. “These were all your idea.”

She rolled her eyes. So yes, he and Tony put their heads together on this or at least Steve had given him sketches. “You know,” she said quietly, as she ran her fingers over his scalp. “I can’t wait to see more of your work—not just sketches of me.”

“I like sketching you. Deal with it.” The last included a gentle squeeze and she grinned wider. “But I’ll see what I can do for you.”

Wanda groaned as she stood up. “I didn’t think I’d eaten that much.”

“It was great,” Peter enthused. “I could probably eat more.”

With a wave at the table, Wanda said, “There’s plenty.”

“Auntie Nat!” Lila tugged at her hand and Natasha glanced at her.

“Yes, darling?”

“Mario Kart, you’re my team, okay?”

“Wait!” Coop yelled and Natasha laughed. “Then I want Uncle Tony.”

“Ha,” Tony said.

Lila squeezed Natasha’s hand. “Then I get Uncle Steve.”

“Uncle Bucky,” Coop countered.

“Peter,” they both said at the same time and Peter raised his hands.

“Wait.”

Leaning against Steve, Natasha laughed.

“I said Peter first, “ Lila declared. “And he likes Auntie Nat best so he has to be on my team.”

“But Peter and I do engineering stuff and he likes Uncle Tony best,” Coop countered.

Peter looked at her for help and Natasha mouthed _wait_.

Clint’s whistle cut through the room and both kids looked at their father. There it was. “Do I need to pick the teams for you?”

Both kids shook their heads slowly.

“Does Wanda want to play?” Clint glanced at her and she laughed.

“I am nowhere near as competitive as everyone else. So I think I’ll just watch.”

Lila frowned. “Does Vision want to play?”

“Well, I’m most certainly happy to try,” Vision offered. “I am somewhat familiar with the game but I have not played it as much as the others.”

Ringer. He understood the game far better than he stated and his reactions were well-tuned for it.

Natasha squeezed Lila’s hand and when Lila glanced at her, Natasha nodded to him.

“Okay,” Lila said with a smile. “Will you be on our team, Vision?”

“I would be honored.”

“Yes,” Coop lifted a fist. “Peter, you’re with us. We’re going to be an engineer’s powerhouse.”

Natasha bit her lip and glanced at Steve. “You, me, Vision and Lila against all of them. We got this.”

“Oh, we’ve definitely got this.” His grin widened and Clint groaned.

“So what’s the bet, Red?” Tony eyed her.

“No betting,” Clint said firmly.

“Awww,” Lila, Coop, Peter and Tony all said at once.

As the kids raced out with Peter and Wanda, Vision followed at a more sedate pace and Tony glanced at her and Steve. “So, bet, right?”

“You know what…I’m leaving that up to you guys,” Natasha ducked out of it when Laura beckoned. “And I’ll catch up with everyone in a minute.”

“Chicken,” Tony teased when she flicked her fingers at him.

As she walked away, she caught Steve’s, “So, you want to make it interesting?”

~~~

Laura grabbed their champagne glasses and refilled them. “Go away, Clint,” she murmured to her husband and kissed him on the cheek. Natasha chuckled as Clint eyed them.

“You’re going to talk about me.”

“Of course we are,” Natasha told him. “And probably everyone else. But I’ll give her back, I promise.”

“Yes, and we only have a few minutes before Lila comes tearing back up here to get them since the guys are over there. In fact, go referee them,” Laura said with a chuckle, pointing him to where Tony, Steve and James were still talking.

With a put upon sigh, Clint said, “If I have to.” But his eyes danced as he winked before he walked away.

Natasha watched him go for a moment, then caught James’ gaze. He glanced at Steve and Tony then back to her with a faint roll of his eyes. She grinned. Whatever the bet was, let them figure it out this time. She was still paying off her last one. A lovely shiver went through her and she focused on Laura.

“You feel better,” Laura said quietly. Though she glanced at the ring, she didn’t say anything.

“I do,” Natasha admitted and they clinked the glasses together gently. Laura wasn’t looking at her though, instead, she was gazing after Clint. Not bothering to hide her smile, Natasha took a sip. “You’re feeling better, too.” Her ring against the champagne glass looked really good and a fluttering feeling unfolded in her middle.

“Yes and no,” Laura admitted, then blew out a breath as she turned to look out the window. Natasha leaned a hip against the railing, testing it since there was garland twined out and around it. And yep, real. Hmm. Movement at the corner of her eye alerted her to the guys leaving.

“Don’t take too long, Red, the troops will get restless,” Tony called.

“Be there in a few,” Natasha answered, but kept her attention on Laura. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything. Maybe nothing.” Laura made a face and looked at her. “Clint told you, didn’t he?” Then she held up a hand. “No, wait… don’t answer that.”

Natasha waited.

“This is insane, I’m hardly a teenager and it wasn’t my first date and at the same time…” She faced Natasha again. “Am I crazy?”

“I’m not actually the right person to ask.”

“Why not?” Laura frowned.

“Because I’m your crazy Russian, if I say no you’re not crazy, then you can ask yourself if it’s normal to me then maybe it is crazy. If I say yes, then I’m still crazy so maybe you’re not?”

Laura opened her mouth for a moment then snapped it closed abruptly. She downed the whole poinsettia in one cool swallow before she said, “I really hate your logic some days.”

“I know.”

“Nat—he’s not coming back to Iowa.”

“Okay.”

“So what am I doing?”

Tipping her head to the side, she said, “You’re choosing him. You’re choosing you.”

“But what does it mean?”

“You’re the only one who can answer that. You know that… you’re nervous because you liked it. It feels right and it feels natural.” It was the same reason Clint was scared. “You know what it feels like when it doesn’t go the way you expect.”

“I don’t have any expectations,” Laura admitted. “Maybe that’s harsh but—last night was probably better than it’s ever been and I swear to God if you mention tongue to me…”

Natasha laughed and Laura glared at her without any heat.

“Though admittedly—I am very fond of that thing he can do, so thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Natasha lifted her glass in salute then took another drink.

Another shaky exhale… “He said he wanted to go with you when you go to Montana. That’s where you’re going tomorrow?”

“James and I need to firm that up, but it depends on the weather.” And she didn’t want to take Clint away from his family.

“Don’t make that face, I agreed with him. He should be there even if he’s just keeping the peace between Tony and Steve while you and Bucky…revisit the past. Not that Steve and Tony seem to need it—that’s working out.” As fishing attempts went, it was fine.

“So far,” Natasha admitted. “One of the good things to come out of my disappearance. They seem to have found their friendship again.” For that, she was grateful. “Are you going to stay here with the kids while Clint is gone?”

“Yes,” Laura said. “We’re here until the New Year, then the kids have to go back to school.”

“Good. I don’t want to pull him away but I don’t think we’ll be more than a couple of days.” She could put off Wakanda until the kids went home. If Clint wanted to be there, too. That still left the question of Peter…

“Nat?”

“Hmm?”

Laura met her gaze. “It was really good.”

Natasha grinned. “How many?”

“Oh my god, you were serious.”

“I believe you told me that was what friends do—so how many?”

Laura flushed, but her smile stayed wide and she held up three fingers. “Last night.”

“And in Tony’s office?”

Her eyes widened. “Nat!”

She spread her arms wide. “Are you saying you didn’t celebrate with a little quickie against the door?”

“I will neither confirm,” Laura said with a grin. “Nor deny any assertions of impropriety in the office of the man you made babies with.”

Snorting, Natasha inclined her head. “Touché.”

“Speaking of which… I can’t believe with everything going on, you two did that.”

“You’re family,” Natasha reminded her. “You said you needed to do it. I needed to do this.”

“Nat?” Friday said.

“Hmm—yes Friday?”

“Your presence has been requested.”

Laura chuckled.

“Requested or demanded?”

“Boss indicated it will be a demand if I have to ask a second time. Young Miss Barton suggested it was a demand now. You’re the first player against Sergeant Barnes.”

She chuckled. “Apparently, I have to go beat James at Mario Kart.” Natasha took Laura’s empty glass as she drained the last of hers. “The kids are going to be busy and Nate’s napping. You could always steal Clint away for a little Christmas cheer.”

Mouth open briefly, Laura looked thoughtful. “That wouldn’t be very subtle would it?”

“Friday?”

“Yes, Nat?”

“Send Clint a text that Laura expects he and his tongue to be in their suite for the next hour. XoXo Me.”

“Done.”

Laughing, Laura hugged her. “I adore you.”

“I know.” Natasha gave her a squeeze. “Go have some fun.” She kissed her on the cheek. “We got the kids.”

After Laura hurried out, Natasha set the glasses down on the table and glanced around the room. “Friday?”

“Yes?”

“Fireplace, string lights on the ceiling, wreaths, and the centerpiece on the table.” The candle flame hadn’t drifted lower once even with the wax melting along the sides.

“You have an excellent eye, Nat.”

Turning in a slow circle, Natasha stared at it all.

“He really outdid himself.” That explained the new fireplace in the penthouse. “Did he put one of these on my floor?”

“It is entirely possible you will find some alterations made when you return to the Tower.”

A laugh escaped her.

He’d definitely outdone himself.

“Boss also said it is now a demand and Captain Rogers wishes me to tell you that’s three.”

Grinning, she headed for the stairs. Oh, the day just got more and more interesting.

“I bet I can make it to five,” she murmured.

She could probably make it higher if she applied herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings, 
> 
> Quick note. Christmas, as you can tell, has taken several chapters. If I'd done it all at once it would have been huge. It's better to tackle the moments. Once we finish Christmas, I may have to take a brief hiatus of a couple of days, maybe a little longer. As I've said before, I have a lot of deadlines and I want to make sure I meet them all. I'll keep you apprised and no, we're not done with Christmas yet! Thanks as always for reading. Seriously.


	42. Spanked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Christmas winds down, a few surprises and promises unfold.

**Chapter Forty-Two**

_Spanked_

**Steve**

Mario Kart tournaments were not something Steve expected he would enjoy. In fact, the first time he discovered Natasha and Clint playing, he’d followed the sound of their insults. They’d gotten creative in their language and verbal sparring—something he learned later came very easily to the pair of them. Initially, he’d been incensed at the idea of Clint insulting her.

Course, back then, he’d also assumed they’d been together and the idea of any man treating a dame like that—especially one he was supposed to be protecting just irked him. Fifteen minutes into watching the match, however, he’d been hard-pressed not to laugh. Tony had wandered in and then immediately complained they hadn’t invited him. After another hour when Tony finally scored a seat, Natasha showed Steve how to play and that was that.

It was a fun game, nearly as ridiculous as it was challenging. He had to master the drifting system, do his best to maintain a lead by using the boost trick as soon as possible after the race started, pick up plenty of coins and use the slipstream system to get ahead. Everyone had their own style of playing; Clint and Natasha were vicious—with everyone equally. Tony wasn’t much better. Bruce tended to be conservative and Steve played low-key. He had a decent win to loss ratio.

When it came to these tournaments though, it required everyone’s skills. They started at level one, the easiest and they would rotate players for each round, the pairs matching off until one lost. Then they’d rematch, shifting the players around.

It took twenty-five levels before they had their first loss, Lila to Coop. Though her frown was fierce, she didn’t throw the controller and Coop didn’t gloat. Lila did, however, climb into Natasha’s lap for a hug.

“All right,” Tony said with a small smile. “We’re down 4 to 3, that means Coop you can play someone else on their team or tap out to the next pair. And we’ll begin rotating through them until we drop down to three.”

Coop looked thoughtful and then walked on his knees to where Tony sat on the floor and whispered in his ear. Tony glanced at Bucky and then nodded to Coop. Coop grinned. “I’m tagging in to Uncle Bucky.”

“Red,” Tony said. “You’re up.”

Bucky fist-bumped Coop gently then paused in front of Lila and Natasha to crouch and murmur something to her. Lila wasn’t crying but the disappointment in her eyes was crushing nonetheless. Whatever he said warmed Natasha’s expression and her eyes even as Lila gave a little nod. Then she gave him a hug. Lifting her off Natasha, Bucky held her while Natasha stood, then they put her back in Nat’s spot.

The ease with which he handled Lila, and Coop for that matter, never failed to remind Steve that Bucky had little sisters he hadn’t gotten to watch grow all the way up. Natasha’s affectionate smile and ease as she and Bucky dropped to sit on the floor and claimed the controllers made Steve happy. When she’d said this was the best Christmas she could remember, Steve couldn’t disagree. Their family had grown and it had undergone some serious growing pains.

The ring on her finger caught his eye as she leaned slightly, the sway of her body matching the movement of her vehicle. Another sign she was really relaxed. Natasha could play that game sitting absolutely still without a single tell and her heart rate never climbing. Or she could laugh, making motorized noises and snort as she leaned and twisted as if she could fix what the vehicle was doing.

They weren’t actually racing each other, they had their own screens, and it was one on one, but a loss occured when you failed to complete the level. If they got picky, they could run it down to time but no one was in a hurry. Clint and Laura had disappeared and when Natasha sauntered in to join them, she’d given him a playful kiss while looking pleased with herself.

And maybe a little pleased with him.

No, Steve was not complaining.

“Ha!” Natasha said as she beat Bucky to the finish line by a full two seconds.

“Well done,” he murmured and gave her a kiss.

Coop made kissy noises from where he’d gone to sit next to his sister and she giggled. Coop was a good big brother, at least as far as Steve could tell. The kids argued, but he seemed to look out for her when it mattered.

“Pete and Cap,” Tony said, taking a sip of his coffee. “You’re up.”

Rising, Natasha gave Steve another kiss as he traded spots with her. “Get ‘em Steve.”

“Hey,” Peter complained. “What about me?”

“You can do it,” Bucky told him, clapping him on the shoulder. “But I’m not kissing you.”

That earned a louder laugh particularly from Wanda who was curled into a chair with a book though she spent more time watching them than reading.

“I may have to join in next time,” she commented. “Maybe.”

As soon as Natasha returned to the love seat, she had a lapful of Lila again. Steve kept a careful eye on it. Natasha seemed to be handling all of the contact beautifully, but there’d been moments in the last twenty-four hours and he didn’t want her to push herself. Bucky caught his eye as he slid into the spot next to her and nodded at him.

He was watching, too. So far, so good. Their time together had relaxed both of them and Bucky had given her the ring. More, she was wearing it. When he’d shown Steve the ring he’d found, Steve had been impressed. It was beautiful, but subtle and not remotely gaudy or over the top. It was perfect for her. But after The Mandarin...

Steve shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that son of a bitch. Natasha was better. She had the ring on, she wasn’t isolated or bracing for contact, if anything, she seemed more at peace than she’d been in months.

Hopefully, that would last.

As much as he wanted answers for her and Bucky, Steve was dreading Montana.

Actively dreading it.

Peter eeked a second ahead of him, but they both finished the level and tagged out to Tony and Vision. It was another ten rounds before Coop lost to Vision. And they were three and three.

Tony chortled and rubbed his hands together. “We got this Coop. Good game. Good game.”

He flopped on the love seat next to his sister to cheer their respective teams.

Vision went out next, Tony raised his hands and did a little happy dance that Coop mirrored and Vision looked moderately surprised when Lila gave him a hug.

“Thank you for trying.” Then she turned those eyes on Steve and Natasha. They were the last two left.

“Don’t worry, we’re far from done,” Steve told her and Lila’s grin widened.

“We got this,” Natasha said with a wink.

Though now she and Steve tagged out and rotated whom they played and the levels were getting harder. Bucky went out next, much to his own shock and Natasha had to bite her lip as she stared at him. The triumphant grin desperate to break free pulling at her mouth.

“Yes!” Lila cheered then covered her mouth. “Sorry, Uncle Bucky!”

“Fair is fair,” Bucky said with a wry grin as Natasha kissed him gently. “And there, all better.” He was still chuckling when he rose and tugged her to her feet.

They’d been at it for nearly two hours when Clint and Laura wandered back out to join them, carrying Nate. Natasha’s grin when she saw them earned her a discreet middle finger from Clint and Steve laughed as he shook his head.

It took a few rounds, but he finally knocked Peter out and Peter dropped dramatically and Lila was up on her feet cheering.

“Well, well,” Tony said. “It’s two against one.”

“You can handle it,” Natasha told him.

“Oh, I can definitely handle it, Red. The only thing to be decided is which of you two loses first.”

Clint laughed. “We’re going to be here all night.”

“Not going to take that long,” Steve said with a faint grin. Tony narrowed his eyes, not missing the challenge nor had Steve expected him to. The perk of playing Mario Kart here was that Friday varied the levels and graduated them in difficulty.

The next hour proved that other than some hand fatigue, none of them were giving up. The natives were getting restless.

“Tell you what,” Natasha said. “We can call it here as a tie or you two can play one more round, head to head, speed timer counts.”

That snagged attention. Steve eyed Tony and merely raised his brows. “I can do this all day.”

“Yeah,” Tony said with a smirk. “I know.”

“One last round?”

“So Red, you’re tapping out?”

“I’m going to make hot cocoa.”

That got a round of cheers.

“I accept your concession gracefully,” Tony said with a half-bow. “And I will definitely accept the hot cocoa as a token of my winnings.”

Her snort earned another laugh. She ruffled his hair, then Steve’s since they’d all lost their caps at some point during the play. Lila had snagged Natasha’s, and yep—Coop had Tony’s.

Stretching, Natasha wandered toward the kitchen leaving Steve and Tony to their face-off.

“You up for this, Rogers?”

“Bring it on, Stark.”

“You boys play nicely now,” Laura said. “Who wants cookies to go with their hot cocoa?”

A round of “me’s and me too’s” went up, including Tony who raised his hand. “Definitely me. A sweet treat for the winner.”

“Don’t count your winnings yet.” Steve had been debating whether he was really trying to win or not. They’d made the bet _interesting_. Amusing, too. So did he want to win?

They were neck and neck through the whole race as everyone around them cheered. Lila and Coop were the loudest, but even Wanda got in o the shouting as the scent of rich chocolate permeated the air. As they crossed the finish line at the exact same millisecond, there was a collective groan.

“I’m starting to think we’re no longer the favorites,” Tony quipped as he rolled his head from side to side.

“So it’s either a draw or we keep playing,” Steve offered. “Do you want to call it?”

Tony made a face. “One more round. We tie again… we can discuss terms for a peaceful tie.”

Chuckling, Steve shook his head. “Winning is not that important to you.”

“Nope, but it’s also a lot of fun. But if you’re getting tired…”

“No, I’m fine. Like I said, we can do this all day.”

“Hot cocoa!” Laura called.

“We got it!” Lila announced. “Wait for us to get back!”

There was a rush of steps and he and Tony both twisted to see they’d been virtually abandoned.

Sliding a look at Steve, Tony said, “Want to add to the wager?”

With a slow shake of his head, Steve laughed. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

“It’s a curse. Though to be fair… it just amps the excitement. Besides, you know want to. Name it.”

They weren’t going to be alone for much longer.

Steve studied him. “Terms?”

“I win, you do a gallery showing for the Maria Stark Foundation as a fundraiser.”

That was—unexpected.

Tony raised his brows. “You’re good, Steve. You could raise a lot of money. Call it incentive.”

It was also not something he imagined doing. “All right. If I win… you fund a school for the arts for kids who can’t afford a magnet or private school.”

“Done.”

They shook hands just as Natasha padded over with a pair of mugs, she knelt gracefully right between them and handed over the cups. “Your audience is currently placing bets on the winner.”

“Who are you betting on, Red?”

She grinned. “I’m the bank.”

“Put fifty on Cap for me. And fifty on me for Cap.” He lifted his mug. “That way even if I lose, I win and same goes for him.”

“Works for me.”

Natasha glanced from Tony to Steve and then smiled. “Done.” She pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, then nuzzled his beard. “Good luck.” After she pressed a kiss to Tony’s cheek. “Good luck.”

Rising, she accepted her own mug from Bucky as everyone else trickled back into the room.

“Ready?” Steve checked with Tony.

“Oh yeah.”

It took five more races for them to get a winner. There were cheers and groans of relief, but there was also laughter. Especially when Steve excused himself for a minute. When he returned, he’d swapped out his holiday sweater for a shirt that read _Iron Man is My Hero_.

Tony chortled. Then tugged his sweater off—apparently, he’d also changed and his shirt simply said _Captain America is the Man_.

Natasha’s absolute fit of giggles was worth all the quick photos.

And yes, Steve would absolutely add one of he and Tony to the shelf. Even Bucky was laughing.

~~~

A round of Uno followed and it took two decks of cards to accommodate so many players. Vision eventually begged off to go do some reading. Natasha and Clint were particularly vicious, with each other. Though Peter hitting Tony with a Draw Four was a hilarious moment, particularly since Steve had dropped the reverse that sent Peter to play before Tony.

It wasn’t long before it was down to Natasha and Clint and she took the last round with a wicked grin and Clint just sighed.

“Now, I remember why we banned Red from board games,” Tony said idly. Natasha stuck her tongue out at him and he just grinned.

“And on that note…” Clint said as he stood. “Let’s go kids. We need to clean up our stuff…”

“But we weren’t done with all the models,” Coop complained.

“And they’ll be there tomorrow,” Clint reminded him. “Come on, clean up and do hugs…”

Laura was yawning and she wasn’t alone, Natasha smothered one as she pushed up from the table.

“I have the cards,” Wanda said gathering them up with a sweep of her hands and separating them out into two stacks. “It’s good practice.”

“Cool!” Peter said leaning forward to watch. Steve stretched and when Nate tugged at his leg, he scooped the little guy up. Nate patted his cheek and then began to pet his beard. Natasha grinned as she passed by and gave Nate a raspberry on the cheek that made him laugh.

It took a couple of minutes to get everyone sorted. Bucky helped Tony with Coop’s models. They moved a number still setting up over to the dining room table. Then stacked the boxes up. It was still early, but it had already begun to get darker outside. After a solid round of hugs, Clint claimed his son and ushered the rest of his family back toward the guest suite.

Wanda pivoted on the sofa to look at Natasha. “Do you think?”

“Maybe,” Natasha answered her. “Maybe.”

Their shared grins were adorable. Natasha had been rooting for Clint and Laura for a while. For their sakes, he hoped it all worked out.

“Movie?” Tony asked as he poured himself some coffee.

“I think I’d just fall asleep,” Wanda admitted. “I’m going to call it a night.”

Peter’s disappointment had Steve glancing away and he caught the flicker of a smile on Bucky’s face. Peter was definitely nursing a crush. “Maybe next time?”

“Maybe, are you going to be out here tomorrow?”

Dropping to sit on the sofa, Natasha said, “Depends. Friday, do we have a weather update?” Though she glanced at him and Bucky. Bucky held her gaze for a long moment and there it was, the reminder that they were going to Montana the following day.

“The storm’s winds have begun to abate, Nat. Though forecasts show the snow will continue well into tomorrow, there should be tapering off by sundown tomorrow evening. Hazardous condition warnings are still in effect and the airports remain closed. If they can clear the runways, they are considering opening tomorrow morning.”

They needed to check flight paths.

“Then you all are probably safe to head back to the Tower.”

“Probably,” Natasha said, then rose as Wanda turned to her. The hug was fierce and kind of sweet. Then Wanda gave Steve a hug. He gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Merry Christmas, Wanda.”

She grinned. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

She hesitated at Bucky, but he offered her a one-armed hug that she welcomed. When she got to Peter, he looked so damn hopeful and they hugged quickly and Wanda surprised him with a kiss on the cheek.

“Let me know if you can come out tomorrow,” she told him and then she looked at Tony. The two seemed to size each other up and then Wanda offered him a hug and it was tentative on both sides, but there. Natasha was smiling as she turned away to give them some privacy.

Steve could appreciate the effort on both sides. There was some uncomfortable history between the two. Though that could be said for all of them. They’d definitely come a long way. Natasha located her boots and dragged them on. Then it was another fifteen minutes of locating presents and divvying up what they were taking back versus what they were leaving here.

Once aboard the jet, Natasha dropped into the pilot’s chair. “We need to decide about tomorrow.”

“We can decide in the morning, Doll,” Bucky told her. “One more day either direction isn’t going to make a difference.”

Relief shouldn’t thread through Steve at the offer. He wanted answers for both of them, but he didn’t want Natasha to hurt anymore.

“Are all of you going?” Peter asked.

“Probably, Pete. But we can bring you out to the Compound if May is still stuck at work or we can go spring her first,” Tony offered.

“It’s only for a couple of days,” Bucky said, echoing what Natasha had said during their meal. “Three tops.”

“And Wakanda after that?” Peter pressed.

Natasha had the engines cycling up. “I’m thinking we might wait a few more for that.”

That was news to Steve.

“Laura and the kids are only here through the New Year—I don’t want to take Clint away from them.”

And Clint would want to go.

“We’ll figure it out, Red,” Tony said. “I’d say bring them along, but I can’t imagine you want the kids there for that.”

“No,” Natasha said firmly and slipped the headset on. The warm glow in her eyes had been diminishing the longer they discussed this. The whole day had a magical element to it. From the night before right through her grumpiness when Bucky dragged her into a cold shower.

The fact she hit him for it hadn’t seemed to diminish their day at all. Better still, she’d soaked up the attention of her family and hadn’t been put off by all the contact. When she and Bucky came back after their hour, she’d been so soft like all the hard edges had been blunted and soothed.

Even the conversation with Natasha and Bucky about Tony had gone so much better than Steve could have imagined and he hadn’t yet made up his mind on that one. As the quinjet lifted up, he glanced toward the viewport. The lights of the jet illuminated the snow-laden ground, but the snow was mostly falling straight down now. That was an improvement.

Natasha hadn’t insisted on the issue, she’d expressed what she wanted to do and then made her boundaries clear on it. When he said he couldn’t answer right now, she’d accepted that and moved on. It had been refreshing and at the same time…

No, he’d think about it later. They had plans when they got back to the Tower, provided she wasn’t too tired. Plans could be amended, but he had been keeping count.

Tony had his head back and his eyes half-closed. Peter looked ready to pass out and Bucky leaned against the copilot’s seat, his attention split between the viewport and Natasha.

After their bumpy ride out, the return was smooth. Once they landed. He and Bucky gathered up their things as Natasha said, “Can we drop our stuff off and do one thing before we turn in for the night?”

“Sure,” Steve told her. “What’s up?”

“You’ll see,” she stepped down onto the landing pad that wasn’t quite as thick with snow. Friday had apparently done some prep for them.

“Are we all seeing?” Tony asked. They’d all dragged sweaters and coats back on though Tony had left in his armor earlier.

“I don’t mind,” Natasha said as she let herself into the penthouse, then held the door for them. Tony dropped his loot onto his coffee table. The fire burned merrily in the fireplace and all the lights twinkled. Steve studied the fireplace for a beat. After what Tony did at dinner, he had to wonder about it. Natasha led the way to the elevator, stripping her parka as she went. There was a lazy prowl to her steps, like she was both tired and ready to hunt in the same breath.

Maybe she was. God knew she’d been holding it together for all of them. She’d insisted they do something fun and it had been entertaining—except for the reporters hurling questions at them outside of the ballet. She’d pushed herself to reach out, wanting to be closer, and she’d given them an open window to her reactions.

Frankly, the whole whatever they wanted and her letting them be in charge had been a headier experience than he’d expected. There was just something about her letting him take care of her that he would never not want.

They stopped at Natasha’s floor to let Pete drop his stuff off and he would have left his jacket on the sofa with his presents, but she told him to bring it. She only chuckled when he said, “I’ll clean it up later, I promise.”

On Steve’s floor, he and Bucky dropped off their collection of items—and Steve did a double-take at their new fireplace—before the elevator descended all the way to the garage.

“Shocking, I say,” Tony teased as she led them out into the chilly garage proper. “There are cars here. Who knew?”

“Hush,” Natasha told him and flicked her fingers at him as she beckoned to Steve and Bucky. “I have a present down here I didn’t get to give you two earlier.”

“Oh, cool,” Peter said.

Tony looked intrigued as he folded his arms. Garage meant vehicle, probably.

Natasha got them a car?

When she led them back behind the last SUV in the line, there was a large dark tarp covering something.

“Sorry, that was the best I could do for wrapping.” For a moment, her smile grew and she gripped the edge of the tarp, then ripped it back in one move and Steve paused. Bucky, on the other hand, exhaled sharply.

“Bikes.” He prowled over to the black and silver one. They were sharp-looking, the bodies strong and designed for their weight and more for maneuverability. While they weren’t specifically cruisers, it looked damn comfortable to ride.

“Holy crap,” Peter said. “Really friggin’ nice bikes—those are electric, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Natasha said.

Tony frowned and he began circling the red bike. “What’s the power rating?”

Bucky was already pulling part of the covering open even as Peter leaned in to get a look, too.

Natasha smiled and looked at him. Steve let what the others were saying fade as he moved over to run his hands over the bike. He swung his leg over and settled on it. It fit him near perfectly—or at least he assumed the blue one was his. The handles felt good in his grip and Tony had one of the sides of the red bike open.

“There’s room in here to change out this charging station for one with a miniaturized arc reactor. Then you wouldn’t be limited by diminishing charge.” Tony clucked his tongue. “Baby Girl, let’s do an inventory of what’s in storage, we may need to do some modifications.”

“Want to get a good look at the brake handling,” Bucky said. “It’s got dual braking, and there’s a slide here.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. We need to get the specs on the bike so you can go over it.” Tony adjusted his glasses and pulled out his phone.

“I have the specifications on file, Boss as well as the special modifications, Nat requested to go with them.”

Almost as one, the other three glanced at her, but Steve hadn’t taken his gaze off her once. The simple pleasure in her eyes arrested him.

“Doll… this is… I love this.”

She grinned wider.

“I know they’re not _for_ me, but I’m going to fix these up…” Tony started and then Bucky cleared his throat. “_We_ are going to fix these up. Make sure you can overcharge for speed, maximize energy and all the toys.”

Natasha laughed.

“If you don’t mind,” Tony said and his expression said please don’t mind. Even Steve had to chuckle as he stepped off his bike and walked over to wrap his arms around her.

“I don’t mind,” Natasha said quietly. “I was going to ask about the arc reactors.”

“Excellent,” Tony said straightening. “Okay, we need coffee and tools. Coffee and tools. How maneuverable are these babies?”

“How so?” Bucky asked him.

“We load them in the elevator and take them up to the lab. Music, tools, toys and coffee.”

Steve caught Bucky’s eye and glanced at Natasha then nodded to the elevator. It was cold down here and she might be enjoying this, but if those three were going to tear the bikes apart and put them back together, Steve was going to steal her away.

“Give me a sec, Peter and I can probably just put them in the elevator.”

“Oh, true.” Tony slid his phone into his pocket as Bucky strode over to them.

“Lemme have her,” he murmured and Steve let her go so Bucky could sweep her into a hug. She laughed as he gave her a kiss. “Thank you, Doll. I love it. Soon as we have good weather, we take them out for a spin, yeah?”

“I’d like that,” she said and Steve nodded. He couldn’t agree more.

“I can get one of them,” Steve said, but Peter already had his bike lifted.

“I got it.” He paused next to Natasha and gave her a kiss on the cheek and she returned it as well as giving him a careful hug. “Do you think when I get my license there might be one of these for me to rebuild, too?”

“Anything’s possible,” she told him with a laugh.

Tony tapped his ARC reactor and his armor unfolded over him and he picked up Natasha’s bike and paced over to her. “Merry Christmas, Red. Thanks for letting me play.”

She chuckled and gave him a light brush of a kiss to his jaw. “Thank you, but I didn’t intend for you to dive in tonight.”

“No time like the present.” He winked before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “See you two tomorrow. Bucky, Friday will tell you which lab we’re in. Lots of work to do.” Then he was off. All manic energy.

Alone, Natasha blew out a breath. “They’re going to collapse at some point.”

“Don’t worry about them, Natalia. I’ll look after them.”

She glanced from Bucky to Steve. “You guys really like them?”

“Oh yeah,” Steve admitted. “I’m not as excited as the mechanics and the engineers in the room.” Bucky actually flushed and Steve’s grin widened. The fact he was thrilled to get to work on and develop those skills again was the kind of thing Steve hadn’t thought he’d see again.

“Definitely,” Bucky told her. “So you and Steve go have some fun. I’m going to take that apart and put it back together and I’ll inspect anything we do to either of yours.”

Her smile softened. “You’ll make sure they’re safe.”

“Damn straight.” His expression firming, Bucky met her gaze. “Tomorrow will be here soon enough. Tonight I want you to stop worrying about it.”

So, he’d seen it too.

“Let Stevie take your mind off of it, all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” she deflected, but Steve slid an arm around her waist and tugged her to him.

“That’s six,” he murmured and her grin grew.

“Yes,” she made an excited little fist pump and he raised his eyebrows “I bet myself I could get past five.”

Steve snorted and Bucky brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “Go on, I’m going to wrangle the sleep-deprived. And I’ll find you both in a couple of hours.” He got the bike into the elevator and rode up with Natasha and Steve as far as Tony’s bigger lab where Friday let him off. The noise level was already high and Tony waved at them as the doors slid closed, the quiet suddenly swamping them.

Wrapping his arms around her, Steve rested his cheek against her hair. She leaned into him as the elevator ascended. “Privacy mode when we reach my floor, Friday.”

“Of course, Captain Rogers. Goodnight to both of you.”

“Goodnight, Friday,” Natasha murmured.

~~~

There were still a few presents under the tree, but Steve ignored them and the new fireplace—thank you Tony—as he caught Natasha’s hand and turned her to face him. “Tell me the truth, how tired are you? Today has been—exceptionally long.”

“And exceptional,” she murmured. “I had a lot of fun today and I’m not that tired—especially now that we’re alone.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. You?”

He grinned. “Not even a question for me, Angel. I had an amazing time. Whether it was here last night or at breakfast this morning.” He glanced at the watch, then at her bracelets and then the ring before he tugged his dog tags out of her sweater. He could just stand here all night looking at her and at the same time. “But having you all to myself? Yeah, that’s pretty damn perfect. But I have a couple of things I want to show you and I want to talk to you about before we play.”

When her nostrils flared on the last word and she licked her lips, he trusted her description of not being tired. “What do you want?”

Those four simple words should not send such an uncomfortable amount of lust crashing through his system. Utterly aware of her, he didn’t miss the dilation of her pupils or the way she stared up at him.

“Bedroom,” he said. “I want you in_ my_ bedroom.”

Her smile grew as she padded backward. “Just in the bedroom?”

Canting his head, he followed her. “Are you trying to get into trouble?”

“Well, seven is a lucky number.”

Laughter funneled through his lust and he shook his head. “Angel, do you really enjoy the spanking idea that much?”

“Oddly, yes,” she told him without an ounce of reservation or even a hint of shame. “I’ve never had…lovers I could trust like this.”

That single admission buoyed him as he closed them into his room.

“James asked me that question earlier and I told him it hurts, but it doesn’t. With every sting, there’s this focus and all the noise fades away, then there’s the heat that just makes the pleasure so much more. After, I’m floating and it’s peaceful and euphoric. It’s endorphins, sure. But it’s also you and it’s him and it’s the fact I know you seem to enjoy it, too.”

The last held the barest hint of question. “I’m learning more about myself every day.”

“Like you enjoy watching me with James, but you also like participation?”

His cock gave a little pulse at that description. “Yes,” he admitted, though there was some heat on the back of his neck. Not as much as there used to be. “You and Bucky together are really hot. Sharing you with him is, too, but I like having this time with you. When it’s just us.”

“Me, too,” she admitted and that satisfied something deeply primal in him.

“Good,” he said, then pointed at the bed. “Sit please.”

She arched her brows.

“Yes, you get pleases right now, my hour starts _after_ we discuss a couple of things.” He wanted to go over some specifics, especially if they planned to do this at all and see what they both liked.

He stripped out of his sweater. “Friday nudge the heat up in here a couple of degrees and resume privacy mode.”

Natasha tugged off her boots then pulled her legs up to sit crisscross when he pulled out his phone.

“When Tony and I went to the Jack and Jill shop,” he said and managed to keep his voice even. “We discussed hard limits.”

She didn’t laugh at him, not even a hint of a smile. Instead, she tilted her head and gazed at him steadily. For just a moment, it took him right back to their night in Niagara, when she’d set the tone and been completely open with him. Not once had she made a joke of his inexperience or his questions. She might tease him in the field and over meaningless things, but never this.

“Not that I was aware of what those were.” Tugging his phone out of his pocket, he pulled up the message from Friday. “Now I’m pretty sure I know what some of your limits are… never bind your wrists and right now, being on your stomach might be a problem.”

“Maybe,” she said slowly. “The first definitely, you can tie my arms but not the wrists themselves.” She held up her wrists to show him the bracelets. “I can barely tell I have these on.”

Because Tony had taken that into account. Good man.

“Good.” He held his phone out. “Friday sent me this list, she said it’s a fairly standard contract and she stripped out Tony’s answers, so I’m sorry I didn’t get you that piece of intel.”

For the briefest second, Natasha’s eyes rounded and she had to bite back a laugh. “Dorogoi, if you brought me a list of Tony’s sexual limits and interests, I’m not entirely sure I’d trust you were you.”

“Thank you for that,” he said, dropping to sit next to her.

“Do you want me to just go down the list for you?” The frank openness in her eyes threatened to mesmerize him. “You’ll answer, too?”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I’m more a Dominant, I think. Not sure I’m keen on the idea of master or slave.”

“Definitely and I am no slave, but I don’t mind being submissive. It’s actually kind of nice.”

That sent a wholly decadent sensation up his spine. “You’re definitely bisexual.” It wasn’t a question; she’d made that clear.

“Hmm-hmm. And you’re?”

“Is it bi-curious if I don’t mind Bucky being there?”

“That’s just being open, bi-curious would be if you wanted to kiss James or get him off.”

He made a face. “I’ve felt him when we’re…”

“Making me the super-spy filling in your super-soldier sandwich?” There it was, just the barest hint of teasing and he laughed.

“That’s definitely seven,” he told her and her smile just grew. “Keep it up and I’ll make it eight.”

“Can’t wait,” she said and some of the tension went out of him.

“But yeah, I feel him through you and it’s hot then, but not really what I’m looking for. I’m pretty attached to your breasts and your cunt, though I gotta admit, I really like your ass.”

“Why thank you, Captain.” She winked. “So straight.”

He nodded. “Straight it is.”

“That just means if I ever found a girl we could both enjoy you could see if you were curious.”

“And I am so not ready for that,” he said firmly.

“Damn, and here I was going for eight. Need to up my game.”

Steve threw his head back and laughed. She bumped his shoulder as they got to the next question. Still smiling, he said, “I’m guessing polyamorous or it doesn’t matter?”

“Well for me,” Natasha said slowly. “But you’re more of a monogamous guy.”

“And I’m still okay with you and Bucky, so we’ll go for the numbers two or three for both of us.”

She grinned and his heart squeezed. “Thank you.”

Simple acceptance shouldn’t require thanks, but he nuzzled a kiss to her cheek. “You’re welcome.”

The next page, however, had a massively long list.

“I’m going to be honest, if we don’t know what it is, the answer is just no.”

She grinned. “That’s fair.”

It took a good fifteen minutes to go through them. Anal, blindfolds, biting, breast bondage and soft bondage were all yeses. Natasha indicated that hard bondage could be an option depending on how much they both enjoyed it. Absolutely no branding or abrasions. Caning was right out, but Natasha suggested they experiment only when he was comfortable.

It was a solid no on breath play from both of them. She had no problem with him choosing her clothing or lack thereof—collars were a debate. Corsets, which he had no doubt she would look good in, were also fine.

“No wrist cuffs,” she said. “We already established that. Ankle cuffs—” When she paused, he studied her. Her breathing had sped up a little.

“Are a definite no.” There’d been a shackle on her ankle in some of those videos. For a moment, all he could see was her struggling to breathe, the long chain and silver shackle keeping her trapped.

Cool hands on his face brought him back to her and he found her kneeling next to him, his phone on the bed. “Definite no,” she agreed, gently stroking his beard. “Still with me?”

“Always,” he whispered as he slid his hand up to wrap on her nape and she rested her forehead against his. They sat like that for several minutes and then he shifted her onto his lap to finish it, needing to hold her.

Anything that sounded like actual torture or a medical exam was just an instant no. Exhibitionism—they’d save for when Bucky could be there. Natasha had no issues with it in front of a limited audience.

The sheer volume of things other people could find sexually stimulating astounded him. After she explained fisting, he said no on principle alone. Fire play and electric play were out, he didn’t know enough about the first to avoid hurting her and the second was too close to a trigger. Just no.

Following orders, yes. Slapping her face, no for both of them. Flogging, earned a flare of interest from her and that surprised the hell out of him, but she said they could be curious.

Fair enough.

He’d actually picked up the soft leather one he’d found more to show her than anything else, but he tucked the thought away for future play.

Humiliation, hell no. Forced anything, no. Orgasm denial, well sure, massages—getting or giving—both yes. Nipple clamps. Natasha frowned. Maybe. But they might have to work up to that. Fine by him.

Kneeling intrigued him and she’d caught that. So she marked curious. That sent a rush of blood flowing south.

Over the knee spanking. She’d just raised her eyebrows at him and then glanced at his lap and back up at him. Sure, why not?

The blatant interest just made him laugh.

Roleplaying and interrogation were too much like her day job, which was one way to put it.

Suspension. That intrigued him and they marked it curious but for later and the rest turned into basic no’s. Especially whipping. Again, not interested in damaging her.

When they finished the list, she glanced up and said, “Can you imagine if this was part of the standard psych exam?”

He snorted. “No. I’m beyond delighted that you are being this open with me, I don’t need to share this with anyone else.”

After she put his phone down, she twisted so she could straddle his lap. “Thank you.”

“For what, Angel?”

“For being curious. For this—for doing all this research you’ve apparently been doing.”

“Well, I’m not done. I have a couple of books I’m reading…”

Her mouth dropped open and he grinned. God, he loved being able to surprise her.

“You shouldn’t be shocked, Angel. If I’m uncertain of something, I’m never doing it to you. Your safety and health are first and foremost.” He ran his hands up arms, then tugged at her sweater. “It’s time for this to go. But I have one more thing to show you.”

She shivered, but her sweater was up and off, leaving her in a t-shirt and her yoga pants. Her nipples peeked through the shirt and he had to chuckle, someone hadn’t put her bra back on. Was he going to find it in his room at the Compound?

He rather liked that idea.

With care, he lifted her up to her feet then slid his hands along the waistband of her pants and the panties beneath before he gave them a gentle tug and pulled them all the way down and pressed a kiss to her bared abdomen then to each of her hip bones. She chuckled at the brush of his beard, so he rubbed his cheek against her and her muscles went taut beneath his cheek. Glancing up, he checked her expression. Her dilated pupils and soft smile settled the question. She was all right.

She stepped out of the pants, then tugged her shirt up and off. He glanced at her wrists, then her ring and finally his dog tags hanging between her breasts.

“You look perfect,” he whispered. “I will never get tired of seeing you.” She was so damn beautiful. “Or drawing you.”

“I like it when you can touch me, too,” she answered simply.

“Oh, believe me, Angel. So do I.” As if to prove his point, he settled his hands on her hips and drew her close so he could lave a kiss over her nipple. At this point, his cock was painfully hard but he ignored it. He could wait, he wanted to make this all about her.

A breathy little gasp escaped her and she brought her hand up, but seemed to hesitate about touch his hair. Releasing the nipple with a little pop, he said, “You can touch me, we’re not quite to the _I want_ part of the evening.”

She sank her fingers into his hair and caressed his scalp lightly with her nails. Pursing his lips, he blew a light breath against her damp nipple and it tightened more. Another loving kiss to it before he moved to the other. Her sighs just encouraged him as did the way she rubbed her thighs together, but he kept his hands on her hips.

Finally, he lifted his head because if he kept going, this was going to end too soon.

Rising, he turned her so her back was to the bed and she could face him as he walked to the cabinet on his wall. She made a little groan when he walked away.

“There’s your eight, Angel.”

And her complaint turned to a soft laugh. It wasn’t really worth an eight, but she’d already said she wanted it.

Opening the door, he pulled the canvas out from where he’d put it away when he’d finished and then set it up on the stand where she could see it. Her swift inhale filled him with pleasure. He’d painted _her_. It was from the nude he’d sketched when she’d posed for him that first time, all unabashed and open, soft and heated from being with Buck and sporting his dog tags.

“Steve…”

“This, I painted for me,” he admitted. “I might share it with Buck, but you two are the only ones who get to see it.” Art show or not, this was too personal. Natasha stared at herself.

It wasn’t a masterpiece, but she was spectacular in it. He’d managed to capture most of her sultry expression, the playfulness in her eyes and the faint pout to her lips. Since he’d been sketching in his underwear, she’d been studying—ogling—him as she’d phrased it. Though he could imagine _now_ what had been going through her head.

In his, he’d been caressing all that gorgeous skin. But it had been her face he’d wanted to capture in that moment. Natasha, not a cover, not the mask she showed the world, but the woman she protected under all her armor had been there for him to see and she was exquisite.

“What do you think?” At his low-voiced question, she twisted to face him. Only the faintest of trembling betrayed the effect the painting had on her. Desire, trust, and wonder wrapped around each other in his gaze.

“I look beautiful.” The half-note of a question on the end of her statement tugged at him.

“Yes, you are.” It was how he saw her all the time and yet… “This is you without any cover. This is the woman I see.” He made a point of looking at the painting. “A rare, and exquisite sight.” One he coveted, not only for the release of her innate beauty but because of how she felt—how she relaxed—no artifice.

No walls.

Just Natasha.

His Angel.

When he glanced back, she was on her knees and all the breath backed up in his lungs. Her hands were on her thighs, palms up and open, her chin down and her shoulders back.

“Jesus, Angel…” That… definitely was more than he expected.

She glanced up from beneath her lashes and she smiled. “Still curious?”

“No, it’s a definite yes for me.” It did all kinds of things to his system for her to do that so openly and at the same time, he didn’t want her on her knees. Not all the time and at the same time… “I am going to ask for this again.”

“You don’t have to ask,” she told him. “You can want it anytime.”

That was an open-ended permission. “You know the rule, right?”

“If I trigger or I need to stop, I just say stop.”

He licked his lips and tried to run baseball statistics before he came in his pants just thinking about her. That was not how this evening was going to go. “Anything else I need to know?”

Natasha looked up at him. “It’s all right if I cry.”

Exhaling slowly, Steve zeroed in on her. “Do you need to cry, Angel?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “I don’t necessarily want to. But…”

“You haven’t very much.”

She shook her head. “So it’s okay if I cry…it won’t be you. But this—“ A pause and she licked her lips. “It clears away the noise.”

“All right,” he said quietly, closing the distance and crouching so he was eye level with her. “But if it’s not all right, if you need it to stop…”

“I say stop,” she said evenly meeting his gaze. “I trust you, solntce moya.”

Closing his eyes, he pressed his forehead to hers and stayed there as he got his own emotions under control. That kind of trust threatened to undo him, utterly.

“I love you, Angel.”

She smiled and he pressed his lips to her forehead.

“You know that, right?”

“I do… I love you, too.”

One last brush of his fingers to her cheek, he rose and took a step back. “I want you on the bed,” he said, leaving out any trace of request. The corners of her mouth curved at the command.

Her attention lingered on the painting for a long moment as she stood, everything about her so damn graceful. She walked backwards slowly to the bed. He hadn’t specified how to get there.

On her knees, she crawled to the middle of the bed and settled down on her hip, the whole action giving her this relaxed pose that just emphasized her curves. Only then did she look right at him. That same playful smile hovered around the corners of her lips. God, was it any wonder that he wanted her? Despite everything, she focused on him and on where they were and what they were doing. Holding her gaze, he let her see his approval and his pleasure. Her sigh dragged another smile out of him and he let go of one part of his carefully maintained control.

He was a lucky, lucky man. And he wanted her to know just how much he appreciated her. Mindful of the fact she enjoyed looking at him, he stripped off his clothes—including his Iron Man is My Hero shirt which he gave even odds would end up in Natasha’s closet before long as well as the Captain America one Tony had.

His cock was still rock hard, but he wasn’t quite ready to give in to his greed. First, he wanted to enjoy having her in his bed. Pausing at the foot of the bed, he drank in the sight of her. She curled the toes of one foot in silent invitation, and he grinned slowly. When he didn’t respond immediately, she curled the toes of her other foot and lifted her leg just enough to give him a peek of the pink, damp cunt waiting for him.

Amused, he eased a knee onto the bed. She sucked in a breath of anticipation as he trailed his fingers up her leg—but she didn’t move or pull away—“Think you can handle being on your belly right now?”

She licked her lips. “I can try.”

Tilting his head, he nodded. “Roll on your stomach.”

With care, she complied and it gave him a gorgeous view of her ass. There was dampness already on her inner thighs and he let himself have a smug little grin.

Stroking his hand up her leg, he asked, “How is it?”

“I’m good,” she murmured, twisting to look back at him. “Is this all right or do you want my head down?”

“You have your head however you want… “ He ran his hand up her back and then down to her ass again. “I believe we were at eight?”

“Hmm,” she murmured. “Yes, eight. Though I’ll spot you two.” The smile curling in those words wrapped around his cock and gave it a firm pull.

The woman just had to add a little zing.

“Ten it is.” The soft groan she released at the words promised him she was definitely okay with this. He smoothed his hand over one warm cheek of her ass and then cupped his fingers as he gave her a firm, brisk slap. Just the one.

Her thighs clenched and she angled up onto her elbows and turned, staring at him over her shoulder. “Mean.” Desire sparked in her eyes, and her mouth softened with the hint of a playful smile.

Perfect.

“Oh, I am mean?” He smoothed his hand over the reddened flesh, gliding down between her thighs, but carefully never touching the damp labia even as she fought not to push her hips back toward him.

And oh, was it a fight, her thighs trembled and for the barest moment, he saw uncertainty flicker in her gaze. _Easier to surrender when you clearly draw those black lines, isn’t it Angel?_ Continuing to pet her, he enjoyed feeling the soft skin under his hands and his balls ached at the sight of her bottom trembling under his touch.

When her eyes closed for a moment, he landed a second slap, this one louder than the first but with absolutely no more force. She exhaled harshly and he massaged the cheek to spread out the heat. It was just barely pink, a hint of it after one slap each.

He’d toyed with the idea of using rope—wanting to know if they’d enjoy it, but he still had more research to do. Another dip of his hand between her thighs and she flexed them against his hand. He massaged up to her ass and then up and down, not letting her know and then he landed four more slaps in short order, two to each cheek. Everything in her back went taut and her head snapped up. Steve massaged the heat; her cheeks definitely pink now, the skin flushing a rosy color.

She opened her eyes and looked at him again. The barest hint of tears shimmered in them. Crawling forward he planted a kiss between her shoulder blades “Are you still good, Angel?”

A slow nod was his answer and he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“You want the last four?”

His hand was warm, but he had to know this was okay still for her.

Another nod. “Yes, please.”

The please fucking killed him and he had to swallow back his own groan. Whatever she wanted. He slid his hands down her sides as he sat back and then lifted when he reached her hips.

“Up.”

She rose on her hands and knees, her head down and he knew her body, he’d fought with her in sparring and side-by-side for too long. She wasn’t braced, though he suspected more than a little tension coiled through her. That much was obvious from the ripples in her muscles. Pressing his lips to the reddened flesh of her ass, he trailed kisses down to her thighs and the nuzzled between her legs, a couple of gentle licks.

Her shudder was an invitation, and she had to twist further, curving at the waist so she could keep her gaze on his. God, she amazed him.

“Relax,” he whispered, nuzzling her for another stroke, teasing at her entrance, but never reaching for her clit. She was already so wet. When he straightened, he savored the taste of her on his lips and struck swiftly, the next four swats ringing out as he dropped them evenly. Hands fisted into the comforter, she let out a hiss.

He massaged the heat, spreading his palms against her. “Good?”

“More?”

The little request sent another bolt of lust through him.

“Are you sure?”

One tear fell as she opened her eyes. “Yes.”

“Five more and that’s it,” he told her and she nodded.

“Whatever you want,” she whispered and he groaned. Fuck—fine, she wanted five more. He slid his fingers between her legs and tested her wetness, when he eased two into her to the third knuckle she pressed back against him and he pulled his hand away.

“Hold still.” The order reflexive. She obeyed and warmth flooded him. She was so damn sweet like this. Her thighs glistened with the moisture and he nudged them farther apart until she splayed open for him. At her hard inhale, he knew she expected another kiss and damn if he didn’t want to give it to her—but not when she expected. Instead, he bit down on the inside of her thigh and she let out a low cry. He could taste her on her skin and drawing back, he watched as her cunt clenched with need.

Teasing his fingers against her channel again, he circled it and then began to stroke her clit. Her legs trembled. “Don’t come,” he ordered. “Do you hear me, Angel?”

“Don’t come,” she squeezed out the words on a breathy laugh. “Oh you are mean.”

He chuckled, continuing his lazy strokes as he leaned forward. “Kiss me.” She turned and met his mouth, a low groan vibrating in her throat. It reminded him of what it felt like when she swallowed him deep and groaned. It sent another cord of tension to his balls.

There were so many ways to kiss her. Slow and gentle. Hard and swift. Demanding and coaxing. Now, it was like diving into the depths of the ocean, where the sunlight turned into liquid gold. With every brush of his tongue, she opened further and her fingers dug into the coverlet as her whole body trembled.

Still, she fought her own orgasm for him and when a second tear splashed onto her cheek, he nuzzled a kiss there and retreated.

“Please,” she elongated the word and it stroked through him.

“Hold on sweetheart,” he murmured. And because he couldn’t resist, he drew a finger through the damp folds from her entrance to her swollen, pleading clit. “It definitely pleases me to play with you.”

Her low, pleading sounds turned into a closed mouth scream and he circled her clit with one last stroke until her thighs went taut and she trembled right on the edge of an orgasm. In this, she didn’t disguise her reactions and he drew back to earn another scorching look.

His own need was a raging fever in his bloodstream, and his balls were so tight he might be risking injury, but he was far from done with both of them. His cock thumped against his stomach, hard and tense and as eager for her as he was.

“You ready for me, Angel?” Because even his control had its limits and sweat slid down his spine from keeping himself still for her. Her swift nod was all the response he needed. He stroked his hands down her back and gripped her hips. Her ass was still flushed and pink. He wanted her hair spread over his pillows, and her scent to soak into the sheets.

A part of him wanted to play with her longer or flip her over and eat her out until she screamed. The rest of him simply wanted her, right here, right now and to make sure she knew where she belonged.

But Natasha’s pleasure came first, even with his need threatening to explode his cock. She was definitely ready and it wouldn’t take much to push her over. Not really giving her time to think about it, he found his angle and thrust into her with one, long, slow and continuous push that had both of them panting by the time he sank to the hilt. Then he struck the five slaps in rapid succession as she stretched to take him.

Fuck, he would never be tired of feeling her take him, the tight heat of her sheath, how he had to push to fit his length. When he rocked his hips, pulling out, she started to press back against him to meet his thrust but froze.

“No, Angel, you can move now,” he told her and his voice was thicker and rougher. Being inside of her was the best place in the world.

No more teasing. No more prolonging it. He adjusted the pace, gripping her hips as he began to thrust.

His pace, not hers.

Faster, slower, and then fast against until she thrashed around him and his balls were so hard and tight against his body that he really did risk injury if he pushed them any further. “Come for me, Angel,” he told her and the ripple of relief that went through her was matched only by the fierceness of her response and he let go of the last bit of control as she began orgasm. The hard clamp of her muscles fisting around him coupled with the harsh loss of control in her breath.

The delicious combination had him gasping in turn his own orgasm rushed through him, and he came with a fierce shout. Surrounded by the quiet quakes of her pleasure and feeling replete in a way he hadn’t in a very long time, Steve rolled onto his back, dragging her with him until she draped him, her back to his chest, boneless and soft in her pleasure.

Entwined together, he drifted with her content to hold her until she shivered. The air was cool on her sweat-slicked skin and with a groan, he gave her a kiss and eased her onto the comforter. A quick trip to the bathroom later, he returned with two washcloths, one warm and one cool. He wiped her down gently and she groaned as he washed her and sighed when he ran the cool cloth over her ass. It was definitely red now and very warm to the touch.

The tear marks on her cheeks stopped him, but she lifted her head, peering at him with drowsy eyes and a contented smile. “Thank you,” she whispered, and then yawned. Apology filled her expression. “I’m trying not to go to sleep.”

“You’re welcome, and thank you,” he told her and kissed her temple, mentally adding _for everything about you._ “But you don’t have to stay awake. Go to sleep, Angel.”

“We sleeping in here?” They were in his room and he smiled.

“Hang on.”

He got rid of the washcloths then scooped her up and carried her to her room and getting her tucked in before crawling in next to her.

Exhaustion lay like a heavy weight in his bones, but even as her breathing steadied, Natasha snuggled up to him. He cradled her, content to hold her.

Tomorrow would be there soon enough and it promised to get harder. Anything worth having was never easy.

God knew, she was worth it. Only after he was certain she slept comfortably did he settle and with a hand splayed against her back. With the steady rhythm of her heart under his palm, he drifted off to the steady cadence.


	43. Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last few presents...

**Chapter Forty-Three**

_Bonds_

**Natasha**

Awareness of a warm hand curving over her breast drifted through her hindbrain and flashed against the icy shadows writhing around her. Pain scorched down her side and her eyes snapped open.

James stroked her cheek gently with the fingers of his left hand, his gentle smile deepened as they locked gazes. She was in bed. The hand on her breast was Steve and his deep, regular breaths against her nape told her he was still asleep.

“With me?” James murmured.

A slow nod. “Yes.” She took a deep breath and then released it. She rubbed a hand over her eyes and pushed the hair out of her face. James’ watchful gaze rested on her steadily. “Did you sleep?”

“Some, we sent Peter to bed around one and then Tony and I worked until two when Friday shut off power in the lab.”

Laughter bubbled up and chased the lingering shadows away. “Good, you probably would have stayed up all night.”

“Probably, but then I wouldn’t be right here and that would be a crying shame.” Brooklyn crept into his voice and she sighed when he caught her hand and carried it over to press a kiss to her palm. “Tell me?”

“Just—shadows. The past. The Red Room.” Some of the dreams never changed. “I couldn’t run fast enough. So I turned to fight but…they were insubstantial. I couldn’t hit them and they were going to get around me. Then they’d be a threat to everyone.” To him. To Steve. To Tony and Peter. To everyone.

“They’re gone, Natalia.”

“I know,” she said but without much conviction. “Though I don’t think they’ll ever be gone truly.” Because they would live on her—their greatest achievement. Fuck you Ivan and Madame B. Fuck you all.

“You are not them,” he said steadily. “You are so much more. You always have been.” He stroked his finger over the ring. “Do you want to know about Christmas in Montana?”

Curiosity speared through her unease and she squeezed his hand. “Yes, please.”

“Our first Christmas…”

First. They’d spent more than one together.

“This is our third Christmas then?” For her this was their first, but…

“Fifth,” he whispered. “Five Christmases in thirty-six years. Oh, we were together for others of them but not celebrating it as a holiday.”

“Missions.”

He nodded slowly.

“Our first Christmas at the cabin…” she prompted.

“You were pregnant, five and a half months. You’d been showing for a little over six weeks. The snow outside had grown deeper and I forbade you from going out.”

Her eyebrows raised. “I’m going to guess that didn’t go over well.”

Amusement curved his smile. “No, not even a little. I do believe you called me an ass and an idiot, then strapped on snowshoes and marched outside.”

“You didn’t just drag me back in?” The image fascinated her.

“No, I wanted to,” he admitted. “But I was wary of harming you in any way. I didn’t know what would hurt the baby or not. It was difficult enough for me to have sex with you at first, but you wouldn’t take no for an answer then either.”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed. He sounded so forlorn. “I’m not sorry, I like having sex with you.”

A swift sharp grin cut through his discontent. “That is more or less what you told me then. You would tease me for being too gentle and the one time you worried it was because of your size, I realized I had to be more careful with my reluctance because wanting you was never the problem. You were always exquisite Natalia.”

The compliment warmed her nearly as much as the intensity in his eyes. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, a proper, slow and glorious kiss. She sighed against his mouth and he smiled.

“As I was saying,” he murmured, clasping her hand to his chest as he brushed his nose to hers. He was close enough the hairs on his legs tickled her skin and the warmth blanketing her from both sides eradicated even the sense of chill. “You strapped on your snowshoes and marched out. I had no choice but to follow you. The cabin is tucked into a hill, but the land around it slopes, though you have to climb to get up there. We did not make it accessible to vehicles.”

Not a bad plan on their part.

“I did not want you falling, but you didn’t head for the descent, you turned into the trees and you were carrying the axe.”

Natasha bit her lip to keep from laughing. Exasperation filled his tone. “I sound like a terror zvezda moya.”

“Kotyonok, I never dreamed of a day you didn’t have claws. I just wanted you to be safe. Still, I plucked the axe out of your hand and the look you gave me, so fierce and determined. You said, ‘fine, you may chop, but I’m picking.’”

Another giggle escaped her. What had she been thinking? So many questions he could answer, but so many more that he couldn’t.

“We hiked about a half mile before you began to study the trees. It took me a few minutes to even figure out why you wanted to cut down a tree. We had plenty of wood. I kept us well-stocked.” A point of pride, obviously, but she only smiled as she studied the play of emotions across his face. “Finally, you said… ‘this one.’ You were pointing at a seven-foot spruce. It was covered in snow, thick and covered in snow. ‘This one, James. Cut it closer to the ground if you can. We’ll need to set it in something in the cabin.’”

The shifting expression in his eyes grew solemn.

“I think it was the first moment I realized what you were doing and why, I said, ‘It’s December.’ You looked at me and nodded. ‘They are playing Christmas music on the radio and the program said trees were going up in homes. We have a home. We need a tree.’ Simple as that.” He sighed, dampness in his eyes but he blinked it away. “I cut it down, carried it back and insisted you go inside. We had to decorate it, but we didn’t have much. I remembered stringing popcorn when I was a kid. Popcorn and cranberries. After I hauled the tree inside and we put it in a makeshift bucket. I told you to stay in and I hiked down to where I kept the jeep. I drove two hours to go to one of the bigger towns. Winter meant no one looked at my gloves or my heavy coat. I found fruit, popcorn, string, then there was this whole section of Christmas items, I bought one of everything.” He made a face and she laughed. “I didn’t really know what I was doing. I’d just gotten it all loaded in the jeep when I realized I didn’t have a present for you. Had to get a present.”

He shook his head slowly.

“I was still—struggling with memories. I didn’t remember everything. I couldn’t buy you a new gun or a knife at least not there. I asked and they told me where there were some stores for that. Then the woman at the counter asked me if I was buying for my wife or my girlfriend.” He grimaced. “I didn’t want to compromise you—so I said, my sister. My very pregnant sister. I explained you were frustrated with the weather and couldn’t get out much. She sympathized—showed me some jewelry. None of it was practical. A necklace could be a garrote, a bracelet could snag on something, a ring could too.”

He glanced down and she pulled her right hand from under the pillow and he smiled at the ring.

“Then she suggested something pretty—a scarf or wrap—something you could enjoy and would be able to enjoy after the baby came. Then she asked me what I was getting for the baby… there was food too. I think I spent about four hundred dollars before we were finished and I couldn’t quite fit it all in the jeep, but I managed.”

With gentle fingers, she stroked the hair off his forehead, then cupped his cheek. The rough bristle fresh growth teased her palm.

“It was late when I returned, you were… displeased with me until I began hauling in the bags.” Suddenly his smile widened. “You were surprised, I think, then delighted. I built up the fire and we went to work making the popcorn and stringing it. Took us hours, but we got the tree decorated. We stored the food since we had a whole week before Christmas and I hadn’t thought to bring a recipe book, though there were recipes on the packaging.”

He sighed. “I managed to hide your gift, you didn’t see it. But every morning for the next week, when we woke, the first thing you always did was go out to see the tree next to the fireplace. You would make tea and I would stoke up the fire and we would sit there together.”

Admittedly, she loved a good fireplace. There was something peaceful and comforting about them.

“The day before Christmas, we made dinner—well you prepared the dinner. It was a roasted goose, which the lady at the market had insisted was the best meal for a proper Christmas dinner. Roasted potatoes. Vegetables. Stuffing. Since I’d brought fruit you put apples in the stuffing.” Another bright grin. “That was really good.”

Her stomach growled at the description and he released her hand to rest his palm on her hip and she slid her leg between his aware of his half-hard cock pressing against her thigh.

“It was an amazing meal, Natalia. The goose was dry, but we smothered it in cranberry sauce and that made it edible.”

Natasha laughed.

“The potatoes were crispy and the vegetables soggy. But the stuffing was excellent. I loved every part of it… that night I told you about a Christmas I could remember when I was in the Army. It was probably one of the best evenings we’d spent since we arrived. You tried to get me to dance but I was more content to just hold your hand as you danced around me. After I got you to sleep…I wrapped your present and put it under the tree.”

It was her turn to blink away tears. It sounded kind of perfect.

“We woke early—you were very playful,” he said, smiling and she chuckled. Skating her hand down his chest, she teased her fingers through the crisp hair at the base of his cock. “Exactly,” he murmured. “It took an hour for us to get out of bed, but we were both relaxed. I made you stay in bed until I got the fire up, then you came out with the quilt and I got the water on to heat. That was when I noticed a second present next to the one I’d left you.”

His smile took on a hint of wonder and she curled her hand around his cock, not caressing or pulling, just resting it there and he bumped his hips forward so she began a slow stroke at his request.

“Thank you,” he murmured, though his eyes were equal parts teasing and aroused. “Two presents, you’d snuck out of bed at some point and put a present there for me. I was incensed that I’d failed to notice you move and then I realized, of course, I didn’t notice—it was you.”

The fact he could sleep safely while she was there warmed her. She could sleep safely with them there.

“What did I get you?”

He chuckled, pressing his lips to hers for a soft kiss, then a second, and a third. “You knitted me a sweater.”

“I did—what?” She knitted, she’d had to learn for a mission. Knitting needles were also very useful for stabbing people and they got past most weapon searches. Few people looked at them twice.

“You knitted me a sweater,” he said, delight in his voice. “It was in deep blue, the color of the yarn you’d asked me to get to make blankets for the baby.”

“But I knitted you a sweater?”

“Da,” he said, smile growing. “It was too large—even for me—but it looked wonderful on you when you had nothing else on and I wore it every day except when you made me take it off for washing.”

Natasha laughed softly. She couldn’t imagine. It had been years since she’d needed the skill. Could she still do it? Maybe.

“I loved it. It seemed to truly entertain you how much I enjoyed it.” He sighed. “I only wish…well…”

That was gone now.

“Maybe I’ll knit you another sometime.”

“I’d like that,” he whispered. “But I’m also okay with just remembering it, too.”

“Did I make blankets for Mary?”

“Four,” he said. “Two big and two small. Then you knitted another larger blanket for the sofa so you could wrap up in it when you were up nursing and I was asleep.”

A sigh escaped her.

Another kiss and a deliberate thrust of his hips to get her lazy strokes going again. He hardened gradually and he wasn’t alone in that. Steve’s cock was hard as a stone against her ass and his breathing had shifted. He wasn’t all the way awake, but she had a feeling he was stirring.

“Don’t you want to know what I got you?”

Yes. Desperately. “If you want to tell me,” she said, keeping it light. Better to keep it gentler, lighter. Especially given how much he’d already revealed.

“I wanted to give you something pretty. Practical would have been better—so I did find you a nice hunting knife but I saved it for after she was born. I didn’t want to give you any ideas.”

Natasha bit back a smile. “I’m sure I had plenty on my own.”

“Da,” he said, exasperation back in his voice and eyes wide. “Too many.”

“You still love me, so stop your bitching,” she teased and his grin grew.

“Very much so… anyway…it wasn’t jewelry, but—a music box with a little ballerina inside of it. It was silly and probably not anywhere near as nice as the sweater you made me and still, you smiled. So brightly.” He sighed before nuzzling another kiss and skimming his fingers across her thighs. Her whole body went taut and then soft, anticipation curling in her belly. “You always wound it up and opened it up to listen to and even hummed the tune…and no, I don’t quite remember what it was. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, zvezda moya,” she whispered returning his next kiss as he pressed his lips to hers and held it. Only when he loosened his grip some did she add, “It sounds like a wonderful Christmas.”

“Da—” Another kiss, this one firmer and more demanding and she continued stroking him. Lips pressed against her shoulder and she smiled against James’ mouth.

“Yeah, I know the punk is awake,” he said then sucked on her lower lip. “The only question is if the punk wants to play.”

Another kiss, this time to her nape, then Steve said, “Good morning.” He ground against her ass gently and she sighed. The memory of the spanking from the night before lit another fuse on her desire. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Not interrupting,” James told him, his expression firm. “You in? Or just watching?”

Natasha shivered. There was definitely something to be said about these little discussions. Tilting her head, she glanced back to meet Steve’s warm blue eyes, he gave her a sleepy smile then nuzzled a kiss to her jaw. “You up for both of us?”

Was that even a real question? Her thighs clenched and her nipples went tight.

“That depends,” she said slowly.

“On?” James challenged.

“How fast we can get me ready because…” She gave his cock a firmer stroke. “I’m definitely interested.”

“Preference?” Steve asked, whether it was her or James she wasn’t sure and to be honest, she didn’t care.

“I want both of you, however, I can have you.”

James eased his hand between her legs, his fingers trailing against her labia and all the moisture there. He let out a little groan. “Can you handle the lube and the prep, Steve?”

“Oh yeah,” he whispered against her nape and she let out a little grunt of complaint when he pushed back the covers and the chillier air trailed against her back. “Patience, Angel,” he said before the sharp biting slap landed against her ass and her whole body lit up and but James stole the gasp from her lips as he delved his fingers along her slit and then began to trace her clit.

There were worse ways to start her day.

Holding her mouth captive, James teased her clit with slow circles and never quite adding enough pressure. Her whole body twisted tighter. Her nipples brushed against James’ chest, but it was more light and tormenting than actually giving her what she wanted. The teasing strokes coupled with the pressure of Steve easing his a second finger past the ring of muscle to work her open in between kisses against her shoulder blades left Natasha squirming.

“Sit still,” James murmured, giving her clit a squeeze that had her gasping again. She tried, fuck, she tried but they were stroking her everywhere, but not enough to actually get any friction. When she groaned, Steve smoothed a hand over one cheek as he eased a third finger inside. The warm dribble of the lube and the massage of his hand pulled her focus and then James slid two fingers inside of her and crooked them.

“Fuck,” she muttered as ropes of pleasure turned her focus hazy and she tried to twist free even though they had her pinned. Her grip on James tightened and she gave his cock a pump even she stroked her thumb over his the moisture on the tip of his cock. He bit her lower lip and sucked on it.

“Hang on, Angel,” Steve promised, the bubble of tension expanded unbearably and she panted as he squeezed her cheek. “Need something else to focus on?” The barest hint of an edge in his voice and she wanted to laugh and to scream in the same breath.

There were worse ways to start a day but they were making her crazy, relief was just there, just out of reach and they weren’t letting her have it. James chuckled as she tipped her head back and kissed a path down her throat.

“I think that’s a yes,” he teased, then sucked a kiss against the base of her throat. The sting of it zipped through the competing sensations and then Steve landed a perfect slap, the heat boiled over and she let out a low keening note.

“Dammit,” she swore and there was more laughter from behind her and a kiss to her shoulder as he stroked the heat around her cheek. The push and pull of his fingers weren’t enough nor was James’ and they both knew it.

Pushing up, she twisted so she could meet Steve’s hooded gaze and he smiled lazily. “There she is…”

Before she could complain, he kissed. All tongue, teeth, and sharp little licks that left her dizzy as James sucked a nipple against his teeth and there, almost—fuck they both eased off at the same moment and she shuddered.

“You good back there, Steve?” James asked, easing his fingers free and lifting them up to paint a gloss over her lips as Steve released her.

“Almost,” he admitted, the intensity in his eyes promised it was a tease. They were pushing her and it was amazing, even if she was ready to wrestle one of them down and sink onto one of those very promising cocks they were _not_ using on her yet. Then he kissed her again, licking the taste of her from her lips and she sighed as James painted one of her nipples, tweaking it with a twist. The barest hint of pain sent her floating a little higher.

When she sighed against Steve’s mouth as he traced his tongue over her lower lip, he smiled.

“Now she’s ready.”

A full body shudder rolled over her and James eased her fingers off of him. He was so thick, hard, and curved beautifully. He nudged her leg a little higher and then eased into her with such slow patience, she started squirming again. Hands on her hips kept her still.

Dammit.

Locking her gaze on James’, she smiled. His pupils were blown wide and his lips glistened but he refused to go fast as he gave a couple of shallow thrusts, stretching her wider. Everything was so sensitive, her skin lit up and then there was pressure against her back as Steve replaced his fingers with his cock and she closed her eyes. Between them, they didn’t rush it and she was shaking by the time they were both deep.

A huff of breath and a strained groan from James promised her she wasn’t the only one struggling and for some reason, that settled and soothed her unexpectedly. Steve’s hand shook against her back as he kissed her nape and James trembled as he stared at her, her thigh hitched up over his hip. Side by side, she sighed.

Someone needed to move and yet they were all still. Sliding one arm around to grip James’ hair, she slid the other back to slide her hand against Steve’s hip.

“Someone move,” she whispered. Full and stretched between them was glorious, but that bubble of tension had turned into a ball and left her taut. “Please.”

“You feel good, Angel,” Steve murmured as he shifted and then eased back as James thrust forward. It took them less than a minute to find a rhythm and she rolled between them, every stroke measured as she kissed James and then tilted her head back and met Steve’s mouth. Fierce kisses sprinkled with sweeter ones.

No hesitations. No rush. A slow, steady build and she trembled on the knife’s edge for all of it. Riding the sensations they provoked was different this morning. Their grips were tighter, their kisses more loving, and their thrusts more commanding and at the same time, sweeter as it pushed her higher.

_Oh, right there…_ With every stroke James hit that spot that sent sparks across her vision and Steve amped her higher. The first orgasm crashed over her like an unexpected storm no matter how much she’d be chasing it and she tripped into the second. James slid his hand between them and one brush of his fingers against her clit nearly drowned her in the third.

They pulsed almost in sync as she clamped down on both of them, their groans a gorgeous soundtrack as she spiraled and just floated, held securely even as her vision whited out. Hot, sweaty, and sticky, she didn’t care as she buried her face against James’ neck. They were all still shaking and she didn’t want to move.

Aftershocks shuddered through her and she flexed around them. James hissed, then chuckled and Steve groaned. His voice muffled as he said, “Good morning.”

“It definitely is now,” James agreed and then he ran his fingers through her hair. “Still with us?”

She grunted a sound. It might have been a syllable, but she wasn’t entirely sure she cared. Light fingers stroked down her side. A distant part of her mind said it was Steve even as James ran his fingertips lightly against her scalp. The transformation in his arm’s appearance didn’t change how it felt.

A scrape of teeth on her shoulder, then another kiss. “Angel?”

“Hmm, shh… this is nice. Talk to each other,” she managed to mumble and just sank into the moment. All the shadows were gone, washed a little cleaner. Soon enough, she needed to focus on Montana but right now, she was content to be in the moment.

Her stomach grumbled and James chuckled. “Someone is still hungry.”

“Food sounds good,” Steve commented, his voice still a little rough. “I’ll move in a minute.”

She didn’t want him to go.

“Me too,” James agreed.

“Ugh,” she groaned and dragged her head up. “If you both move then I have to.”

“Sorry, Doll,” James said with a smile that held not an ounce of apology. “Man can not live on sex alone.”

“Pfft,” she teased and he grinned wider. Fisting her hair, he dragged her closer for another kiss even as they both softened. They were going to slip away in a moment and she was sorry to feel them go. “Good way to wake up,” she said in between kisses and then Steve was easing away, but not before he turned her face to his and gave her a deep, thoroughly purposeful kiss.

“Very,” he whispered. “This still good?” He stroked his fingers against her ass, the heat of the earlier slaps a decadent memory.

“Oh, that was perfect,” she promised and he grinned. “You can totally keep a tally if you want. I know I plan on it.”

James laughed. “You just want the excuse to be bad.”

“I like being rewarded for what I’m good at,” she retorted and they both laughed and then James was slipping free of her and Steve scooted off the bed. She kind of wanted to watch him go but didn’t want to look away from James’ eyes. The shower turned on and water ran in the bathroom sink. Then Steve was back with a couple of washcloths.

Fuck those were chilly, but James caught her as Steve cleaned along her ass carefully and then traded off to hold her so James could wipe down her front with the second cloth.

“Mean,” she laughed, the added temperature shift grounded her and at the same time, the loving attention had the word purring out of her.

“Is that a complaint?” Steve teased her. “Already want to get on the board?”

“Maybe,” she said with a grin as they let her roll onto her back and then she was staring up at both of them. Cupping James’ face and then Steve’s she traced their jaws. “But I really want waffles.”

“Just waffles?” Steve asked, a smile on his beautiful mouth.

“Hmm—with strawberries and whipped cream.”

“Aha!” James said with a smirk. “Now I know where Lila gets that from.”

Natasha laughed. “Guilty.”

“Dessert isn’t breakfast,” he scolded, but there was absolutely no seriousness in his eyes.

“It’s the most important meal of the day, so why not start it off with the good stuff like we just did.”

“She has a point,” Steve conceded.

“She often does.” James held out his fist and they Rochambeau’d and she just laughed.

“Rock beats scissors, Punk. You get to make the waffles. I’ll go find the strawberries.”

“But first,” Steve said as he sat up. “We shower.”

And be we, he meant all three of them and they hadn’t done this since she’d come back and it was even nicer. It was easy, simpler, and they traded her kisses for her help soaping their backs and they both took exquisite care in washing every inch of her.

By the time they’d all managed to get clean, she was aching for them again and they had to maneuver a little but she got Steve in her mouth as James slid in hard, fast and fierce. There was no patience or slowness in them, it was all quick heat and fierce coupling, Steve’s protracted _Fuuuuck_ as he came opposite James’ near guttural _Holy Hell_ were probably some of the best things she’d ever heard.

She was still warm and humming when they finally left her to get dressed and went in search of their own clothes.

For a moment, reality threatened the languidness in her muscles, but she shoved it away. Montana had been compartmentalized to after the holidays. She’d been coping with that idea for weeks since she and James talked about it on the island. It left her a way to focus on everything else they had to do.

But the holidays had waned and this morning, they were holding on by their fingernails.

She wanted answers. She _needed_ them.

Montana was just the next step.

~~~

The strawberry waffle was a delight even if they both stared at her like she was a little crazy. The skies outside were lead-gray, but the snow had stopped falling. Friday suggested there would be a break in the clouds later in the day, subways would be open by late afternoon even though there was a worry about falling temperatures and the plows were out doing their damnedest to clear the roads.

Good news.

James and Steve stuck to their pancakes and the lit fire and tree with its few remaining presents added to the ambience. “We need to do those,” James motioned. “Before we go.”

“Hmm…” She glanced over and then grinned. There were a few of hers still under there for them. “Yes. After food?”

It was barely seven, despite their morning play and long shower, it was hardly late. Montana was a few hours behind them, too. The flight would take them time. She needed to text Isaiah as well, though she had finalized the verbal authorizations. There was one electronic signature he needed. Everything else was done.

The guys would have access to her accounts, information network, and safe houses. She should have made sure it was done months ago, but it would be fine now. Their trusts were set up, even Tony’s, not that he needed her money or would be particularly interested in it. No, for him, she’d left something else entirely. The money in the trust he controlled would go to Peter. Tony would have control until Peter turned twenty-two. Though Peter would be able to access it as long as Tony signed off. Wanda’s trust had been set up the same way, with Clint overseeing it as he would his own kids’.

She’d factored in several what-if scenarios. But for now, it was only important that it was done. After breakfast and presents, after the last waning moments of the holiday were done. She’d take care of it.

“About Montana,” Steve said, but James shook his head.

“After.” He nodded towards Natasha and she smiled.

“After presents,” she agreed, not quite willing to part with the floating feeling no matter how swiftly she was descending to Earth. The sense of urgency she’d put off for weeks wouldn’t be refused much longer.

“After presents,” Steve agreed and then he nudged her thigh. “You want more coffee?”

She’d almost finished her waffle and she glanced at her nearly empty mug. “Yes, please.”

By the time they’d finished food and poured new cups of coffee, there was a quiet anticipation coiling in her stomach. It was the same feeling she got before any mission. The one that told her she was ready to go in and get it done. But moments like this were important.

The fireplace amused her. There was heat and a crackling, but the hologram was near seamless. She really had to congratulate Tony on that.

“Natalia starts,” James said.

“And at some point, I get the story of second Christmas in Montana?”

“Yes,” he promised. “But later, presents now?”

She grinned and after setting her coffee down, she began to pull the boxes from under the tree, dividing them up between the three of them. There weren’t that many but she was rather proud of some of these.

Four of them were labeled for both Steve and James.

“You open two and I open two?” Steve suggested.

“Sounds like a plan,” James answered smoothly, but threw her a curious look. She curled up with her mug of coffee in her hands and waited patiently.

Steve opened one and promptly burst out laughing. “Seriously, Angel?”

Leaning over, James eyed it and then her. “Not sure whether that’s a gift or an insult.”

It was an auto pancake maker, they could load the batter in one end and just turn it on, and it would cook until it had made all of the pancakes and they rolled out the other side.

“It’s not an insult,” she promised. “But you two are forever making pancakes for everyone. At least this way you can do other things than babysit the griddle.”

With a snort, Steve eyed her. “What if we want to babysit the griddle?”

“I’m not going to stop you. But it also comes with stencils.”

“Stencils?” James reached for the box, but Steve flipped it over and they both stared and then gave her a _look_.

Simple joy threaded through her.

They could make Avengers pancakes.

“For those days when you really feel like eating someone’s face.”

James laughed, leaning into the side of the chair, shoulders shaking. “The only Avenger I want to eat, Doll, is you and I don’t plan for it to be your face.”

Heat flushed through her and she grinned. “Well, I’m always available for that.”

Another shake of his head and Steve said, “I’m going to stick with normal pancakes unless we’re making them for the kids.”

“Lila and Coop would like that. But you better make Captain America for Nate. He has his preferences.”

The red flush to Steve’s ears added to her delight.

James opened the next box addressed to them and the sudden smile on his face was worth the effort she’d gone to procure it. The multi-station game system would allow them plug in their favorites from all the platforms. Friday had it made to match the one in the Common Room. Now they had it for this floor.

“You really like Mario Kart,” James teased.

“Expert level, but I like other games, too.” Another sip of coffee as James turned toward the television and carried the system over. “It has four controllers. We can always add more.”

Steve shook the next box. “I’m going to bet this is games.”

“Are you trying to cheat, Cap?”

“Intelligence gathering is not cheating,” he teased.

Natasha let out a happy sigh. “I have taught you well my young Padawan, you should pass on what you have learned.”

Laughter echoed from both of them as Steve slit it open and carefully unwrapped it. There were literally dozens of games inside of it from several different systems.

“Damn, Doll,” James exhaled as he glanced over while Steve pulled out the various titles.

“There’s about thirty years of games in there and that’s not all of them, but the ones I liked best,” she admitted. “I figure we watch movies from all the decades, you should appreciate playing your way forward, too.”

Excitement crept into Steve’s eyes. “This is Tomb Raider.”

“The original,” she said. “There are a few follow-ups, there’s also Donkey Kong and the original Super Mario Brothers from 1985, terrible graphics but groundbreaking at the time.”

Not that she needed to keep explaining. James had abandoned the set up to peer into the box with him. They were like two excited boys and delight unfolded within her.

There was still one more box for the two of them, but she could wait while they sat there and organized the games by dates.

“We need to set up a game night,” Steve said authoritatively. “That way we can take the time to work through these.”

“Definitely,” James plucked one out and eyed it. “Crash Bandicoot—the little guy looks insane.”

Natasha laughed.

It was definitely fun. There were other games, too. Sporty based ones including…

“Baseball. They made a baseball video game?” Steve asked as he and James eyed her skeptically.

“They’ve made a lot of sports games. That’s just a couple for you to try.”

Rising, James leaned over and kissed her soundly. “Thank you, Natalia.” The quiet excitement in his eyes was more than thanks enough. Though she wasn’t opposed to kissing. Steve delivered his after he slid the box of games onto a lower shelf next to the new system.

“Yes, thank you, Angel.” He brushed his knuckles down her cheek and then settled on the edge of the coffee table as James retrieved their last shared present. He gripped the paper and ripped it open, then flipped the box lid up. Inside were more records—old ones, new ones—broken up by decades.

The ones on top all dated from the 30s and 40s, specifically. Then more for each subsequent decades. All music they hadn’t had in Steve’s constantly growing collection. She’d beefed up the rock offerings after James’ purchase at the shop.

That earned her more than one kiss.

“You’re spoiling us,” James told her then frowned. “And now I’m starting to feel like I didn’t get you near enough.”

“Nope, I get to spoil you because it’s a treat for me, too. I get to see you discover and enjoy.” She lifted her hand with the ring on it. “You gave me you, I’m more than happy with my presents.”

He eyed her. “Natalia…”

“Ahh,” she said, holding up a finger. “You let me do this James without guilt or doubt. I love being able to do this for both of you.”

“Very well,” he murmured, then studied the presents. “I will just get you more things later.”

Steve chuckled. “We don’t need a holiday to get you something.”

“And Valentine’s is coming,” James reasoned.

“Your turn,” Steve said motion to the presents stacked next to her. “C’mon.”

“You two still have presents left,” she argued. “So you open some, too.”

They both just stared at her so she rolled her eyes and opened one. There was a henna tattoo kit inside it and a note—_For when you want me to tattoo our names on your ass. Love Steve._

She burst out laughing and Steve grinned.

“Nice,” James told him and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Does this mean I can tattoo mine on yours?” She raised her brows.

“Absolutely,” James told her and Steve just laughed.

“I don’t see why not,” Steve murmured. “We’ll have to redo it periodically, but I couldn’t resist.”

The idea of Steve drawing all over her held a lot of appeal. “We’re going to have to experiment,” she said. “Definitely mark this as curious.”

“Agreed,” he said and his eyes heated.

“Curious?” James asked glanced from one to the other.

“Oh, we need to debrief you.” Natasha grinned. “Later, we have a questionnaire for you to go over.”

He shrugged. “All right.”

“It’s a sexual limits questionnaire,” Steve explained. “Hard, soft, and curious.”

“Ahh.” Then James’ smile grew. “I get copies of your answers, yes?”

“Yes,” Steve said. “We marked them on there. So you can add yours.”

“Excellent.” He rubbed his hands together like some kind of villain from a cartoon. “That will fit nicely for future plans.”

His eagerness licked over like its very own caress.

“Open yours,” she told him, motioning toward the boxes.

“Ah,” he said, picking up the next one in her stack. “You first. We had four already.”

Setting the henna aside, she pulled open the present and then stared down at the gleaming wooden box. Coiled tension vibrated around James and she lifted the engraved with a kind of lily. Inside, was all the gears of a music box and it began to play _Music Box Dancer_.

“I couldn’t find one with a ballerina,” James admitted. “Not one that wasn’t cheap or flimsy, but the song in this one fit you.”

He’d gotten her another music box. With the story so fresh in her mind, she couldn’t help but smile. She’d have to dance to this for him. “I love it,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

Next up was a book on modern art for Steve and one on erotic art. After seeing the painting the night before, she was doubly glad she’d found it. There was also a multi-use pocketknife from James to Steve that earned a lot of grins and nostalgia. Apparently, Steve had always wanted one once upon a time.

There was a pair of baseball gloves and a ball for James, which they both had to try on and immediately began tossing the ball back and forth.

The edible paint for Steve snagged both of their interest and Steve eyed her thoughtfully. “I’m definitely going to want to try this out.”

“And I want to watch…if not play,” James admitted. “Maybe not the first time since it’s your present…”

“First time is fine, Buck,” Steve said and James’ grin grew.

James frowned when he opened a box and inside was the Princess Leia slave outfit. “Really, Stevie?”

“Hey, you were the one who sent me to the sex shop. There’s your gift for Natasha to wear.” That got him a smirk and Natasha laughed.

The gifts were simple, but thoughtful and most of them were fun. Soon they’d opened the last of them; there was a mound of paper to clear away and a lot of laughter. As immense as the joy was, they’d also reached the official end of their holiday sojourn.

“Clean up and then I need to make a couple of calls before we finalize our plans?” she suggested. “We also need to wake up Tony and let Clint know, maybe we can talk him into staying.”

“Maybe,” James told her. “But he wants to be there for you, even if they are waiting at the airport with the jet while you and I go to the cabin.”

“About that,” Steve said as she gathered the paper. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What?” Natasha asked. “Clint not coming?”

“No—the staying at the airport part.”

“It’ll be fine. You’re close enough and I told you, Natalia and I need privacy for this.” James moved to collect more of the trash as well. “Some things are still private, Stevie.”

“I know they are,” Steve said slowly. “But hear me out…”

“Steve,” Natasha said, pausing mid-gather. “I know you want to be there for us and I love you for it…but James is right on this one.” It was going to be hard enough walking in there with James. She didn’t want an audience, not if it crashed every wall she had down. It was one thing to brace for disaster, but she had no idea what she was going to feel walking in there. James had been there, he knew some of it.

With a sigh, Steve said, “I get that. I’m not saying we go in. I’m saying we just go straight there, park next to it, we can put the quinjet in stealth mode, you won’t know we’re there. But we’ll be _right_ there.”

Yes. They would be. There would be no way to ignore that. Close enough to monitor visually and audibly.

“Natalia,” James said slowly. “You said you needed to make a call? Why don’t you do that and wake Spider-Punk while Stevie and I sort this out?” They still had to make arrangements for Peter and check on May. But James wanted to talk to Steve alone. She got that, too.

She raised her brows and glanced from one to the other. “Okay,” she said equally slow. The last thing she wanted was a disagreement. “But we sorted this out.” The last she said to Steve. “We’re not cutting you out…”

“No, Angel, I know that and I respect that you two need the time. Go on, seriously, go make your call and nudge Pete. We need to see if Tony’s awake, too.”

She could take care of that. Still…

After putting the paper in the recycle bin, she walked back and cupped Steve’s face. He smiled up at her, then sighed when she kissed him. “Thank you,” she said. “For last night—for the last few weeks, for all of it.” He had to know she appreciated everything.

“You are always welcome and thank you.” He gave her hips a squeeze.

Then she turned and gave James a hug. He pressed his face against her neck. “Go on,” he whispered. “You’ll feel better as long as you’re active.”

It shouldn’t surprise her that he knew her so well. Restlessness had already invaded her system. The part of her mind that compartmentalized Montana for so months was done now. They needed to go. She needed her answers.

“Okay. Be nice, okay?” The last was a hushed word even aware Steve could hear them.

“I’m always nice,” James told her with a wink, then dropped a kiss on her lips before giving her ass a pinch.

She laughed and slapped his ass in retaliation. Gathering up her gifts, she carried them back to her room and then grabbed her phone. They were still straightening as she sailed toward the elevator, neither one of them looking at the other.

Apprehension snuck through the battlefield where her restlessness had turned her lassitude into a rout. Locking gazes with James, she studied him for a beat.

“See you in a few.” Please don’t make this a thing. She flicked a look toward Steve, with the same message. He gave her a small nod, but their focus wasn’t really on her, she could almost see the shifting lines of tension. From warmth and fun to guarded wariness.

“Take your time,” James reminded her, but she heard the request there, too. They needed time to talk. “You’ll feel better if it’s all done before we go.”

“True.” She understood, and then blew them both a kiss. The elevator doors opened and she slid inside. Restlessness aside, it had been a glorious morning. But there had been a thread there at the end…

“Good morning, Nat,” Friday greeted her.

“Good morning, Friday. Are Peter and Tony awake?”

“No, they are not. Boss did want me to wake him in about fifteen minutes.” It was almost eight-thirty. “Peter hasn’t moved since he went to sleep.”

“Okay, I’ll go wake Peter and then you get Tony… actually, take me up to the penthouse. I’ll start Tony’s coffee before I go down and wake up Peter.”

“Of course, Nat. Thank you, Boss will appreciate the caffeination.”

She chuckled. Who didn’t?

When she began tapping her foot, she shook her head. Discipline calmed her heart and focused her breathing. Better.

“Friday?” she asked as the doors opened to the penthouse. “Can you put together a full weather report and check all flight paths to Montana? I don’t want any surprises.” If a massive storm made travel difficult or there was an issue, they needed to prepare for it, right?

In the penthouse kitchen, she got the coffee started. It had been cleaned of its debris from the day before. The main living room was still dark, the windows at less than 20 percent and the sun’s continued absence from the skies not helping.

The fireplace was dark, but still there and the tree was lit and cheerful. Even as she looked at the fireplace, flames flickered to life and she grinned. While the coffee brewed, she called Isaiah. He answered on the first ring.

“No,” he said by way of answer.

“Aww, you don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

“It’s not even nine, some of us have the day off,” he complained.

“Well I need to digitally sign the changes and you can go back to having your day off.”

A long-suffering sigh. “Why do I put up with you?”

“Twenty percent off the top and I saved your life.”

“There is that,” Isaiah commented. “Fine, you do realize when you sign this, you’re splitting the investments several different ways now.”

“Well, I trust you to keep making me money.” She opened the fridge and looked at what Tony had that she could stick in so there’d be food. Cinnamon rolls.

Ha.

She pulled out a couple of the tins out and flipped the oven over to heating up.

“And I will continue to make you money. There’s rumor of a stock split coming to Stark, so I just picked you up a few hundred more shares.”

“Yay?” She didn’t really care where all the money went. But at the same time. A few hundred shares? Tony owned the majority in his company, but it had a board of directors and stock splits were good things right?

“It’s definitely a yay. I’m transmitting the document now, there’s only one last decision you didn’t include if you were changing or not.”

“Which is?”

“Medical power of attorney.”

Clint had it now.

Natasha sighed. “Leave it unchanged.”

“Are you sure?”

Considering she just left James and Steve about to have an argument they didn’t want her to hear. Yes, she was sure. “Yes.” If they had to debate her care—that would put them in an uncomfortable position with each other.

“Got it.”

Her phone buzzed.

“You should have it, can you have someone witness you signing it?”

“Yep, Friday?”

“Of course, Nat, I will witness.”

Natasha flipped the phone to the messages, then opened the document. She reviewed the lines including all the authorized changes. “Keep this private my verbal authorization only unless they’re given this information.”

“Understood.”

She signed it and waited for Friday to add an authorizing signature of witness, then hit transmit before putting the phone back to her ear. “We’re good?”

“One sec.” There was a sound of shifting and a drawer opening. “Okay. I have it. The accounts are authorized and active. Your changes are considered valid from today. I’ll answer calls from Steve Rogers, James Barnes, and Tony Stark in addition to Clint Barton. Is there anything I’m not authorized to tell them?”

“At the moment, no. I reserve the right to change that as needed.”

“Got it. So—where are you going and how long will it be before I find out you’re okay?”

She smiled. “I can’t tell you and I don’t know. But it’s not an op, so that’s something.”

“But it’s still dangerous or you wouldn’t be making sure this is done.”

“I could always be hit by a bus tomorrow,” she reminded him as she set the cinnamon rolls up on a tray.

“True,” he admitted. “Do me a favor and skip that part please.”

“Don’t worry, your twenty percent is covered in the contract.”

He snorted. “I know, I wrote it. Talk soon, Natasha.”

“Take care, Isaiah.”

Then the call ended.

“Nat, Peter is awake. Mostly. He’s stumbled into a shower.”

“Huh. Okay.” She slid the cinnamon rolls into the oven. “Guess I’ll wake Tony up then.”

“I can,” Friday offered.

“Oh, no, my way will be much more fun.” For her, anyway. Besides, she had to do something. The call with Isaiah was fast and there were still a half-dozen things to do—gear to pack, though she could just take a go bag. They had cold weather gear on the quinjet. They should probably take food. Camping gear, too. The cabin was bound to be cold.

“Understood. I’ll monitor the oven.” Friday’s tone was almost soothing.

“Thank you.” She set her phone on the bar and headed up the stairs on silent feet. It was dark in his room, Friday had closed it down but the door was unlocked. _Thank you, Friday_. She eased it open. The faint sound of his snore carried. Tony was terrible at faking sleep. He had the faintest of snores, low and with just the barest hint of a whistle. If he tried to fake it, he either overdid it or forgot to snore at all.

“Friday,” she murmured low. “Windows to thirty-five percent when I hit the bed.”

The AI didn’t answer her but there was a single flash from one of the cameras.

She hesitated. This might be rude and at the same time…

He’d kind of earned it.

Racing forward, she leapt and bounced on the side of the bed he wasn’t on. She went and then down. “Wakey! Wakey!” She announced in a cheerful voice as the windows brightened and Tony rolled over—more like bounced over from his side to his back—staring up at her like she was a madwoman.

“Seriously?”

She grinned and fell on her knees and then bounced to sit on her butt at the end of his bed. “Seriously. You were up all night yesterday so you didn’t get someone to bounce you out of bed. Still, not a pony, but I wanted to help.”

He slumped back against the pillows and put an arm over his eyes. “I hate you.”

“I know.” She had absolutely no shame. “I did, however, make your coffee and I put cinnamon rolls in the oven.”

“Okay, maybe I hate you a little less.”

She chuckled until it faded on a long exhale.

“You know I could have shot you, right?” As complaints went, that was pretty legitimate.

“Nah, you’ve been wanting me in your bed too much. You’d have totally made sure I had clothes on first.”

There was a movement behind her and she grinned.

“See?”

“You have clothes on. Definitely not my dream.”

“Nope, just reality. Montana today,” she reminded him.

He groaned. “I know.”

“Don’t be such a baby, you got at least six hours of sleep. That’s practically over-sleeping in for you.”

“Only because Friday is a traitor completely taken in by your spy whammy and shut off power to the lab.”

“Sorry,” Natasha said. “Not sorry.”

Another grunt of acknowledgement and the quiet stretched. “Red?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Uncertain about Montana,” she admitted, hands clasped together.

“Uncertain like you showed up for the presentation to the class naked or uncertain like the sky’s about to fall?”

Natasha glanced over her shoulder. “I never got that showing up to class naked one. I mean I get it—dreaming of being exposed and unprepared, but the naked part is just weird.”

He snorted, hand under his head and his tired gaze on her. “Some people have issues when people see them, Red. Even you, though you play it off really well.”

“I suppose. Still weird.”

“Which is it?”

“Not end of the world _or_ naked—just, I lived there for two years. I had a kid there. I had a whole other life. I’ve been wanting to go since James told me.”

“No you haven’t,” Tony said simply.

“Yes, I have…”

“No,” he countered. “You haven’t. Maybe you were prevented because of the sludge and your recovery, then the holidays and well—the Accords and the Mandarin. But if you’d really wanted to go, Red, you’d have already been there.”

She exhaled. “Maybe.”

He didn’t contradict her. “So, what’s making you uncertain now?”

“I put it all away, said I’d go after the holidays. We had things we had to do and we still do… but it’s after the holidays.”

“And you’re still here instead of on your way there?” If it was a guess, it was a good one and if it was insight, well… she couldn’t argue it.

“A little and Steve and James are probably fighting about it right now. I took care of everything except the Accords; we need to hammer down a plan for that. After Montana, we’re back here for a few days and then Wakanda. That’s—a whole other level of uncertain.” But only because she didn’t have a guarantee. Her part in the op was to just endure it. Everyone else had to do the heavy lifting.

“Okay, Red… we’ll back up to the boyfriend battle in a sec. Don’t think I missed that. The Accords, however, have a plan. Committee members aren’t back until the second week of January. T’Challa and I put together a list of conditions they have to meet for us to resume talks.”

“A list of conditions?” She twisted as Tony sat up and swung his legs off the bed.

“Yes, conditions,” he told her as he stood and then paced past her into his bathroom. The sound of him peeing carried, but so did his voice. “Conditions like no more backroom deals to try and get you off the team. A guarantee of amnesty, if they can’t be bothered to do more than put the charges they wanted on hold and they are going to play games, we’re not. They need the Avengers. They need me. They need T’Challa. We acted in good faith and _you_ acted in good faith…” The toilet flushed and the shower came on. “They aren’t.”

Rising, she paced over to the bathroom and leaned against the wall just outside the open door.

The door shower door opened and then closed. “In addition to that, they need to get off their ass where Ross is concerned. He committed actual crimes, but they are all hesitant to act despite clear evidence. This doesn’t really send a positive signal to those he persecuted—including you.”

“That’s why you got Wanda’s green card sorted out.” She hadn’t missed that.

“That’s one of the reasons,” he said and the water pattern shifted as he stepped under it.

“You did a good thing, Tony. A really good thing.”

“Look, the simple fact is—you’ve gained a lot of public support.” And nope, he wasn’t going to let her make much of him. “The stuff Laura and her people are doing? It’s working. It’s taking on a life of its own. All of this is good…but I’m aware of tick-tock on this, Red. I know the three months they gave us is winding down. But until they present good faith—which believe it or not, the Chinese delegation was the first to agree to honor those terms—then we’re not giving them shit.”

“Tony, if they run the clock out…”

“I dare them to come for you, Red. I fucking dare them. They can’t find their asses with two hands and a flashlight and they want to take on all of us because they’re too stupid to live? No, I don’t think so.”

She laughed. Honestly, she wasn’t worried for _her_ anyway. “Fine. They agree to the terms, then what?”

“Then you and I get to make like Hansel and Gretel and skip merrily through the meetings again.”

“You realize that would involve us being abandoned in the middle of nowhere and hunted by a witch, right?”

His laughter rose above the sound of the water. “We can take a witch. Not to mention, if I’m getting abandoned in the middle of nowhere—I’ll have you, who knows how to survive, and you’ll have me to MacGyver whatever we need.”

“You sound like you’re enjoying that idea, too much.”

“It’ll be fine, Red, stop worrying.”

Easier said than done.

“And Red, whatever happens in Montana… you might get your answers. That’s what you want.”

It was. But she might end up with nothing but questions.

The water shut off and then the sink ran. The rough scrape of him brushing his teeth drifted out. A couple of minutes later, he passed her with a towel around his waist and another in his hand that he ran over his hair. Pausing, he met her gaze. “It’s okay to be uncertain. Bucky wants you to remember, but more, he wants you to be okay. If you’re not, then tell him. You don’t have to go.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then we go. Steve and I’ll be close enough if you need us. What does Clint say?”

“I haven’t talked to him about this yet. He said Laura wanted him to go, but I hate taking him away from his family.”

“Baby Girl, is Clint up?” he asked on his way into the closet.

“He is, shall I get him on the line for Nat?”

“Yep.”

Natasha opened her mouth.

“Nope,” Tony said pulling a t-shirt on that said Problem Solver with a roll of duct tape in the middle. “You stay here and talk to Clint, Red. I’m getting coffee and…” He sniffed the air. “Some cinnamon rolls.”

“Mr. Barton has said two minutes, he’s getting the youngest Mr. Barton cleaned up from breakfast.”

“Cool.” Tony paused in front of her again. “It’s going to be fine, Red. Think of it as an adventure…”

“I want it to just be fine. Walk in the door and remember and at the same time…”

“Yeah,” Tony said slowly, then held out an arm, she accepted the offered hug and sighed. “That’s why we won’t be far. If you need us, we can get there fast. In the meanwhile, you’ll have the one guy who knows it all.”

True enough. “I don’t know why I’m being so stupid.” It irked her. The restlessness, the nibbling worry, the fact James had not been happy with Steve and Steve wanted to change the plan because he was worried.

“You’re not stupid,” he reminded her, then kissed her forehead. “You’re human. You’re allowed some flaws. But only a couple. The rest of you is just too perfect.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle shove and he grinned.

“Mr. Barton is ready now, Nat,” Friday told her.

“One sec…”

“It’s okay, talk to him. Find me after. I might go grab Pete or send him up here to be all-cheerful at you. Those eyes are so hard to say no to.”

She laughed. “That’s what you think.”

“No, that’s what I _know_.” He winked at her.

He was halfway to the door when she said, “Tony?”

“Yep?”

“Thank you.”

“Always. Throw yourself on the bed again. Be nice to know I have you there, even if I’m not here to enjoy it.” He made a face and she grinned.

She walked back over and dropped on the edge of it, her gaze on the windows. The tension knotting in her gut began to twist in on itself. “Okay, Friday…put Clint on?”

“Hey, Kid, what’s wrong?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”


	44. Static

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve disagree on Montana...

**Chapter Forty-Four**

_Static_

**Bucky**

Apprehension seemed to shiver over her as Bucky locked his gaze with Natalia’s. Apprehension and worry.

“See you in a few.” What she didn’t say but he heard clearly—_please don’t make this a thing_. She flicked a look toward Steve, with the same message. Steve nodded, but Bucky wasn’t going to promise something he couldn’t deliver. Not when Steve seemed to have something on his mind.

So, instead, he said, “Take your time. You’ll feel better if it’s all done.” Natalia, once a decision had been made and prep done, had never cared for delaying tactics. Not even her own. This morning had been a last little gasp of holding onto the holidays.

But it was time.

For both of them.

“True.” She blew them both a kiss before she vanished into the elevator and the doors closed behind her. Picking up the stack of records, he moved them to rest on the floor next to the shelf where the others were organized. They’d have to fit them into Steve’s system.

“Look,” Steve said slowly. “I’m not trying to ambush either of you.”

Bucky slanted him a look. No, Steve didn’t plan traps. He just slammed headfirst into problems. “She also said she didn’t want you there.” It was as simple as that. She didn’t want any of them there. Bucky would bet if she could handle going in on her own, she’d have already made that call. That he’d not given her the exact location may be the only reason she hadn’t gone.

Maybe.

Natalia wasn’t an idiot. She had their names and the land was still in those names.

“It’s private,” Steve agreed. “I can’t imagine…”

“You don’t have to imagine.” Bucky turned to face him fully. “We discussed this. All of us. You, me, Clint, and Tony. I told you then when we went it would be Natalia and I. She consented for you to be at the airport. She consented to have her vitals monitored in the event something went wrong…”

“Buck, don’t you think I know all this?” Steve raked a hand through his hair. “Just—hear me out, okay?”

Arms folded, he stared at his best friend. “I’m listening.”

“You two need time—time for her to see the cabin. Time for you to be back there…”

“Steve, cut to the chase. I know why I’m taking her to _our_ cabin where _our_ daughter was born. I also know neither of us are cutting _you_ out, but this is going to be difficult as hell on her and she already made her wishes clear. I need her to be able to focus on _her_ and not worried about you or Tony or Clint.”

“I know why you’re taking her, too. I want this to work out for both of you, but—everything about this makes me uneasy.”

“What?” Bucky spread his arms. “That she doesn’t want an audience for what might be really painful for her? Or worse… empty?”

Exhaling a slow breath, Steve shook his head. “I have a bad feeling about her going. I’m not trying to stop you but the airport is what? An hour or two away by vehicle?”

“Ten minutes—maybe fifteen tops, by quinjet. Tony can probably clear it in less in the suit. It’s not leaving you _here_—though I’m starting to wonder if she and I shouldn’t do that.” The moment Bucky said it; he realized it was absolutely true.

The only two getting on that quinjet should be him and Natalia. She wouldn’t go for that at the moment, she’d already given her word.

“C’mon, Bucky, you’re worried about her, too. Not to mention—anything could happen.”

“Like what?” He didn’t deny he wasn’t worried. But this was about so much more. It was about being able to show her the place they lived, to walk her through it. There was a chance she’d remember and if she did…

Fuck she did _not _need an audience for that.

“Like everything is going to change,” Steve said, a harried note in his voice. “Like she has another of those strokes, which even Strange said was happening. Those mini-strokes. What if she has another one? What if we’re too far away to do anything about it?”

“You’re reaching,” Bucky told him, violently aware of the risks. “Don’t you think I know? That I’ve been blaming myself since the day I told her.”

“You had to tell her.”

“I did,” Bucky said. “I absolutely did and at the same time, it has caused her nothing but grief. Was it caused because she knew what to try and remember? Or would the triggers have happened anyway?”

No one could answer that question. Not even Natalia.

“I don’t know, they’re her memories.”

“They’re our memories,” Bucky corrected him and he tried to keep the aggravation out of his tone, but it wasn’t working. “Not yours. Not Tony’s. Not even Clint’s. We didn’t know them then and I thought you were dead.” The emptiness that accompanied those words didn’t change his position nor did Steve’s pained expression. “That’s a truth the rest of you have to accept. Natalia and I are going alone to the cabin.”

“I’m not willing to risk her…”

“It’s not your decision.”

Exhaling, Steve’s jaw firmed. The stubborn look in his eyes very familiar. “It’s not yours either.”

“Actually, it is. Steve—you love her. That’s great. We’re making this work and that’s also great. You don’t get to pretend you know her better or you’ve been there for her longer. You really haven’t been.” Yes, he knew just how hard those words would hit. He let them fly anyway. “You don’t get to decide right now because you have a bad feeling to change the rules. _She_ said she doesn’t want you there.”

“And if something happens?” Anger reflected in his eyes and the tension ballooning in the room ramped higher. Bucky had no interest in punching him, but they were narrowing the gap.

“It’s an isolated cabin in the mountains, miles away from anyone or anything. We’ve got supplies. The generator works, I just have to bring fuel. We’re well-armed and we don’t have a baby to defend, if there was even a hint of the Red Room or KGB or Hydra to come after us this time, we would handle it and you there would still be within flying distance. Let go, Steve.”

“It’s not someone coming for you that worries me…”

No. It wouldn’t be. “It’s her becoming Natalia that scares you.”

The faint flinch confirmed that.

“It’s the threat that everything changes. She said it herself—it’s like we’re leaving the island again.”

“She doesn’t…she doesn’t know who she’ll be. You know that leaves her uneasy.”

“It’s only because she doesn’t remember. There are these gaping holes in her memory—she didn’t want things to change between any of us because she didn’t know we could handle it much less her. She wants to take Tony on a date that she promised him from their bet but she’s letting us say no because she doesn’t want to hurt us or change things too much.” Natalia allowed them a lot of leverage.

“Going to the cabin might change a lot of things…”

“They’re changing one way or another, Stevie.” He had a chance to get Natalia back, all of her and she had the right to reclaim herself. “The only thing she’s asking you to do is trust her.”

“Of course, I trust her. Goddammit, Bucky. You aren’t the only one who loves her. I’m not worried about someone taking her again—though—our track record hasn’t been spectacular. You told me some of the crap that happened to her—it’s more than just remembering Mary, it’s remembering all the other bad things.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked and Bucky clamped his teeth shut.

“My gut says going is dangerous. I thought…” Steve hesitated. “I thought taking her was a good idea and now all I can see is her collapsing, her mind turning in on itself, tearing open scar tissue…”

Yeah, Bucky couldn’t get those explanations out of his mind.

“Thinking about her in that kind of pain. The docs and Shuri, they’re making all these plans with Tony. But even _Tony _is wary of letting her use SPARK because of the damage it can do. You were miles away when she got shot and you took that badly.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bucky shook his head. “You were standing right next to her—didn’t change a damn thing.”

Steve flinched.

“And you caught her, when she fell. That counts.” Then again, if Steve hadn’t intercepted her on the street when she was luring the bounty hunters away, she might have taken a whole other path. She might not have been there for that second group—which they’d all pretty much figured had something to do with The Mandarin took their shot at Tony. Chasing that argument in circles would get them nowhere. “The point is—this isn’t about blame or about who was where…”

“Except you being there and everyone else being miles away. Dammit, Bucky.”

Steve paced away from him.

“She’s not walking away from you, Stevie. She loves you. I don’t know what else she has to do to prove that to you.”

“She doesn’t have to prove anything. But I love her, too. I don’t want her going through his alone.”

Of course, he didn’t. “She won’t be alone. You know what happens if you’re there? You know that it’s you she’ll be focused on. You. Tony. Clint. She’ll be focused on protecting you. Minimizing her reactions. Burying them. Keeping you safe, not hurting you—that will matter more than any pain she’s feeling. It’ll be enough that I’m there; she won’t want me to blame myself. Even for the parts I messed up. You see the difference, Steve—is I _do_ know what happened. A lot of it. When she remembers—she’s going to know what I knew and what I didn’t. She may discover she’s not so affectionate anymore. Or that she needs to find a way to forgive me and herself for the choices we made. I’ve had to…”

Shock rippled across Steve’s face.

“Do I blame her for anything? No. She did the absolute best she could under the circumstances. She saved us both—and when the time came for me to return the favor… I managed to save them, but not myself. I should have made them kill me.”

Pale beneath his tan, Steve shook his head. “How the hell would that have helped her?”

“She would have had no reason to give herself up. She could have walked away from it all, vanished with Mary. Raised our daughter…had a life. Instead, she walked back into Hell to get me out. We still ended up apart and she still suffered. I had to forgive her for choosing to come back for me. She’s struggling with the idea she left Mary to do that. Even if she understands it intellectually, her gut—her heart? They’re both suffering.”

Bucky leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling.

“You want to bludgeon down the walls and shield her from everything. But you can’t defend her against herself. Neither can I. Just let it go, Steve… don’t make this a thing.” That was what she wanted.

“It’s not that easy…” Steve rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “Bucky, we just got her back. Now…”

“Now we risk her for her again. It’s her call.” That was one thing he would remain adamant about. “Don’t mistake her choices to let us be in charge the last couple of nights to bleed over into the day job. She’s talking to us and involving us. Do you want to go back to Switzerland when she was just going to leave us and go face Alexei and Leonid alone?”

“Of course not.”

“Then don’t force her to act against what you want.” Because if he did, she would have to make a call. “Worse, don’t force her to act against what she wants.”

Steve paced away from him and toward the kitchen. The argument was far from over. Natalia was already unsettled. They were on precarious ground and had been for some time. Her recoveries—first from Russia, then the formless, and now from The Mandarin had been impediments to be overcome.

They’d established their own roadblocks—the holidays.

But Natalia was fighting her way back to herself and she’d been pushing forward by meeting with Strange, talking to Shuri, involving Helen Cho and getting Tony onboard. Tony, who despite his own reservations, wouldn’t send her into the fight to restore her memories without him.

Montana was about reclaiming something of their shared past and maybe, just maybe, getting clues to where their daughter had ended up. They had some—here in New York, they’d been in Brooklyn and she’d been looking for Howard Stark.

“She doesn’t have to know,” Steve said finally and Bucky turned to look at him.

“Seriously?”

“Tony would agree with me.” The fact he could say that with a straight face left Bucky snorting. “He doesn’t want the distance any more than I do. But she needs the semblance of it to focus on you and herself. We can be close and she never has to know.”

In other words, lie to her. “Who are you and what have you done with Steve?”

“Buck… work with me on this. I know it’s not rational or reasonable. But if nothing happens, she’ll never know we were right there and if something does, you’ll be happy we were.”

“And you just sit on the quinjet while we both lie to her and you don’t come out at all unless you’re called because something is wrong? Or do you get to decide when something has gone wrong?” No. Just. No.

“I don’t want to be miles away if she needs me.”

“Or if she doesn’t apparently, and you’re willing to close your fist and do everything she’s asked us not to do.” It landed like the hit it was intended.

“Weren’t you the same one who said I don’t care when she walked away at the party? You wanted to just lay eyes on her?”

“Yes,” Bucky admitted. “But it doesn’t matter what happened. All that would have done was push her farther away than she’d already gone and maybe we’d have lost what few clues we had.” The thought had occurred to him.

“What?”

“If she walked out of the party, if she tossed the bracelet and vanished—we didn’t know anyone was coming for her and neither did she. The bracelet took us to Pepper and if The Mandarin hadn’t gotten cocky, we’d have lost her for good. We already muddied the waters by not backing off. All of us. Natalia is not going to live in a glass cage no matter how beautiful we render it. She’s asked us for very little Steve—to not fight. To not be so overprotective. To support her—every decision, it has to be hers.”

The simple fact of the matter was…

“I’m asking you to back off, Steve. Don’t make this a fight.”

His best friend stared at him and the stubborn light in his eyes didn’t go out. “Buck… I can’t not go with my gut on this. I can’t and then have something happen.”

“Nothing is going to happen that hurts _you_.” He snapped because dammit Steve.

A chime sounded from overhead.

“I’m not worried about me,” Steve said quietly. “What Friday?”

“Boss is in the elevator and wants to come down.” She didn’t quite clear her throat but she seemed to understand she was interrupting even if they’d never taken her off privacy mode.

“Natasha’s not here,” Steve said slowly then scrubbed his hands over his face.

“I know Red’s not there, Cap. I came down to talk to you two. Let me in…”

When Steve looked toward him, Bucky shrugged. He really didn’t have a problem with Tony or if Tony decided to take Steve’s side on this issue. It was still moot. Natalia had made her choice.

As it was, it had been almost funny when Friday cut the power to the lab and said it was Red-Level Executive Decision. Bucky had rather enjoyed Tony’s creative complaints and the affectionate undertone under all the gruff. The only time he’d brought up Montana was when they were separating to head to their respective floors.

_“Just let me know what you two need there, we’ll make sure it’s on the quinjet.”_

_“Appreciate it,” Bucky said._

_“Not a problem. Is two days really going to be enough?” _

_“I don’t know.” He really didn’t know. Didn’t know if she’d need longer or want to leave that day._

_“Then we play it by ear. Night.”_

“Fine,” Steve said then turned away to pour himself some coffee. Bucky rescued his own mug and crossed to the kitchen to get himself the last of it before they put a fresh pot on. There was still enough in Natalia’s pot for Tony.

The elevator doors chimed as they opened and Tony strolled out. He had his own coffee mug in hand and his hair was damp as if he’d just showered. Bucky finishing filling his mug as Steve faced him.

“Morning,” he said, his tone a little clipped but not hostile. The fact his spine was rigid and his shoulders locked betrayed more of his temper than he probably cared to admit.

For now, Bucky just got another pot of coffee going. “Morning. I’ve got a supply list started.” Since they’d discussed it earlier.

“Good, I figure the sooner we get Pete squared away and the quinjet stocked, the sooner we get out of here. Weather is definitely clearing over the city, Friday said the snow plows are making headway. Subways are expected to open by this afternoon.” The list was casual, just a ticking off of items. “Depending on what Pete wants to do, I figure we can drop him at the Compound if May isn’t free yet. Or home, if he’d prefer their apartment.”

“Could always let Spider-Punk stay here,” Bucky suggested. “Plenty of things for him to do, he’s close enough to get to his aunt on his own then.”

“Maybe,” Tony said with a shrug, then took a sip of his coffee. His gaze flicked to Steve who remained someone mute. “We’ll figure it out. Where’s your list?”

Bucky tapped the side of his head. “Supplies, mostly. Sleeping bags, portable heater, food. Fuel for the generator. I may have to cut some wood, but there are plenty to choose from.”

“Can always bring a couple of cords with us,” Tony said with a shrug. “At least enough to get it going unless you’re planning to Paul Bunyan as soon as you get there.”

No, probably not.

“If the worst happened, a sudden storm or the generator failed—that’s another reason to be there,” Steve said, his tone careful but not remotely shying away from his continued desire to be there.

While Bucky understood it, the worry and the distaste for a separation so soon after they got her back—particularly after the last forty-eight hours—the trip wasn’t a surprise and changing their plans last minute needed to come from Natalia, not them.

The urge to slug him was actually growing.

Maybe that would get it through his hard head. Steve digging in his heels wasn’t new. How often had they had this same type of argument? It was the same stubbornness that had him following leads around the world to find Bucky in the first place. He respected and appreciated it, but not right now.

“Time out,” Tony said. “Thought Bucky and Red were doing this part solo. We’re…”

“At the airport,” Bucky confirmed, then looked at Steve who set his coffee cup down abruptly.

“That was what we’re discussing.” The set to his jaw hadn’t changed.

“No, that’s what we’re _arguing_ about,” Bucky made it plain. “There is no discussion. Natalia said no. That ended the discussion.”

Eyes narrowed thoughtfully, Tony glanced from Bucky to Steve. “What’s up?”

“I’m concerned,” Steve said slowly, then focused on Tony. “I’m concerned about how Nat is going to handle being at the cabin and if something happens… the last time the nosebleeds and the headaches—it all started after the three of us…”

“Had sex,” Tony supplied. “We’re all pretty much on the same page with how that works. Apparently, you guys are breaking down barriers again. Good job. What does that have to do with her being at the cabin?”

Steve cleared his throat. “I have a bad feeling about it. About her going and us being far away if something happens.”

“Okay,” Tony said slowly, the glanced at Bucky. “And you still want us to be at the airport.”

“Pretty much,” Bucky agreed. “Some things are still private and this is one of them.”

“And we can park the quinjet and drop it into stealth mode. She wouldn’t see us or know we’re there…”

“We already covered that,” Bucky said. “Dammit, Steve. You don’t have to be a stubborn punk about everything. I get it. You’re worried. We can…”

“Pack medical supplies,” Tony said. “Add an emergency medkit to the supplies you’re taking. We know what happens when she has a mild seizure, she goes down, she gets a tremendous headache, but once it passes she usually needs darkness and sleep. If it’s more severe, her vitals would show that.”

A frown tightened Steve’s forehead. “I can’t believe you’re being blasé about this.”

“Not being blasé in the slightest. Red already gave us permission to monitor her vitals. Friday’s got a constant watch on them. I can see them on my HUD or my glasses. Anything happens, we know. Her vitals spike, we have the pattern. Airport isn’t more than ten minutes at full speed. We get the word, we’re there.”

Bucky motioned to Tony then stared at Steve. “See, he gets it.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t get it. We also weren’t aware of how dangerous those blocks were before.”

“C’mon, Cap. We knew they weren’t a walk in the park. Part of why you two were so pissed at me when I triggered her.”

“And because you did that without warning her what you were trying to do,” Steve said flatly.

“Not a whole lot different than parking five feet away for a front-row seat to something she doesn’t want us to see.” Tony seemed to get it. “I don’t like it. I don’t like her being out of my sight. But you adapt, because if you keep holding on so tightly—if any of us hold on that tightly—she’s going to walk. She made that clear.”

Hands on his hips, Steve bowed his head. “If anything happens…”

“We deal with it,” Tony told him. “I’ll be there. Clint will be there. Friday can initiate launch whether we’re there or not. We stay on the jet, good thing it has cots though there’s only two of them so you get the floor. I built it and Clint’s still healing. We play cards, maybe read, and we sit tight.”

Steve actually snorted, some of the anger in his eyes dissipating.

“There’s no guarantee we’re going to be there more than a few hours,” Bucky relented finally and Steve stared at him. “She might take one look at it and not want to stay. She’s already restless. If she remembers…it might be too much. So you could get your wish swifter than you imagine.”

“Now I feel like an asshole,” Steve admitted.

“You sound like a worried boyfriend,” Tony told him. “For what it’s worth. She’s not alone there, Cap. She’ll have Bucky, the arm has some nice upgrades including a shield. They never go unarmed, and the new armor works. Physically—safe as houses. Or as safe as I can make them. They can handle the rest.”

The confidence was startling. Then again, Tony had already started working on getting upgrades ready for the new house and he’d been all in on the bikes. He’d pulled Natalia’s apart and gone over every piece with the same kind of thoroughness Bucky would use. Pete had Steve’s with both Tony and Bucky looking over his shoulder.

Steve looked at Bucky. “You know why I want to be there.”

“You want to stand between us and the world, you can’t here. Where we’re going, you can’t follow. You can be there when we’re done and when we go to Wakanda. That’s when we all have to wait.” Because where Natalia went then, none of them could follow. “Trust her, Stevie.”

“I do trust her. I trust both of you.”

“Trusting doesn’t eliminate fear,” Tony admitted, lifting his mug. “You can trust someone with your life and still be terrified. The key here—and the most beautiful part of loving a woman as guarded as Red—is that when she lets you in—it’s not because she needs you. She stopped needing people a long time ago.” Tony snorted a little on those last words, but he wasn’t wrong. “To be honest, all we do is complicate her life and if either of you thinks anything different, then you’re fooling yourselves. She let you in because she wants you in her life, Steve. She wants him there. She wants us to be there and she’s willing to let us go pretty far… asking for more is just being greedy.”

“Tony’s not wrong,” Bucky said quietly. “She survived decades without any of us. I don’t doubt she can survive this. We’re more worried about watching her go through Hell than we are if she can make it out the other side.”

Steve stared at Tony for a long moment. “You really believe that.”

“Yep. All I want is for her to be happy. We’ve waded through plenty of pain and there’s more pain waiting on the other side of this trip. More than enough, don’t you think?”

That thought dug into Bucky’s soul and he blew out a breath. “You can ask her again,” he relented. “But don’t force it.” He locked gazes with Steve. “Don’t force her to choose your needs over hers. Not on _this_.” The issue of her dating Tony, or seeing whatever it was that was going on there, she’d given that to them. But the cabin? Bucky’s past with her? Mary Elizabeth? They weren’t anyone else’s to take.

“You don’t want me there either,” he was repeating himself, but the acknowledgement rather than resentment in Steve’s tone helped.

“No,” he said frankly. “I don’t. I told you why. I need her to be able to focus on her.” Then Tony’s presence or not, he added, “Walking back into that cabin ripped my guts out. Shredded my heart all over again because it confirmed everything I remembered. She has small pieces—maybe a barest sliver of what she could remember—two years we were there—nearly. Two years is a long time. If it all hits at once I may have to call you in, Stevie. But right now? No, I don’t want you there.”

The sympathy in Tony’s eyes wasn’t something he wanted to see. Frankly, he didn’t want to see it in either of their eyes. The fact was… none of them knew how this was going to go.

“Okay.” One word. Two syllables. “I’ll wait at the airport with the quinjet.”

“And if there’s a call to Assemble,” Tony said steadily. “We’ll deal with it.”

Bucky drained his coffee mug then refilled it. “Touch base if there is one. Friday can reach Natalia…”

“Yes, but I don’t think you two should just dump and go,” Tony said.

“We let Nat decide,” Steve said firmly, decision made. “She doesn’t want us choosing for her and she’s right. Taking away choice…just no.”

With a smile, Bucky lifted his mug. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t have to thank me, Buck—just don’t let anything happen to her.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“We’ll be right there, Cap. Right there and ready to go.”

The quiet stretched and then Steve nodded slowly. “Fine. What gear do we need to load on the quinjet? We should probably make sure you both have go-bags and stuff.”

The jagged tension bled away and Bucky nodded. “Med kit for one.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Tony said. “I’ll get a portable generator that uses an ARC reactor, too. It’s smaller, more compact and you won’t have to worry about priming it. A heater, too. Baby Girl, can you get us some cords of wood delivered ASAP?”

“I’ll take care of it Boss, and Mr. Parker is having breakfast with Nat. Mr. Barton said to notify him when we were on our way.”

That was two more items down.

“I’ll take care of the sleeping bags and air mattress,” Steve said. “We’ve got that in ranged supplies. Nat insisted after we deployed on a SHIELD op from here and had to sleep rough in a cave…” He chuckled. “It was fine, until we woke up the bear.”

Bucky could picture it and it made him laugh. Something they probably needed at the moment. “Now that’s a story I’d like to hear…”

~~~

Two hours later, Natalia landed the quinjet at the Compound. They had dropped Peter at the hospital where a car would be waiting to take him and his aunt back to their place as soon as she was free to go—about an hour.

Spider-Punk hugged Natalia tight and he’d searched all their faces before she gave him a kiss on the cheek and sent him and the gifts he was taking home with him off. As soon as they returned, he would head back over to see them. They promised to call him no matter what—a specific request he’d made to both Tony and Bucky.

In the meanwhile, he’d have time with his aunt. The woman had spent a week at the hospital. Hopefully, she got an equal amount of time off. Natalia also promised she would be around to visit with May, which earned her another bright smile from the kid.

Bucky was almost sorry to see him go. He’d gotten used to having him around. Clint waited for them by the landing platform with Laura, they were alone and Clint had his gear. As much as Bucky liked the man’s kids, he was rather glad they weren’t going inside. That would be at least another hour or more of a delay. Natalia appeared calm but she was almost too still.

After they’d gone up to find her having tea while Spider-Punk ate, Bucky hadn’t been able to dismiss the concern in her eyes as she glanced from him to Steve. For his part, Steve let go of the request to change things. He hadn’t brought it up again. At least Tony had been able to persuade him and for that, Bucky would be grateful.

“Hey,” Laura said as she came aboard. Clint dropped a bag and jerked his head to the ramp.

“Let’s give the ladies a minute.”

Bucky tracked Laura’s movement as she headed for Natalia, but Natalia’s smile as she rose from the pilot’s seat settled him. He tagged after Tony and Steve as they followed Clint down into the snow. The air was bitter cold, but the distinct lack of a breeze kept it from being too bad. The sun was even trying to make an appearance.

Tony’s glasses darkened as they stepped out and Clint zipped his coat up tighter. He fixed a look at both Bucky and Steve. “You two got your shit together?”

Surprise flickered through Bucky but only for a moment.

“Nat called you,” Steve said.

“She touched base. If you think she bitched, she didn’t. But I know her and something had her uneasy. I want to know if it’s resolved.” The knit cap on his head did nothing to soften his expression or his manner.

“They’re good, Clint. We have a plan,” Tony said easily enough, waving away any concerns.

“We fly to the airport, park the quinjet—we’re going to stand out like sore thumbs in this thing at that place.”

Bucky had thought about that.

“I got us a private hanger,” Tony said with a negligible wave of his hand. “We’ll park it out of sight, play it quiet. There will be a rental there for you two to take up, as well.”

More or less what he and Clint had done when they’d taken the trip before, only then they’d done it in a smaller plane and it had taken several hours to fly there. The quinjet would do it in far less time.

“It’s a hike up to the cabin,” Clint reminded him or maybe he was just sharing for Steve and Tony’s benefit.

“Natalia and I will be fine. We have our gear.” He shot a look back inside the quinjet to where Natalia leaned against the pilot’s chair talking to Laura. Both of their faces were animated and some of the stiffness in Natalia’s posture had eased.

Pulling out a cigarette, Bucky paced away from the other three and lit it. Arguing with Steve earlier had let him put off focusing on the fact they were indeed going today. Concentrating on the task list was a better use of his time. At least at the moment.

“You know Nat doesn’t want to cut into time with your kids,” Steve was saying as Bucky tuned back into their conversation.

“Yeah, I’m aware Cap. But the kids are good. They’ve got Wanda and Vision to entertain them. I told Laura two days. We’ll re-evaluate if it has to take longer. She wants me with Nat, so that’s where I’m going. Besides, I’ve been there—you two haven’t.”

Snorting, Bucky blew out a long stream of smoke. He’d also keep the peace if necessary, though Tony seemed to have a handle on that earlier.

“Friday reports we’ve got fairly clear skies. Might be some bumpiness crossing the Dakotas, so we might swing south for that. Sunset’s pretty early in the mountains.”

“It’ll be fine,” Bucky said, checking his watch. It was almost eleven here that made it nine out there. The sun hadn’t even been up a half hour. They had about eight hours of daylight in the wintertime. If they got moving soon, he and Natalia would make the climb with light and get settled in before dark fell. “You three got something to do to pass the time?”

“Brought cards,” Clint said. He rubbed his shoulder and glanced up the ramp. Laura was giving Nat a hug and the women were laughing. “Probably got movies on this thing.”

“We’ll be fine,” Steve told him. For a split second, their gazes locked and Steve nodded away from the jet. “Excuse us a sec.”

Bucky followed him down the partially cleared path. “What’s up?” They didn’t need to go far.

“Just—wanted to say sorry about earlier.”

“It’s fine, Steve. Already forgotten.”

His best friend snorted. “No, it’s not.”

“No,” Bucky agreed with him. “But it’s done. Decision made?” The last he wanted to verify.

“Yeah. Still, don’t like it. Glad Friday can check on her... Just can’t shake the feeling. Maybe it’s just me being paranoid. Be happy when you prove that to me.”

“Hard not to be.” And Bucky could admit that. If their roles were reversed… “I wouldn’t want to be the one having to wait either.”

“What would you do?” Curiosity filled Steve’s eyes.

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll find out someday, I’m sure.” There would be times when it would be Steve and Natalia tackling something—a mission. “Kind of like when she has to go with Tony to deal with the Committee or she takes Spider-Punk out to train.”

“We still need to run his route with him for Vulture.” Steve shook his head. “I know she has to have thought of that already.”

“They’ve probably run it at least verbally. Reviewing footage. Carter’s still on it, isn’t she?”

Steve nodded. “I’ll touch base with her when she gets back. Nat shouldn’t have to worry about it and Peter needs it resolved.”

She would worry about him less if the bird guy was out of the picture. Maybe.

Laura descended the ramp, her expression firm as she slid her arms around Clint. Bucky put out the cigarette but pocketed the filter to trash it later.

“You four better take care of her.”

“Don’t worry,” Clint told her. “These three excel at being under her feet.”

“Thanks,” Steve said drily but Tony just snorted.

“Enjoy the stay, Laura. If you need anything, let Friday know.”

“We will. Thank you, Tony.”

He nodded, and then headed up the ramp. Laura surprised Bucky when she gave Steve a hug and then turned to him. Bucky gave her a gentle pat on the back. “We’ll try to have your husband back to you soon.”

Another smile. “I know, but I also know he’ll be where he needs to be.”

With that, Bucky and Steve headed back aboard to let Clint say goodbye properly. Hopefully, all the affection between the pair was a good sign. His wife was a nice lady. Clint joined them a couple of minutes later and turned to watch his wife head back toward the main Compound.

Natalia glanced back over her shoulder as she primed the engines back up. She’d left it idling, but shut down the main jets.

“We’re secure,” Clint called as he closed the ramp.

“You sure about coming? There’s still time for you to stay.”

“Shut up and fly, Kid. Or I’ll do it if you need a nap.”

She flipped him off over her shoulder and Clint grinned.

The flight took a little under three and a half hours, almost half the time of a standard flight. Natalia wasn’t pushing it, but she seemed focused on the flight and she wasn’t saying much. Bucky left her alone. Sometimes she needed the quiet. A couple of times Tony had gone up to offer her coffee once and something to eat a second time. Steve had dropped into the co-pilot’s seat for a while and gotten a laugh or two out of her. He was content to let them both have their time.

A part of him needed to prepare, not only for the drive, but the time there.

“Hey,” Clint said as he moved over to sit next to him. “You alive over here?”

“Yep,” Bucky told him. Arms folded and head back, he had his eyes closed to slits. Not that he could sleep. Tony had pulled out a StarkPad but seemed to ignore it while he studied Natalia thoughtfully. He didn’t stare, but his gaze kept returning there time and again. Steve was telling her a story about the war; it was one where they’d been in England on leave.

Bucky had been trying to get Steve drunk and doing a piss poor job of it. For both of them. But they didn’t give up and then used it as a game to scam a little money from drinking contests. Natalia was properly entertained.

“You need anything?”

“Nope,” Bucky said. “Thanks for asking.”

“I know we can monitor her vitals, but I’m going to ask you to check in—just once every few hours. It can be just a standard all green message.” Despite the phrasing, it wasn’t a request. “I need to know you’re keeping your head out there, too.”

“You forgetting I’ve already walked that road?”

“Nope,” Clint said easily enough. “But I know it messed with you then. This is going to be a different experience. You’re going to have her with you in reality rather than just spirit. Can do strange things to the head. So, do us both a favor and that way I can bilk Tony out of a few thousand over cards without worrying about you.”

Tony didn’t snort, but his attention shifted in their direction briefly. Hard not to listen when they were in close quarters.

“Once a day,” he told Clint. “Twice if I’m feeling generous.”

“Done. Let us know if you need to extend, too.”

“Will do.”

“We’re almost there,” Natalia said over her shoulder. “I’ve got the airport on my radar.”

“Bring us in, Doll. Then we’ll get the gear loaded.”

They weren’t going to linger. The flight had been enough waiting and they still had the drive.

“It’s a balmy 18 degrees on the ground with temperatures expected to drop to -6 tonight. You guys should definitely keep the engines running.” There were several cords of wood that Friday had delivered to the Tower before they left. More than enough to feed the fire through the night and into the next day before he’d need to cut any. They also had a portable heater and generator, both ARC reactor powered. They’d be fine. The cabin had been in sturdy enough shape with few drafts, but he could work on it if it had developed one.

“You worry about staying warm, Red. I can snuggle Steve if I get too cold,” Tony announced.

There was a downbeat. Then laughter erupted—from Natalia, Clint, _and_ Steve. Bucky grinned. “He’s a blanket hog,” he warned Tony with a grin. “You should grab two.”

“Thanks,” Steve said over his shoulder.

“Hey, just calling it like I see it. At least your feet don’t turn into ice cubes anymore.” That had sucked when they’d been younger.

Another giggle emerged from the pilot’s seat and Bucky smiled. Tony had his moments.

“I suppose I’ll just have to make do on my own,” Clint grunted.

“Aww, I’m sure Steve would share,” Natalia called back. “He’s good like that.”

“Okay, that’s worth two right there,” Steve warned in a low, but playful voice.

Natalia laughed again. “Something to look forward to.”

The humor sustained them as she navigated them to the small airport, and tucked them into the hangar with no fuss. Fortunately, the main doors were automatic. The air outside was bitingly cold and he eyed Natalia as she pulled on the neoprene mask she’d worn when they’d taken the snowmobile out. That, along with her knit cap, parka, and boots bundled her well.

The rented vehicle was inside the hangar. The engine had a heater in it and Tony went over it with his gauntlet, scanning it before he climbed in and backed it up to the ramp. Then Bucky and Steve got it loaded with the gear. Steve double-checked everything even as Bucky did the same.

Once they were ready, Natalia hugged Clint and the other man whispered something. Next, she went to Tony, who just held her for a long moment. “You two look after each other,” he said. “But this isn’t a vacation. Don’t make us have to come up there and dig you out.”

Natalia snorted. “No, I’ll save vacations for the beach. I’ve had enough snow to last for a long while.”

Wasn’t that the truth?

Tony and Clint boarded the quinjet and left them with Steve.

“Tony’s right,” Steve said, wrapping an arm around her. “Both of you look after each other. I’ll be here if you need me—need us.”

She leaned into him and when she held out her hand, Bucky went. They folded her between them and then Steve patted him on the back. They didn’t need a lot of words.

Natalia pulled down the mask long enough to give Steve a kiss. “Thank you.”

“Never have to thank me, Angel,” he said. “Just be safe.”

She grinned. “James isn’t going to let anything happen to me.”

Not if he could help it.

“He probably won’t even let me carry stuff on the climb.” The look she gave him was all teasing, but he shrugged. Depending on how treacherous it was, she was likely right.

“Go on,” Steve said. “Before I change my mind. Sooner you get out of here, the sooner you get back.”

Once they were in the SUV, Natalia stripped away the mask. The heated air felt good even if it had a tough time against the cold. Steve got the door open for them. Snow covered much of the landscape, but it wasn’t snowing. The partly cloudy skies allowed the sun to glare off the snow. It was just after lunch local time. They had about four hours until dark.

“Are they going to be okay?” 

“They’ll worry and fuss. But they’ll manage. Don’t worry about them.”

“Easier said than done.”

Yes, he was well aware. “You ready?” Bucky asked as he pulled away.

Natalia glanced back once at the hangar where the door was closing. “Does it sound bad if I say no?”

He reached over to take her hand. “No, Doll, it doesn’t.”

“Well, then it’s good that I’m mostly ready.” She squeezed his fingers. “How about you?”

“Yes,” he told her firmly. “I’m ready.”

The airport took a moment to get out of, but Natalia didn’t let go of his hand. When he made it out to the state highway, he shut off the GPS. Natalia gave him a curious look, but didn’t ask. He didn’t need the instructions, not this time. The last time they’d been here…

“James?”

“I know,” he said, lifting her hand to kiss it. “You can feel what you need to feel, Natalia. If you want to stop, say stop. If you want to talk, talk. Clint made me so mad on this drive last time I nearly punched him.”

“Well, he has that effect on people. What did he do?”

“Made me acknowledge that it hurt to come out here. That I was blaming myself for what happened. That—I missed you and Mary. That I was burying my own feelings in worry for you.”

She sighed. “Are you still doing that?”

“I don’t think so,” he admitted. “But you are the more important one on this trip…”

“Together, James,” she squeezed his hand. “We’re together. The last time we drove out here I was pregnant.”

“And there wasn’t this much snow,” he said before he began to laugh. “After the first snowfall, you looked at me and said, ‘This is not so bad. Russia in the spring is much worse.’”

Natalia burst out laughing.

“As long as it never reached Siberia-like.”

“We will not come in February.”

Her laughter climbed and then steadied out. “Does it look different?”

“Yes. No. It’s oddly familiar and yet—there are things here that may not have been here before or I just didn’t care enough to note them.” Still, he kept on course for the mountains.

“How far?”

“An hour,” he told her. “Then we climb.”

“How did you get Clint up there?”

“I carried him.”

A beat of silence. “Please tell me you took pictures.”

It was his turn to laugh and it cleared away some of the static weighing him down since his fight with Steve. “Next time, Doll. I promise. Just for you.”


	45. Montana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat and Bucky get to the cabin

**Chapter Forty-Five**

_Montana_

**Natasha**

They were making good time. The mountains ahead grew in stature as they drew closer to them. She studied them, trying to see them, as she would have when they arrived all those years ago. Sinking into that mindset was a challenge though; the last few times she’d pushed it had ended up triggering an episode. James still had hold of her hand and he’d rub his thumb against her palm periodically as if wanting to pull her out of her thoughts.

Their conversation waned after the first few minutes. Silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but she wasn’t entirely sure how to fill it either. Sure, she could ask more questions. Hours earlier, he’d told her about their first Christmas up there, about the tree they’d cut down and brought in.

She had to bet it was the first time she’d ever had a Christmas tree. He’d known she’d picked one out before when they’d gone tree shopping after Thanksgiving but he’d said nothing. Blowing out a breath, she rested her chin against her hand, elbow on the door and kept her gaze fixed on the distance.

Withholding information was a familiar choice. Sometimes, it just made no difference if she shared—particularly when it related to the past. The road began to wind into mountains and her ears popped as they climbed. They’d left the state highway behind for a narrow two-lane road that boasted more snow than the larger road had. It had been cleared, but not scraped. 

There were houses along the way, tucked back into the trees and if she hadn’t been looking for them, she wouldn’t have seen them. The residences grew sparser the deeper and higher they climbed. When she’d seen nothing for ten minutes, her gut began to clench. The trees were thicker here and the snow deep. They were getting closer.

Then he took a turn and they went off the road and the chains on the tires kicked in as they bounced over an uneven path they had to carve for themselves. Trusting this had to be a route or road of some kind beneath them, she released his hand so he had it if he needed it.

The whole time, she searched for some sign of habitability, but the deeper they plunged along this new path, the wilder it became. There were rocks climbing along the left as their route curved. Behind them, the trees closed in and she had to imagine while winter erased the track here, summer likely masked it with thick growth.

By her estimates, the closest neighbor was twenty minutes behind them, maybe twenty-five. And that was in the vehicle they had now. James slowed. “We’ll offload first, then I’ll move the SUV.” He pointed to the right where the ground seemed to fall away. “There’s a lee in those trees where we built a shelter to hide the jeep. Kept it out of the weather and we insulated it as much as we could to keep the engine from freezing.”

They’d hidden it really well. It took her a moment to even see a dip that might make up the entrance.

When he put the SUV in park, the tautness in her belly stretched tight.

“Snowshoes, Natalia,” he reminded her, but he was already out before she could snort. The snow outside was deep and they’d strapped the snowshoes right behind the seats. She laced hers on, and then pulled up the mask to shield her face before she shoved the door open. It took some force because the snow had to be a couple of feet deep at least on this side. It probably drifted deeper closer to the rocks.

James had the back of the SUV open and his coat was lighter than hers, but he paused at her approach to pull her hood up and tighten it.

She smiled behind the mask. “Stop fussing.”

“No,” he answered easily, then pulled out her go-bag and held it out to her. She slung it on her back and secured it. Then reached for the heater. He had his go-bag, the mini-generator and a length of rope he used to tie one of the cords of wood to and then tied it over his shoulder. “I’ll come back down for the rest in a minute.”

But when he closed the hatch, he glanced at her.

“I’ll be fine,” she reminded him and he sighed. “James?”

“I know. You want us to take a step back.”

“No, I wanted to say thank you.”

He frowned. “For what.”

Putting her hand against his chest, she said, “For being you. Now let’s go Soldat. We have three hours of daylight and I have a feeling if we’re not tucked in warm when dark falls you’re going to stress.”

His gentle grunt and the faint relaxing around the edges of his eyes said the words helped. “We’re climbing,” he said, moving easily over the top of the snow. Like her, he had on snowshoes. They’d probably have to take them off to climb, but it wasn’t her first rodeo. “It’s a sharp angle, but the rocks have enough purchase. I can go up and secure a rope.”

“I’ll be fine,” she rebuked him gently. “I’ve had to climb worse with less.” Survival meant making do. His lack of further argument told her as much. They’d both been down this road enough times.

The clench in her gut didn’t loosen as he took point on the ascent. It wasn’t a bad climb, but she was glad for the insulated pants as they had to wade through some snow as well as the gloves and the heavier hiking boots she’d worn. They were insulated and they could get a grip on the slicker bits of rock. It wasn’t a straight climb, but they had to move almost at a diagonal along the uneven rock face while balancing the additional weight they both carried. The snow made it a little more treacherous, but James cleared the final meter and then the lip. He paused long enough to hold out an arm to catch hers as she hoisted herself up and he dragged her up the rest of the way.

Then she was standing on the lip looking down to where the SUV waited before pivoting to face the cabin nestled in the trees. They had to put their snowshoes back on. The muted light slanted through the trees and turned some of the snow dazzling while emphasizing shadows elsewhere. As they crossed, James pointed to a large rock to their east and said, “There was a small garden there. We raised some vegetables.”

That… startled her. The air grew colder and with a harsher bite as he continued. “We planted it our first spring, just after Mary Elizabeth had been born, you asked for seeds and I had to go to Bozeman for supplies and clothes for her. We planted tomatoes, cucumbers and lettuce. Toughest thing I did while we were here, figuring out how to take care of it. We both did. You said, ‘I know how to kill things Soldat, let’s see if we can grow them.’” A laugh huffed out of him. This was a treasured memory. “When we picked our first tomatoes, you ate one right there. It squirted juice all over your face, but you didn’t care. There was so much light in your eyes and you were so proud. You offered me a bite…” He shook his head and threw a grin back at her. “It was good. The cucumbers were better. We had to fend off the rabbits and the deer for the lettuce though.”

“I’m guessing we had venison?”

His smile grew. “Not at first, but when they tore out several heads of lettuce, I thought it a fair trade.”

“I like venison.”

“I know.” A little smugness. Just a little.

But still the cabin was coming more and more into sight as they passed the trees. It had a sloping roof, higher on one side than the other. Probably room for a loft. There was a wide covered porch and she half-expected to see a swing—no a rocker. It should be a rocker on the porch.

A shiver went up her spine.

“Careful of the first two steps,” James ordered as he skipped them entirely and climbed to the third. There was a railing, too, a place to grip if it had been difficult for her to go up and down when she’d been ungainly and overbalanced while pregnant.

The second step creaked under her weight but didn’t give way. The porch itself squeaked and complained as first James, and then she crossed it. As he pushed open the door, she paused to glance back the way they’d come. Their tracks weren’t clear. They’d both done the same thing as they walked, sweeping their feet to clear the impressions. Old habits died hard.

Beyond, it was a postcard mixed between shadows and light. The clouds cast shade but light spilled through even as the sun had already begun a descent toward the west, which was behind the mountain. It would get darker here swifter than say higher up.

She could stand on this porch and pretend they were absolutely alone from the world. The SUV below wasn’t visible nor the road. They were hidden from easy viewing. A person would have to know where to look or just trip over them.

On a clear day, she didn’t doubt she could see for a mile easily over the tops of the trees below. She thought there might be a lake down there and there had to be running water nearby. They needed a fresh source.

“Natalia,” James’ voice drifted over her and he was right behind her, but she didn’t turn. How many times had she stood on this porch and looked out over that valley, studied the thick trees and wondered at the peace discovered here?

No hum of vehicles or electricity.

Just them. The creaking of the wood beneath their feet. The rustle of a breeze in the trees and the taste of snow on the air.

Pain fisted in her chest and she forced herself to breathe around it.

“It’s clear,” he said, his voice solemn and low. Of course, he checked the interior. “I’ll build the fire, but give me the heater and your bag.”

“It’s fine,” she said unslinging the heater from over her shoulder so he could take it. She pulled her gaze away from the valley and turned to face the door and the shadowy confines behind it. She freed her snowshoes and left them next to James’.

This was _their_ place and as much as he tried to bottle it, there was a quiet sense of hope clinging to James. Hope she’d remember. Hope they were doing the right thing. Hope…

Hope was uncomfortable. Lifting her chin, she glanced up to find him watching her as he took the heater.

“Welcome home,” she told him quietly. A small smile spread across his face as he held his hand out to her. Dread tangling with anticipation, she put her gloved palm in his and stripped the mask off as he led her inside.

The interior was dark, more because the windows were filthy and didn’t let in much light than anything else. It smelled musty and had just a touch of wood smoke clinging to the air. Probably from James and Clint’s previous visit. He gave her hand a squeeze, then closed the door to shut out the cold and he turned to the fire as she slid off the go-bag.

Dropping it on the floor next to the door, she let her gaze trail over the empty walls comprised of logs fitted snugly together to the dusty old sofa just a few feet in front of the fire, the table in front of it. There was another chair in the corner. A few steps in and she could see the kitchen. He got the portable heater set and turned on. It let off a cheery red glow. James got the wood stacked into the fireplace and he kept glancing at her as she studied the fireplace itself. Constructed of fat stones in differing shades of earth tones, it had a fat mantle and she could almost picture the tree in the corner next to it.

The air was still cold and hurt a little to breathe, but she clung to the sting of it as she traced her attention from the fireplace back to the kitchen. Dated and yellowing appliances occupied the spaces. Curiosity drove her to open the cabinet doors.

There were dishes inside, an old pattern—did she recognize it because she’d used them here or because she was old enough to remember when it had been popular? Who knew?

There was an old dusty teacup sitting on the counter with its saucer. A glance inside showed whatever drink it held had evaporated and decayed decades earlier leaving it stained beneath the dust. There was a matching teapot in another cabinet and she lifted it down carefully. It was china white with birds—red cardinals in flight on the side. Cardinals represented the return of a loved one who’d passed. She put the teapot down and then went through the drawers systematically.

No clues waited for her inside. Pushing the hood back from her head, she left the kitchen and prowled the spartan living room then turned into the bedroom. A large bed occupied the center of the room, the sheets and blankets having long since gone to tatters and frayed. There was a chair near the bed and a drawer sitting on the floor next to it.

She picked it up slowly and turned it over. It was the only drawer not in the dresser. On the bottom was Cyrillic print and she recognized the carving and the words. Setting the drawer down abruptly, she turned in a slow circle in the bedroom.

James stood in the doorway, his arms folded. “I’m going to go back down to carry more stuff up. But I wanted to check on you first.”

“I can help.”

“Natalia.”

She exhaled shakily and shook her head. “I don’t recognize it—and at the same time…” The vague notion of familiarity sent chills up her spine. “So, I’d rather come help.”

He frowned, but then beckoned with a curl of his fingers. “Face mask and hood back up.”

This time she did roll her eyes. “I’m not five.”

“I know, when you were five they failed to look after you. Hood and face mask or stay here.”

She glared and he met her gaze evenly. “You like being an asshole.”

“I do, when appropriate. And that’s one.” The last line made her blink and then her lips began to twitch as some of the irritation bled away.

“One, huh?”

He shrugged. “Stevie has his count. I’ll have mine.”

“Fair enough,” she said, releasing a chuckle, albeit a reluctant one. “Guess that just means I can be more of a brat if I feel like it.”

“Whatever makes you happy,” he said easily. Despite the hint of teasing, disappointment feathered the air. But they’d only just got there. They had time. Better to get their supplies squared away, too.

It took a couple of minutes so suit back up. The climb down wasn’t as difficult as coming up. A good thing. They loaded up—him with far more than her—and hauled it up to the cabin. It took them two full trips and then he told her to stay put, he’d moved the SUV and bring the last bag of food up when he came.

Then she was alone in the cabin. The fire crackled cheerfully, the scent of burning cedar chasing away some of the mustiness. She stripped out of the parka and facemask, leaving on the knit cap and gloves. The food supplies she carried into the kitchen. The fridge worried her, but when she pulled it open she found it had been emptied of anything even if it held some bad musty odors. Not enough power to it yet anyway. Closing the door, she moved to the back of the cabin. There was a second door tucked into the wood, all she had to do was press the wall next to it and the door released.

A heartbeat after she did that, she retreated a step and the door that had opened held for a long moment before it snapped itself closed again. A weighted door with a safety spring.

Had that been there or had they added it themselves? Approach from the front, no clear exits out the back except windows. This door would have made it easier for her, especially if she’d been pregnant at the time she needed to get out and away.

The seams for the door blended in perfectly with the striations of the woodwork. Repeating the gesture, she let the door swing open and flood icy air inside. Bracing it with one hand, she stepped to the edge and looked down. The snow had piled up to just the bottom, but it had to be at least a full foot drop, maybe more. The cabin was built onto a hill.

This side was higher than the other.

She pivoted and retreated back into the cabin and let the door close. Abandoning the secret door, she stared at the wooden floors. With care, she began to walk them, one board at a time. The heat in the room was slowly building back up, but she tucked her gloved hands under her arms as she moved and ignored the shivering. It would pass.

The fire and heater were already hard at work. The light stomp of James’ feet on the porch alerted her to his return, but she continued her search grid. When he came inside, he blew out a breath and paused. Natasha gave him a little nod, but kept her gaze on the floor. She’d walked most of the living room except where the sofa sat closer to the fire and blocked her footsteps.

Wait…she came out every morning and sat on the sofa. That was what he said. She moved to the wall where the flooring was a slightly different color. Less faded the rest. She moved to the edges and walked those slowly. James pushed away from the door and frowned.

“Did you find something?”

“Not sure—wood floors. Wood floors make good hidey-holes.” Her face was numb. A shiver shuddered its way up her back. Suddenly James thrust her coat at her and she waved it off. “It’s warming up.” His half-growl made her pause and she met his stare with one of her own. “Back off. Let me do this. I found the door in the wall. I went right to it.”

His frown grew pinched and then he snapped his head to the side. “The door… I forgot the door.” Then he was crossing over and moving to exactly where she’d stood and he pressed the hidden mechanism and the door sprang open, flooding the room with more cold. At least she wasn’t the only determined to freeze them out before the heat could build in the room. “You went this way… you had to have, you would have gone west and then north away from the roads.”

Made sense, higher in the mountain to descend on the far side. She’d strapped Mary in a carrier on her back that let her hands stay free and share her warmth with her. They had to break often to let Mary nurse, but it had worked.

He turned and crossed over to her again and held out the coat. “Please?”

Huffing out a sigh, she turned and let him slide it on her, but handled the zipping closed herself. He left her for a spare moment, then pulled out hand warmers from one of their bags. He cracked them and then slid them into her pockets and she stripped off her gloves to shove her hands in with them. The heat against her hands went a long way, particularly since her breath was still frosting in the room.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Do you want me to help do the search?”

“No, I got it. I was putting stuff up, or at least figuring out what to do with everything.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll put the electric kettle on, too. Then you come and sit and warm up. There’s a draft in here…”

“We keep opening the doors,” she reminded him and he let out a half-chuckle.

“Still putting the kettle on, Tony packed electric blankets. I’ll get those plugged into the generator and I’m going to start the other so I can get the lights on.” The shadows outside were lengthening. “Then come sit?”

The last request twisted something in her. She nodded and gripping the hand warmers, she said, “I will. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“Snap all you want, Natalia. I promised myself I wouldn’t push and it’s the first thing I did.” His smile held as much affection as it did apology. Abandoning her search for a moment, she closed the distance and when she reached for him he scooped her up close. She buried her face against his cold jacket and held him tight. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“This is kind of new to both of us,” she told him. It was true. He might have been here before, but the last time they’d been here they’d been all but married and now—now they were together again but it wasn’t quite that. How could they be?

“I guess,” he conceded, then set her down slowly, before nuzzling a kiss to her hair. Then her forehead. “Your skin is freezing,” he chastised. He tugged the knit cap down over her ears and glanced around for the mask.

“James, I’ll be fine. Let me finish and see if I made a hidey-hole.”

“Then I’m helping.” That was the end of that debate. He put water on to boil, then they split the bedroom, moving over every single floorboard.

“Were the bed and dresser always there?”

“Yes,” he said. “The dresser came later. The bed was first.”

They shared a look and he shoved the dresser out of the way.

Two steps and the board creaked right. She had a knife out and went to one knee with him a half step behind her. Wedged the knife in, she gave it a hard push and then twisted as soon as the board began to give, James had his fingers under the flat wide board and yanked it upward.

The little cubby contained a couple of boxes in plastic.

He reached in and set them in front of her. “I didn’t know that was there.”

“Old habits,” she murmured. “You had to be gone awhile when you left to take those trips to town. Plenty of time for me to get this into place. Did I ask you to put the dresser here or did you just decide to put it here?”

“You did,” he admitted. A puzzled frown creased his face. “You didn’t trust me with this.”

“Zvezda moya, I don’t trust anyone with all of my secrets.” Even now. When he met her gaze, he nodded slowly.

“Do you think there would be more?”

“Maybe, a second for after I sealed this one, but we can look later and you’ll be happier if I get warmer.” Not to mention, she would, too.

She slid the knife away into her boot and he smirked as he roved his gaze over her face. Gathering the plastic sealed boxes, she stood only to have James pluck them out of her hands. “Do you think you’ll ever trust one of us that far?”

“With all of them?” At his nod, she lifted her shoulders. “I’m not trying to be coy deliberately.”

“No,” he said then waited until she set the board back into place and settled it with a fist to either end. “I know you’re not.” He gave her hand up and she paused to stare at the bed. They’d slept there together for a couple of years. First, while she was pregnant and later after Mary had been born. They’d probably changed her on that bed or curled up with her together. “C’mon,” he murmured and with a tug guided her out of the room.

He set their finds on the table while she shoved her hands into her pockets to warm them again as she moved to stand before the fire. Neither of them went to open the plastic. She recognized the bags; they were used for cold storage once upon a time. It would have weatherproofed the contents, but if there’d been a fire that wouldn’t have done them much good.

“The sofa is still sturdy, but dusty,” he admitted. “I didn’t have time to take it outside and try to clear it.”

“Dust isn’t going to kill either of us.” They could spread a sheet over it. Surely in the mounds of supplies they had that. James shoved the sofa to make room and then he got the electric kettle out and plugged it in.

“There’s still water coming in from the well, but we probably need to let it run to clear the pipes.”

“If they aren’t frozen.”

“True,” he said, a measure of fresh disappointment in his eyes. “We brought water.”

They’d brought everything. They were here for a couple of days and they could easily live a month or more on what they’d brought if they supplemented with hunting.

She moved to give him a hand. The two of them could get it all squared faster. There were rapid heating meals, soups and bread. Sandwich stuffs. If they needed to keep it cold, they could store it outside in a container. It was definitely cold enough out there.

When the tea steeped, he draped a sheet over the sofa, then added an electric blanket before he set up the air mattress. Once he got the old generator going, the hum of it broke the crystal silence around the cabin. It wasn’t long before they were both out of things to do and they settled on the sofa each with their own hot mug and the boxes in front of them.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who is kind of dreading opening those,” she admitted.

“The only thing I’m dreading is if it hurts you,” he said quietly. “You’re already unsettled.”

It was a good word for it. “We should call and let them know we’re in.”

“I sent a message when I was at the car,” he held up his phone. It had one bar. But that was better than nothing. The bracelets on her wrist let Friday monitor her and she could contact her if she needed to. “I told Clint, I’d check in once a day. So, they’re fine. We’re fine. You can call if you want, Doll. But you don’t have to.”

She really didn’t want to call. She was also tired of being a coward. After a long swallow of the tea, she worked out of the coat again and stuffed the hand warmers into the pockets of her pants. They were insulated and over her yoga pants, but she kept them on for now.

“You warm enough?”

Between the fire, the electric blanket and the heater? She had three points of heat around her, she was good. What light had been outside vanished leaving them with a single lamp and the lights they’d brought to set up. It was cozy.

“I’m definitely warm enough,” she said. “Pick a box.”

James reached out for the one nearest them. They were both rounded. If Nat were to gamble, she’d say they’d been hatboxes once upon a time. He pulled out his own knife and slit the plastic. It was fine. They weren’t leaving it here and if they did, they had other containers they could put it in.

Sniper breathing kept her pulse steady and her focus clear as he peeled away the plastic and then stabilized it with a nod to her. Lifting the lid, she forced herself to not anticipate anything. She could have stashed money and weapons.

There was a stack of cash right on the top and she lifted it out. The bills were old, but it had to be about ten thousand in twenties, still secured by a bank seal that was labeled Chicago. This would have been a fortune back then. But only a part of what she’d had. There’d been cash in her go-bag and Mary’s. More than enough cash to take care of a lot of things.

It wasn’t really chump change now. Had they robbed a bank? Or had she drained KGB funds before they ran and secreted into accounts she could access? The latter seemed more likely, but they could have robbed a bank. She glanced at James for a beat. He’d have mentioned them robbing a bank, right? She tossed the bills onto the table and delved deeper. A baby outfit and a little hat—the shimmer in James’ eyes told her everything she needed to know about them. Unable to help herself, she sniffed the cap, but all she could get off it was chilly air and a little bit of talc and the hints of age. If it had smelled like Mary, it didn’t anymore. James held up the outfit carefully.

“The first week she was here. This was one of the only outfits we had and she wore it every day, she outgrew it fast but—” He laid it across his hand. It was so small compared to him. “She was tiny then.”

And Natasha had kept it. Once upon a time she would have said she didn’t have a sentimental bone in her body. Love was for children.

But Mary had been their child.

Beneath the outfit was an envelope and inside was a clipping of hair and a folded piece of paper. The hair was a reddish-brown, but nowhere near as deep as Natasha’s. It had been tied with a little bit of blue ribbon. She smoothed out the paper—there was a polaroid in the center of a newborn. Faded with time, but it had to be Mary and James was holding her. His expression held Natasha hostage, he stared at that baby like it was the most precious thing in the whole world.

“This was a few hours after she was born,” he said, his voice husky and rough. Natasha swallowed back the clog of tears in her throat. “You had so much trouble those first few hours, but when you finally seemed improved….you wanted the camera.”

“We keep that,” she whispered. “Maybe Tony and Friday can enhance it like they did with mine.”

He nodded slowly. “I was such an idiot. I had no idea what I was doing. You told me to hold her carefully, support her head and I remembered looking down at her and realizing she was why we’d gone to so much trouble to leave, why we risked everything…and I had no regrets.” He glanced up to meet her eyes. “The only regrets I have now is that I can’t take us back to this moment and steal away with her. That I had to leave you.”

Cupping his cheek, she swept away the tear sliding down his cheek. “Lyubov moya, no regrets.”

His expression shifted. “Ya tak tebya lyublyu.”

“I love you, too.” She sniffed once then pressed her lips to his. There was no passion in the kiss, just fierce connection. Blinking rapidly, she looked back to the paper that had been wrapped around the photo. She recognized her own writing and James slid his arm around her so she was closer as they studied it.

_Mary Elizabeth Yakovlevna Romanova Barnes_

James let out a little laugh. “You had to have added that later.”

She smiled. “No, I think I knew what your last name was.” She’d stolen it when she stole his first name. “There is no change in the pressure on the writing or the ink.”

_45 Centimeters. _

_2.7 Kilograms._

“She was tiny.”

_Eyes: Green._

_Hair: Reddish-brown_

_Born: April 3, 1972 at 7:57 a.m._

James traced his fingers over each piece of information. “Her eyes were green Natalia, you insisted they would shift and her hair was red, not just reddish-brown.”

“Her eyes did shift. They were hazel,” Natasha said, but more green than brown. He chuckled at the argument.

_Father: James Buchanan Barnes_

_Mother: Natalia Alianovna Romanova_

“You made her a birth certificate.”

“Someone should know she existed,” Natasha said carefully smoothing the paper. There were no seals, not authority, just her careful script. “Papers were so important in Russia. But our little girl was American.”

“Yes, she was,” James said slowly. What neither of them said was they hoped she remained that way. They stored the photo, the birth certificate and the lock of hair together and James tucked them into a waterproof pouch that went inside his coat. They weren’t losing those.

What was left in the hatbox were papers for Jason and Nancy Roarke, IDs, land grants, titles— “We own a gold mine.”

James blinked. “What?”

She held up the claim and the deed. “We own a gold mine and another one here for—copper. Actually, there’s two gold and one copper.”

“You bought them,” James said slowly. “The first three weeks we were in Montana. You paid more than they were worth according to the owners, when I asked you why, you said…”

“Always have a backup plan. You never know when this will be useful.” The words flowed right out of her. At James’ sharp look, she shook her head. “Not a memory, I just know me. It’s why I have shares in Stark Industries and a few other companies. Why I bought into real estate with Clint—he owns a few buildings in New York in addition to the safe house properties we keep around the world. Always have an exit plan. These aren’t liquid but they can be liquidated. I wonder if these deeds are still valid.”

If they were…

“Do you need them?” James asked, curious.

“If they are—I can add them to the estate planning I did.”

At those two words, he stilled.

“Yes, I plan for the worst, James. You and Steve and Tony are official with Isaiah now and I’ve made arrangements for all of you—for Peter and Wanda too, as well as the kids. If we find Mary—I’ll shift things around to take care of her and her kids…”

That thought alighted all at once and she stared at him.

When he raised his eyebrows, she said, “We could be grandparents.”

His mouth formed an ‘o’ and then he shook his head and they both started laughing. It was almost too surreal.

Clearing her throat, she did the mental math. “I mean if she started young, we could be great-grandparents.”

“Stahp,” he drawled out the word, the rough humor in his voice still present. “Not sure I’m ready for that.”

“I don’t know, I’d probably be voted hottest GILF—by Tony anyway.”

“Do I want to know what that means?”

Natasha thought about it. “Probably not.”

Dark humor or not, it was exactly the right thing for both of them, it helped soften the wretched reality stabbing at them.

“What else is in there?”

“Hey,” James said, pulling her attention. He smoothed his hand against her cheek, wiping away the tears. She hadn’t even realized she was crying. “We can stop for a while.”

“I’m—” She refused to say okay or fine. The first aggravated her and the second would be a lie. “I don’t want to. Do you need to?”

“More tea,” he said firmly. “And Tony sent a present for you that I think would be appropriate.”

He eased out from next to her and took the hatbox with him. She added the claim deeds and paperwork to the cash. Then blinked as James pulled up a rucksack she hadn’t seen and flipped it open. Inside were a half dozen huge bottles of vodka.

“Starting to think he might like me a little.”

James just gave her a dry look and pulled out a couple of cans of soup. He loaded them into an instant pot and plugged it in. It looked like they had all the toys.

Tony had no business buying her liquor but she couldn’t fault him at the moment. A measure of vodka sounded like exactly what she needed. The kettle boiled the water swiftly and she downed the last dregs of her tea before setting up their cups to brew. The room was still chilly, but the iciness had diminished—at least around the fireplace wasn’t too bad.

“Stove probably works, but I’ll look at it tomorrow. Not really eager to burn the cabin down now that we’re finally here.”

“We’re going to have hot soup, hot tea, vodka and a fire—not to mention a bed to sleep on. I’d hardly call this roughing it.” She got the bottle open. The mundane actions helped. “You should add more soup, you can eat three times as much as I can.”

“I’ll be fine,” he told her with a bemused expression. They didn’t really have glasses out here, but she just added the vodka to the tea and he nodded approvingly. They saluted each other and took a drink before resuming their excavation of the past. The rest of the materials in the box were different papers. She’d created different IDs for James, some for her. Maybe from their journey, but they were all still fairly solid looking if utterly expired. “Keep these or get rid of them?”

“Keep them,” she said. “We need to check the names and make sure I didn’t leave breadcrumbs under any of them.” Not that the aliases seemed familiar. Still, you never knew.

He took a long swallow of the tea as she pulled her knife and slit through the second plastic seal to open the second box. “Natalia, we don’t have to do it all tonight.”

“I know, but I think part of me hoped I’d see this place and it would all come rushing back.” Pain and all. She would have taken it. She hadn’t missed the oversized medical kit that had come with them and now sat right next to the door.

“I’m not going to lie, I’d kind of hoped it would,” James admitted as he lifted the lid on the second box. Inside were a couple of old pistols, six-shooters, unloaded. Bullets. Autoloaders. Grenades. James gave her a look and she shrugged. C-4. Detonators. His grin was sudden and without even an ounce of irony. A half-dozen knives.

“Babyproofing?” Natasha suggested.

Laughter shook his shoulders, genuine from-his-belly laughter and he eyed her for a long moment and then he laughed again.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” she said before taking a swallow of tea. “Though I think we should store the explosives elsewhere. Forty years does not suggest stability.”

“Agreed,” he said, still chuckling and then he wrapped his hand around her nape and dragged her in for a kiss. That was half-smile, half actual kiss and she nuzzled her nose to his before he rested his forehead against hers. “You never stop amazing me. I didn’t even know you had this much on you or where you got it.”

“A woman is allowed her mysteries.” She would have _acquired _it along the way.

“Definitely. I’m going to deal with this for now. Stay here.” Then he was up and his jacket and gloves were back on and for once, he pulled on the neoprene mask before he carried the whole box out of the cabin, closing the door swiftly behind him.

Her smile faded and she downed the rest of the tea before refilling the cup with vodka and then turned her attention to the fireplace.

It was perfect. From the way the stones were formed together, to the fat lip she could sit on to the mantle above it and the heavy stones crawling up the wall to form a chimney. It was the fireplace she’d been looking for—for years.

Downing the vodka, she leaned back on the sofa. It was old. A little lumpy in places. She was surprised more critters hadn’t made their home in the cabin. Then again, aside from a bit of a draft, it seemed pretty tight. The fire flickering in the fireplace was a comfort with the crackle of the wood. The scent of the heating soup began to join the aroma of the room.

“Okay, Nat we can figure this out…” She poured another drink of vodka and glanced at the front door. The soft thump of his feet hitting the porch alerted her to his return and he came inside with a swirl of icy air. Snow glistened against his hair and along with his jacket.

He shed his gear and then came over to where she held out the rest of his tea and vodka. After he downed it, he added more wood to the fire before he faced her. The question in his eyes echoed the one inside of her.

“The secret door. The fireplace. I’d say the hidey-hole but that’s just knowing me.”

“The fireplace?”

“I’ve been trying to find one like it for years. They were never quite right but I’ve always loved them. They soothe me.”

Now she knew why.

“You loved it,” he said quietly, glancing to the stone, then down at the pot heating their soup. “Can you eat?”

“Yes.” She might be uncertain about some things, but not that. He got the soup into larger mugs for them. Hot and a little salty, it added the warmth around them. “What did we do? Most days?”

“Radio. You did projects around here. Sometimes you danced. I chopped wood. We read to each other.” A quick smile on that one. “Sometimes we just talked. After Mary was born, we were always busy. It—was a simple life. But we maintained some routines.”

“Training?”

A single nod.

“How hard was it for you to hit me after she was born?”

The dark look he sent in her direction made her grin.

“I had to bait you.”

“Da,” he said, almost sourly. “’If you don’t train with me James, I will be unprepared for the fight.’”

She bit her lip.

“’If you don’t at least attempt to strike at me, I will grow soft and then what happens?’”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” he said, a smile in his eyes. “You’re not and you weren’t wrong. But by that point—more of my past was coming back to me and Bucky Barnes would sooner eat a bullet than expect a dame to protect him. Even a dame as fine as you and it was hard to reconcile with the Soldier’s very violent need to keep you safe. We had to split the difference. The first time we sparred, I dislocated your shoulder and I realized how very right you were. Months of relatively limited activity and no fighting had slowed your reaction times.”

She could imagine. “That wouldn’t do.”

“No, from then on, daily sparring returned to our schedule. In retrospect—I needed it as much as you. I had gotten sloppy or I would never have hurt you that way.”

Had she demanded the training because it was in her nature or because she suspected their time was limited? Or had James needed it? Neither of them were made for an idle life.

When the soup was done, she used water from the bottles to clean out their mugs while James made up the air mattress, then put more water in the kettle for the morning. He shifted the air mattress closer to the fire and they got to test the cabin plumbing.

“Buckets, I’m afraid.” His grimace earned a smile from her.

“Well, it could be worse.” She’d definitely had worse. They took turns and while it wasn’t the most pleasant task, they took care of it efficiently. She volunteered to deal with it and he just gave her a droll look before taking it outside. They’d added electric blankets to the air mattress and it was close to the fire. At least they could sleep warm. Using a toothbrush she got her teeth clean. They had brought disposable wipes t clean up. And she’d stripped out of more of her layers, down to just a heavy sweatshirt and yoga pants, thick socks and knit cap when James made it back inside with the bucket.

“I cleaned it,” he said then sat the bucket nearer to the fire. “That will help keep it warm if you need it tonight.”

She nodded then patted the air mattress next to her. He stripped out of some layers then came to sit next to her right in front of the fire. His leg bumped hers. “Can I get a check-up on you?”

“Touch is fine. Still unsettled. Still wishing I remembered more. Head is—decent at the moment. I am cold, but the fire is helping.” After the last, he wrapped his right arm around her and tugged her closer. “You?”

“A little iffy around the edges. I want to say _do you remember when_… then I bite my tongue. The picture—the picture makes me miss her more. We’re here together and yet we’re not the same and I want that piece back.”

“This was my home.” That sentence took effort to push out and yet it was true. “Our home.”

He nodded slowly. “I know. Do you want to keep pushing tonight?”

Did she?

Yes. Absolutely.

Should she?

That question wasn’t so easy to answer.

“Is everything locked down for the night?”

He gave her a look then glanced at the door. Rising, he dropped a bar over it. He closed the interior shutters on the windows. Then paced back to the bed. “I’ll fix the ones outside in the morning.”

“Bed,” she told him and stripped swiftly, leaving her clothes in a neat pile between the fire and the heater to keep them warm. Her Glocks were in easy reach and she slid one knife under the pillows. It was too fucking cold for nudity and she didn’t care. She wanted skin and she dove into the blankets and shuddered even as the heated blanket wrapped around her. A moment later, James’ clothes hit the floor and the extra lights turned off leaving them with only the glow from the fire and the portable heater. Then he slid in behind her, nudging her over so she was closer to the fire and he was between her and the rest of the room. His skin was as chilled as hers, but she pulled him closer as he wrapped his arms tight. It wasn’t long before he began to warm up.

When he pressed his lips to her bare shoulder, she sighed. “Tell me a story?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you want to tell me.”

“Second Christmas then?”

Burrowing back against him, she released another sigh when he slid his thigh between hers. “Yes, please.”

“We had our first real fight—well the first real one since we’d left Russia—right at the beginning of that December…”


	46. The Cabin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Nat spend the night at the cabin and reacquaint themselves with pieces of the past

**Chapter Forty-Six**

_The Cabin_

**Natasha**

When he pressed his lips to her bare shoulder, she sighed. “Tell me a story?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you want to tell me.”

“Second Christmas then?”

Burrowing back against him, she released another sigh when he slid his thigh between hers. “Yes, please.”

“We had our first real fight—well the first real one since we’d left Russia—right at the beginning of that December…” Amusement threaded through his voice as he traced his thumb back and forth against her stomach. “You wanted to do the town run. I didn’t go often, usually once every couple of months and never to the same town if I could help it. The fewer people who remembered us, the better. Over the summer, I’d had to go more often. We were learning what we needed for Mary.”

The corner of her mouth curved a little higher. She could picture it. Babies needed a lot of stuff.

“At that point, you hadn’t left the cabin or the region up here in over a year. You wanted to take the jeep and go. You argued no one had seen you. There were still wigs from when we’d made our way and you wanted to look for some specific items.”

Just from his tone alone, she could taste the argument.

“How bad?” she asked quietly.

He sighed. “I hid the keys bad. Then I threatened to destroy the engine when you said you could just hotwire it.” Another brush of his lips to her shoulder. He was up a little higher behind her, resting his head against his right fist while keeping his left arm curled around her. Even though the air was cool against her face, she was toasty beneath the electric blankets and curled up next to him with the fire burning right in front of her.

The flames were hypnotic.

“That did not go over well.”

“No,” he said, sorrow in his tone. How bad had that fight gone? “When I went down to the car to go, you wouldn’t even look at me. Nor would you answer me. It had been a long time since you froze me out and went silent. I liked it even less then than I had when you were younger. Understand Natalia, you were my whole life. You and Mary. I couldn’t stomach the idea of being here while you were out there alone, exposed and without me to watch your back.”

Twisting, she rolled onto her back and looked up at him. “You don’t like it now.” This was not news to her. “None of you do.”

“No,” he admitted. “I could make up a lot of excuses, but the simple fact was I refused to bend on this one thing. I refused to understand that you had willingly isolated yourself during your pregnancy. You were vital for Mary to nurse and we wouldn’t take her anywhere. That meant I was the one who went. For fourteen months, I was the only person you had spoken to.”

That was a lot to consider.

“Anyway, I had trouble filling our list. My heart wasn’t in the shopping. I ended up going to another town to find the items. I wanted to get you something for Christmas and maybe another present to say I was sorry, even if I wasn’t sorry.”

His expression sent a laugh through her. The flickering firelight danced the shadows over his face. “But you were in trouble with me and you thought a gift might soften my reaction?”

“It was a fool’s hope. You do not get angry often, Natalia. But I have tasted your anger. It is cold, sharp, and potentially deadly.”

No matter how angry she’d been… “I would never have hurt you.”

“You would have kicked me in the balls,” he said, one corner of his mouth kicking a little higher. “I would have deserved it even though, at the time, I couldn’t see it. I was the man of the house. The Bucky in me said I was doing what was right. I was looking after you. Mary needed you more than me.” When she would have opened her mouth to argue, he stroked his fingers up her abdomen to her chest then to her lips. Then silently, he cupped a breast. “Mary needed _you_ more than me.”

A little shudder went through her. “I liked nursing her—even when it left me sore.”

“Da,” he whispered. “I liked it when you nursed her, too. It was peaceful…even if she got more time with your breasts than I did.”

That earned him a shove and a little laugh. “You can play with my breasts later, currently in your tale, I’m still furious with you and you were then gone much longer than expected.”

He sighed, but settled his hand against the curve of her breast rather possessively, even as he slid his thigh overs. The stirring of his cock hadn’t been lost on either of them but she just spread the fingers of one hand over his on her breast and the other against his chest.

“Not to get ahead of myself, but there is a point in this story where we make up rather enthusiastically—can we play with that, too?” The hopeful mix of teasing and leering sent a laugh vibrating right through her.

“That depends…”

“On?” He raised his brows.

“You’ll see when we get there.”

“Mean, Natalia,” he scolded and gave her nipple a little twist with just a hint of pain. It sent a bolt of lust right through her.

“I think I need to be meaner…”

His eyes narrowed a fraction then he dropped a kiss on her lips. “That will be two then.”

Another laugh. This was nice. “Stop delaying.” It was her turn to chastise him.

A huff of breath, then he nodded. “As I said, I had to travel farther to find the supplies we needed. Mostly we used cloth diapers. We could wash those out and dry them here. But she needed more clothes. You sent me for t-shirts you could cut up and re-sew in addition to baby clothes. We needed warmer items for her. The cold was deep by then. Books would be good. I had collected several. I thought about a record player and records.”

His sigh held echoes of his frustration.

“Nothing seemed to say I’m sorry but I’m never letting you endanger yourself.”

The snort she released was definitely indelicate. “You should have removed the word _let_ from your vocabulary.”

That earned her another nipple pinch and a heated promise in his eyes, but he continued, “Finally, I thought I would get you something I had never gotten you before. An impractical gift that said I cared. So I bought flowers. Then I also purchased seeds for flowers so I could grow them in the spring. I found more books and a really pretty dress, thick bars of chocolate and real milk. We usually only had powdered milk, but I thought real milk might be thoughtful.”

It was adorable, but she worried based on his tone, how irritated Natalia took his thoughtful presents. Had she understood the great strides made by their Soldat? The memories she’d recovered told her exactly how much she’d loved him and needed him back, so hopefully, the answer was a resounding yes.

“I had also picked up popcorn, fresh fruit, and more so we could decorate a tree again. Everything I could think of that we might need, fresh tea, fresh coffee and the freeze-dried. By the time I had the jeep packed it had begun to snow and the lateness of the hour hit me.”

“What time did you leave?”

His lashes dipped for a moment, hiding his eyes from her. Then he sighed. “Not long after sun-up.”

“Eight hours or more and you still had to drive back and it was getting dark or already dark?”

Contrition filtered his expression as he nodded. “It was almost nine before I made it back up the mountain and I almost didn’t then because while it had only just started snowing near Bozeman, it had been snowing here a good portion of the day.”

“I’m going to guess I was worried.”

“Moderately. There’s a divot by the door, three of them where you landed all three blades you threw at me when I walked in.” His expression took on a bit of a cheerful note. “Since you didn’t actually stab me, I knew there was still hope.”

Giggles erupted from her.

“I set down the first load I’d carried in. Then went back for the next. Four trips in all to bring everything up. You’d built the fire high and set out a big towel and a heavier blanket along with dry clothes. There was also a steaming cup of coffee and the scent of fresh venison stew. Mary was at your breast, but you said not a single word to me and it wasn’t until I’d gotten out of my gear and dried off that I realized you’d also laid out blankets and a single pillow on the sofa for me.”

Natasha put a hand over her mouth. His entire expression was so crestfallen.

“You locked your gaze on me after I looked from the sofa to you, then nodded once and carried Mary back to our room. Where I was apparently no longer welcome. I was torn between pressing it or just letting you have the night.”

It wasn’t often she got see James embarrassed.

“You were singing to Mary, so at least I could listen to you while I got some of the stew you’d also left for me. The fact it was hot and savory did wonders to warm me and offered another olive branch. You didn’t have to leave me hot food or make me hot coffee while I shuttled all the things in. You hadn’t even given me time to explain or apologize which—I was not so good at then.”

Nope, she kept her hand over her mouth because her smile was growing. This story was equal parts adorable and frustrating because she was dying to know what _she_ had been thinking during all of it. She tried to put herself in those shoes right now and he’d probably be wise to sleep with one eye open if he left her behind like that now. Though admittedly…

“Stahp,” he drawled the word and it pulled her gaze up to his. “I can almost hear your mind trying to dissect all the reasons you might elect to leave me behind or me leave you like that.”

A little shrug. “To be fair, you didn’t take it well when I planned to leave all of you in Switzerland or when I had to go take care of the kidnapping case.”

“I won’t,” he said. “I know there’s going to be times we have to separate. I’m never going to _like_ it.”

“Fair.” They didn’t have to like things to do them. “So, I kicked you to the sofa, but I left the condemned man a hot meal, dry clothes, a roaring fire, and coffee. I think I cared about the condemned man enough to make sure he was comfortable.”

“Da, but being sent from your bed and the fact you wouldn’t speak to me were more than punishment enough. That and the sudden realization that it was venison stew and we had been out of venison since October.”

“Ut oh, Natalia snuck out when your back was turned.”

His laughter rippled over her. “I set the stew aside, checked the freezer. It was packed. As was the butcher box we kept in the snow outside. It was late, but I walked into the bedroom and you were reading a book with Mary asleep against your chest and I asked you about the venison. You just gave me a look, then went back to reading.”

Natasha couldn’t contain her laughter now. It rocked through her as he couldn’t hold onto his mournful look. His smile betrayed him even as he rolled over her and pinned her to the air mattress.

“You find my pain funny?”

“So do you—how long?” She had no shame as he pulled the blankets tighter to keep the chill out while she rested her thighs against his hips and cradled him closer to her.

“Three. Days. Natalia. Three. Days. You spoke to Mary, but never to me. You sang to her. You told her little jokes. Not a single word to me.”

“Oh, my poor maligned star,” she whispered running her hands down his back as he settled his chest more firmly to hers and nuzzled the corner of her mouth. “When did I relent?”

“Natalia,” he whispered in between kisses he feathered along her jaw to her throat. “Kotyonok, sheathe your claws or disembowel me, I beg you. But I cannot live in the shadow of your silence. I am sorry I would not let you go. I am sorry I lost track of time. I wanted to find something to make you happier again and all I did was make you angrier. Please.” He pressed his lips over her pulse point and she shuddered at the gentle swirl of his tongue. “Please, tell me what I can do to make it up to you.”

Her humor fled to leave only tenderness behind. Stroking her fingers through his hair, she sighed. “Zvezda moya, do you understand now that silence is the most powerful weapon and when you refuse to hear me or what I need, you are taking away my voice?”

Reality splintered and she blinked as he jerked his head up, past and present collided in that one moment. They hadn’t been naked, no, she’d been seated on the sofa and he was on one knee in front of her.

“Da, Kotyonok, I know. I wish I could promise you I’ll change, but I will never risk you if I can help it.” He licked his lips. The room had been cleaner, the blanket on the sofa new and there was the scents of something sweet cooking and the wood smoke, so familiar an echo to what she could smell now.

“I know, but I don’t want you to forget who I am.” The words shuddered out of her and she scrabbled to hold onto them. The tears welling in her eyes hadn’t been then, she’d still been angry, but more—she’d been hurt. “You have to trust me, too.”

“I could never forget you, Natalia, you are my everything.”

That wasn’t entirely true and they’d both known it. They could be taken away from each other and they had been. “I missed you.”

His whole body sagged against hers and she had to wonder if she was the only one reliving that one imperfect moment, then his lips crashed down on hers and she gasped into his mouth but wrapped her arms around him even as he slid a hand down and lifted her. His cock had stiffened and he pumped his hips, teasing along her slit as his tongue tangled with hers.

The rub of her nipples against his chest sent frissons of sensation skating through her. He sucked against her tongue as he dug his fingers into her hip. Need pumped into her veins and she eased a hand between them and fisted his cock.

His hiss against her mouth broke the kiss long enough for him to stare at her. She stroked the crown gathering the moisture there before gliding it along the thick, curved length. She was more than wet enough and if she wasn’t, she actually didn’t care. Wanting and needing him in equal measure, she shifted her hips to adjust their angle and they didn’t look away as he eased into her in one, continuous push.

The blankets fluttered and he snagged the edges and pulled them down then nuzzled her chin then along her jaw as he gave a little thrust to seat himself balls deep and they both groaned.

“Yes?” he whispered in her ear and she nodded slowly.

“Yes. Move, James.”

It was all the encouragement he needed. No words, just his body thrusting into hers as they fused their mouths together. No chills invaded, no distance. She arched her hips to meet him, they both twisted, anxious and angling and when he began to strike that spot that made see stars with every thrust, she scraped her nails across his back.

The tension stretched unbearably until it snapped and the orgasm left her gasping as she clung to him biting down on his shoulder as he pushed her right through that one and into a second before he came. The hot pulse of his release left her shuddering. Even as he collapsed against her and she kept her arms and legs wrapped around him.

When he would have shifted, she tightened her grip. “Don’t go.”

“Not going anywhere,” he said in between little pants. “I promise.”

She had no idea how long they lay there even as he softened and slipped out of her, he stayed close, blanketing her and pressing little kisses along her face. Finally, he whispered, “Natalia, I have to add wood to the fire.”

Loosening her hold, she shivered when he eased off of her and then out from under the blankets. They couldn’t see their breath anymore, but that didn’t make it warm, not when she was still sweating a little from the furious coupling.

He stoked the fire up and then added more wood. Rolling onto her side, she stared as he moved around the room. After handing her a bottle of water and a protein bar, he nodded to the bucket. “Do you need it?”

“No,” she told him simply. She was fine. Boneless, relaxed and still vibrating with that piece of memory they’d pulled loose.

Cupping the back of her neck, he kissed her, then said, “Give me a moment.” He carried the bucket away and took care of his own business as she took a long drink of water. When he came back, he was a little chilled as he slid in with her again. She rolled right into his arms and burrowed, letting him have her warmth. The electric blankets did a lot of the work, too.

“You remembered,” he said softly.

“Pieces,” she admitted. “The words—the feeling of being hurt and not knowing what to do with it.”

“Shit,” he swore, then leaned his head back to look at her. “Of course you were hurt—I’m an idiot.”

“No,” she whispered and dragged him closer. “James, we were—barely human at times. I compartmentalize everything. It’s getting harder to do that every day and I can’t imagine what it had to be like for me when I had no idea what to do with those feelings. But I loved you—so much and I thought you didn’t trust me or feel the same way—it was ridiculous and confusing.”

They were all there, the tatters of those shredded feelings and at the same time, she wasn’t that girl fighting to be seen. Of course, he’d seen her, but he showed his affection in the fierce way he wanted to protect her.

“Doesn’t make me any less an idiot,” he reminded her, then pressed another kiss to her face. “I didn’t know how to say the things you needed to hear.”

Natasha laughed. “James, I didn’t know what I needed to hear.”

“God,” he groaned, pulling her closer. “We were so bad at some of those things.”

“Are we better now?”

He lifted his head, then shrugged. “Some. We’re still learning. Adjusting. There’s—so many layers to wade through. But I know you’re worth it, even when I don’t like something, I know you’re worth it. Don’t give up on me.”

It was her turn to kiss him. “Not giving up on you, James. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, I’m very stubborn.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed. I’ve also noticed you always put everyone else first.” He sighed. “Sometimes, I feel like I have to protect you from yourself.”

“Just don’t shut me out of the process,” she offered the concession.

“Never,” he promised. “Now, eat a protein bar and I will finish telling you about Christmas.”

A warm bubble of laughter eddied up through her. “We didn’t actually get to that, did we?”

“No,” he said, his expression tender. “We didn’t.”

So as she unwrapped a protein bar for her and one for him, he told her about that second Christmas in between bites. About how he’d found a tree for them this time, they’d decorated it while Mary kept trying to toddle around. She crawled everywhere in the cabin, and they had to secure things like the fireplace and the lower branches of the tree. She was forever pulling herself up and James worried she would take a fall.

They had to make sure she was napping if they wanted to spar because she started trying to join them. That part of the story earned a lot of groans from him because Natalia had insisted that she would have to learn eventually and James hadn’t wanted their daughter to have to fight. Natasha was fairly certain she hadn’t wanted that either, but life had never been kind to them.

Still, as the holiday grew closer. Natasha had baked goodies—including three pies one apple, one mincemeat and a third of pumpkin. There were cookies, too. Though James kept stealing them. He protested that Mary had wanted to give them to him and the delight in his eyes at the obvious lie just made her laugh.

He fixed the dog tags and smoothed them flat between her breasts while he told her about listening to Christmas music regularly and the first time _A Christmas Carol_ came on the radio. She’d never heard the whole story and he promised on his next trip to town, he’d find her the book.

That Christmas he told her about his sisters and growing up in Brooklyn some. It was also the first time he told her about Steve. Christmas morning, Mary had been a little terror with her few presents he’d managed to buy and he’d gotten Natasha a pair of ballet slippers—new ones. It was what he’d gone two towns over to find. It was also the first time he’d seen Natalia actually cry over something like a gift and the reverence in his voice as he described it along with her surprise captivated her.

When she asked what she’d gotten him, he smiled and then drew a finger down her chest. “That was the first time you said I had to unwrap you for my present. You gave me you—and anything I wanted to do with you.”

“Really?” Now that fascinated her.

“Da. It is why I understood what you were offering me with our bet.” He smiled slowly. “I was nowhere near as creative then as I am now, but I definitely appreciated my present and all the ways you gifted it to me.”

She grinned. “Oh, I wish I got that piece back.”

“I do, too. Soon perhaps… If you push…”

“I’m going to push, James, it’s me.” She could admit that easily enough. They lay tangled and he brushed a kiss to her forehead.

“I know. Wakanda soon. We will get her back for you.”

She swallowed. “We’ll find out where I took her for both of us.”

“I’d like that,” he admitted, then rested his palm against her abdomen again. “We also talked about whether we would have another child.”

Genuine surprise flickered to life as she glanced up at him. “Well, I doubt we were being very circumspect in our sex.”

“No, and we had it frequently. I was excited by the idea…I think that’s why we didn’t just leave. After so many months, this cabin had become our world. It truly was yours—you didn’t go until…”

Until they came for him and her heart squeezed. “But I didn’t get pregnant again.”

“No, not that I know of,” he said quietly.

Realization scraped down her spine. “I don’t think I was when I ran, at least not in what I remember. I don’t even know how I managed to make sure I didn’t again later. None of that…well, I don’t have facts. Just ideas.” None of them pleasant.

“I know,” he said. “I’m just happy to hold you and touch you again.”

And they weren’t being very safe in their sex now. “Do you still want to get me pregnant again?” The question slipped out before she could really examine it.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” he answered her honestly. “But you aren’t ready and you aren’t sure you will be ready.” He rubbed a circle on her abdomen. “So, we probably should be more careful except…” A wince skated across his expression.

“You want to boost my serum,” she finished for him.

One nod. “Very much so.”

“Probably not a bad idea,” she said. “Though it would be nice if I got some super strength to go with all the speed and happy healing.”

The teasing worked and his lips curved away from the thoughtful worry. “You can put me on my knees, Natalia. You are very strong.”

“I go to my knees for you, too,” she reminded him archly. “And it has nothing to do with your strength.”

“Hmm, that reminds me,” he said. “You need to debrief me on this questionnaire.”

Natasha laughed. “True. But we would need to get our phones.”

“Pfft, then it can wait.” He snuggled her closer. “Would you be terribly opposed to waking up with my mouth on your cunt in the morning? If I wake before you.”

The whole idea sent a shiver through her, particularly that he wanted her permission. “Only if I can return the favor whether I wake up first or not.”

“Oh,” he said, nuzzling her cheek. “You can always put your mouth on me. I love coming between your lips.”

“Do you?” She gave him a thoughtful look. Then nudged him over on his back. “We may need to be a little creative. Can you lie still?”

“For?” He tracked her with his gaze as she eased beneath the blankets and she grinned.

“For a little creativity.”

It took her a moment to position herself where she wouldn’t lose the blankets or tent it too much and his cock was already stirring and very happy to see her. When she wrapped her lips around him, his quiet exclamation made her smile.

He wasn’t so quiet a half hour later when she finally let him come nor was she when he more than happily repaid the favor.

~~~

As promised, she woke to James’ mouth on her cunt and a series of spectacular orgasms before he fucked her right into the air mattress. She was sweaty and laughing by the end of it when he gathered all of her hair up and then kissed her until their hearts calmed again. Some distant part of her mind hoped Friday could tell the difference between an episode and athletic sex. She probably did. No one had called an emergency for her yet and she’d definitely had a few orgasms over the last few days.

The fire burned cheerfully and it was still dark outside. “What time is it?”

She sat up abruptly and the room was actually moderately comfortable. Between the portable heater, the fire, and James’ getting her blood pumping, she was very warm. His phone was on the table and she stretched over to snag it with two fingers. It was just after seven.

“You look pleased,” he commented, running his hand over her leg.

“Well, it’s good to look how I feel…” The only problem with sweaty sex in the cabin. They didn’t have a shower. “I didn’t miss the sunrise.”

“Hmm…” He caught her right hand and stroked his thumb over her ring. “We have time… why don’t you come down here and let me try a repeat performance?”

The pleasurable hum resonating in her system gave a definite shiver at that offer. “I already need to clean up some.”

He grinned slowly then gave a gentle tug when she landed on her back, she raised her brows. “Trust me,” he said.

That was not a difficult order to obey.

Thirty minutes later, she lay boneless as he rested with his head against her breasts. “Give me a moment and I’ll pull a bath for you.”

“A bath?” She lifted her head. “How?”

He grinned. “Lyubov moya, it will be my pleasure to show you.”

Another lingering kiss before he finally dragged himself up.

He padded to their bedroom where he used the bucket. Then gathered another pair of buckets and glanced toward her before he said, “Under the blanket, Natalia.”

He was right next to the door, she scrambled right under the heated blanket and rolled over onto her side as he pulled the door open and stepped out into the icy cold buck-ass naked.

“James!”

“It’s bracing,” he called. The door shut swiftly behind him. He made a total of four trips to her surprise and he turned on the kettle to heat water. Then he dragged out a copper tub from their bathroom, it was actually not wedged down apparently. He scrubbed it out and then set it next to the fire and began to heat water.

“You’re going to fill that with hot water?”

He grinned. “It’s called taking care of you, so yes, it may take a while, but we had to do this before I got the water heater working before.”

Wrapped in her blanket, she sat in the middle of the air mattress and observed.

“Throw on yesterday’s clothes if you want to catch the sunrise. Tea will be ready in a minute.” He was still naked and frankly, she didn’t think she could adore him or his stamina more. Whether it was the cabin or the playfulness, she didn’t know and at the moment she didn’t care. There was a cockiness to his confidence this morning. More, there was a certainty she hadn’t seen in a while.

She made use of the bucket he’d cleaned out and then used wipes to clean up some before dragging clothes on. To her dismay, he dressed and she said, “You know the next time we’re on an island by ourselves, I think it should be clothing optional all the time.”

He chuckled. “Anything you want, Doll. Though you may find it hard to get anything done.”

“That would be the idea.”

“I like how you think.”

Bundled up, she slid out onto the porch with her tea in her hands. It was definitely icy cold outside and the mask shielded her face. She’d half-expected James to follow her, but he gave her time to herself. In the distance, she could just make out the red ribbon of the sunrise on the eastern horizon. They faced east. Leaning—after she tested it—against the railing, she tugging the mask down long enough to take a drink of the hot tea and then tugged it up again. The tea wouldn’t stay hot for long at these temperatures, but she wanted to savor the sunrise.

A clanking noise came from in the cabin and she smiled. James was fixing something. Or attempted, anyway.

Life up here had been—simple. There was no other word for it. They focused on day-to-day survival such as hunting, tending a garden, raising their daughter. They read to each other, she danced, and they trained. There were probably other chores, like she needed to find a way to sweep in there. She wanted to search the floors under the bed. They should probably determine what furniture in there was salvageable and what they needed to replace. If they updated…

Weight settled in her soul. She wanted to keep the cabin. Glancing back at it, she studied the thickened log walls. This had been her first real home, maybe she didn’t have those memories back, but the sense of familiarity was there. She knew things about the place and she felt—comfortable here. As unsettled as she’d been when they arrived, she found comfort in knowing it had been the site of so many pivotal moments.

Moments, she would get back dammit.

Blowing out a breath, she peeled back the mask and drained her tea before forcing her gaze back to the sunrise. The red ribboned to pinks and oranges. The sunrise was slow, gradual, as it chased the stars from the partially cloudy sky. Tilting her head, she rested it against the wood post as light began to extend its fingers over the valley and peeled back the night to reveal the postcard she’d studied the day before.

She wanted to sit on this porch in the rocker that should be out here and curl up to watch sunrises again—maybe in the spring or the summer. They needed to take the bikes on a road trip. Why not here where they could also fix this up? It could be their safe house. Their home away from home.

Tears burned in her eyes and she squeezed them shut.

Home.

Home had never really been a place. But this place—this was where Mary had been born. Oh, what if they could bring her here, show her…

_Stop_.

The air was backing up in her lungs and her heart ached. Eyes closed, she forced her breathing to slow and then she lifted her head to look at the sunrise.

It was another day and she was still here.

More, she was _here_.

It took her another fifteen minutes to trust her breathing and steady her heart rate. The tears were gone before she stepped back inside. Water steamed in the copper tub and James grinned at her as he helped strip her out of the cold gear, but before she went into the tub she wrapped her arms around him and held tight.

“Hey,” he said, his voice deepening as his smile drifted away. “What’s wrong?”

“This was our home,” she admitted. That singular fact kept ping-ponging through her thoughts scattering the others aside. “The first home I ever had.” Maybe the only home she’d ever allowed herself to have before the Tower, though it had rapidly become her second home. She’d let herself get attached.

His arms tightened before he picked her up and carried her over to the tub. She’d gotten cold outside and he said little as he gently lowered her into the water. It was about half full and so warm she wanted to sigh as it enveloped her.

Crouching next to the tub, he eased her arms from around his neck and then met her gaze. “I know,” he said slowly. “I know.” He stroked a gentle hand over her hair. “The bath is good, yes?”

She chuckled and swiped the dampness from her eyes, stretching her legs out. She could lean back and rest in the water, it didn’t allow room for much else. “Yes…how did you get so much water in it?”

“The well still pumps. The pipes aren’t leaking—that’s a miracle, but one I’m not going to examine too closely and the water heater is working, slowly but working.”

Pride shown in his eyes and she trailed her fingers against his cheek, the bristles there scraped against her hand. “I want to shave you again.”

His smile deepened. “Anything you want. Though I have plans for you after that bath.”

“Oh?”

“Da, but it’s up to you.”

“Tell me.” As much as they had been playing, they only had a few hours of daylight.

“We could take a walk—snowshoes…see if it triggers anything.” He was careful in his phrasing. “Or we could dance in here…”

“Or search the floorboards under the bed.”

Eyebrows raised, he studied her. “Or we can do that, too. Again, it’s up to you. I am also content to spend the next forty-eight hours taking you apart on that air mattress to see how well it will hold up to us.”

“No, you’re not,” she said, despite her amusement at the offer. “Oh, I have no doubts you could do it. But we didn’t come here to just for that.”

“No, that’s a perk,” he assured her, then reached for a washcloth and dropped it into the hot water. It wouldn’t stay hot for long. “Scoot forward and I’ll do your back and help with your hair. Then we can eat.”

It was probably one of the more sensuous baths she’d ever taken, but she felt much better for it. When they were done, he helped her out then wrapped her in a thick towel to dry off but only after he’d built the fire back up.

“We’re going to need more wood,” she pointed out and he chuckled.

“Oh yeah, we can do that on our walk if you’re up for it. I like having you in front of the fireplace.”

She smiled and trailed her fingers over the stonework. “You definitely did seem very enthusiastic.” Watching him from beneath her lashes, she didn’t miss the flash of his smile or the pure heat in the way he raked his gaze over her. “Course if you keep looking at me like that, we’re never going to get anything done.”

A sharp laugh. “I’d get you done, I promise.”

“You have,” she reminded him. There was a thrill in the knowledge she affected him as much as he did her. That the madness threading through her found its match in him. Or maybe it was just being back in this place, they were so desperate to find the old connection they wanted to cement the one they had now.

While he hauled the tub over to empty it, she had to admire the fact he could manhandle that large tub. He must have had to do it so many times while they lived here. She dried off and toweled her curls until they were just damp before she pulled on fresh clothes and dressed in layers. While he puttered with the water and sorting the buckets, she got a hot plate going to fix them something to eat.

It wasn’t going to be fancy but pancakes she could do and his delight when she stacked several on a plate for him along with some jerky went a long way. She didn’t even mind eating them herself. He’d washed up, but he was still scruffy.

After they’d finished eating, they neatened up around the air mattress and the blankets. They were off for now, but they could turn them on later. If they had a broom—and the one that had all but fallen apart from age didn’t count—she’d have swept.

“Bed or walk first?”

“Bed would be faster, but if we find something we might not make the walk.” She studied him.

“Walk and wood then. Bundle up—and yes I know you’re not five, but bundle well. I don’t want you getting too cold.”

“Says the man who walked outside to practically joined the polar bear club this morning.”

“I was plenty warm,” he teased. “Trust me.”

Her roll of eyes earned a huff of laughter then a proper, solid kiss as the lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. There was a simple joy in him, though beneath it lingered the torment of hope. She nuzzled his jaw. The stubble would be scratchy later and he seemed to follow her thoughts. “I’ll be careful—I was this morning.”

He did have a point.

When she realized she was suppressing a groan, she released it and his smile grew. Yes, he really did deserve to know he affected her. Another kiss, then they got began pulling on the cold weather gear. Only after she’d zipped into her parka did he bank the fire and double-check the heater’s temperature setting.

The last thing he did was send a text message and then showed it to her. The message went to Steve, Tony, and Clint.

**James**: _Natalia and I are fine. We are going to hike and cut wood. Out of cabin for a bit. Will check in tonight. Don’t kill each other._

Clint responded while she was staring at the phone with a middle finger emoji.

Something in her relaxed. “They’re okay.”

“Of course they are, Doll,” he said, shutting the phone down and sliding it into the pocket of his jacket before he pulled up his own face mask then tugged her knit cap down and flipped up her hood. “I meant it when I said don’t worry about them.”

“I know, but…”

“But nothing,” he said, his voice firm. “Do I need to take my hour to tell you I want you to stop worrying?”

Heat licked through her. “That’s cheating.”

“Tactical superiority is never cheating.”

She giggled. “Fine, I will stop worrying, for now.”

“I’ll take it.” He motioned to her mask and she pulled it up.

Outside, they strapped on their snowshoes and set off, winding north and west along a path he seemed to know. They were both armed, weapons were just a part of getting dressed, but he’d added a rifle to his gear and it was slung across his back for easy access and he had the axe in his free hand.

“How are you planning on hauling the wood back?”

“We’ll be creative,” he said over his shoulder.

The farther they went from the cabin, the sounds of the generator faded giving way to the quiet of the woods. Their breathing, the soft swish of their snowshoes, the creaking of the wood under the snow, the breath of wind through the pine needles.

All at once she stopped. She knew this clearing.

Or…

He said nothing as she turned slowly, then she motioned to the left and he nodded allowing her to take point. Ten minutes later, she stood amidst a forest of pines and spruces.

Unerringly, she’d followed some internal compass and she knew without looking at him that this was where they’d cut down that first Christmas tree. How could she find these ubiquitous details and not Mary? Not…

Frustration scrabbled against her as she debated.

“Natalia…”

“If I try—if I push…”

“You could trigger a seizure, lyubov moya. If it comes, it comes… don’t force it.”

“Have you met me?” All her sarcasm did was earn a quiet laugh.

“I know and I expect, sooner or later, you are going to ignore me and try anyway… but not out here? In the snow?”

“Pushy,” she relented with a dramatic hunch of her shoulders, but the smile in his eyes couldn’t be denied.

“That’s three.”

This time her grin was real. “Yay!”

He snorted then jerked his head back to the trail. They walked again, this time leaving some of the pine behind for more aged and dead deciduous trees. Not all of them had survived the season but still stood tall. Green trees made for terrible for firewood. Dead trees were better.

“We still own all of this, don’t we?”

“Jason and Nancy do, yes. But we are still them, so yes, we own it.” He was testing one tree before he hefted the axe. “Why?”

“I want to keep it.”

Without swinging, he turned to study her. “Yeah?”

“Mary was born here.” He wouldn’t need any other explanation. “But it was also our home.”

He nodded slowly.

“And we could road trip the bikes out here in the summer…come fix it up. Stay for a while.”

While she couldn’t see his mouth she didn’t doubt his smile.

“I’d like that. Maybe bring Stevie this time.”

“Maybe,” she said. “If we’re ready to share this part—and maybe I’ll remember more then, too.” Maybe she wouldn’t be ready, she didn’t know.

“No pressure, Doll. We’ll bring him eventually.”

They would.

“You can bring Tony and Clint, too. Though Clint’s seen it.”

A laugh escaped. “I’m surprised Clint didn’t start planning a renovation it after he saw it.”

“He seemed to be measuring some things—though I think he was more curious about who we were then and worried about me to do much,” James said with a shrug. Then he turned back and began working the axe against the wood. He took down two of the larger trees, but he didn’t segment them so much as lash them together.

“Clint likes to renovate, he’s really big on that at the farm. There was always a new project when he was on leave. I think it was how he could stay involved even when he was gone and he likes to work with his hands.”

“Makes sense,” James said, holding out the axe toward her and she took it as he dragged the two trees he’d lashed together back toward the trail.

Following, she kept scanning the woods. If her bearings were correct, she would have come this way on her exodus with Mary, but the snow changed the landscape. It was deep in places and the topography might be the same below the snow, but it masked it.

“I liked fixing up the house—the door we added the first month we were here. Fixed up the porch. Expanded the bedroom. Made sure it sealed tight on all points.”

She could see it. “Did it feel good? To build on?”

He shrugged a little though it was hard to tell as he hauled the trees. “Some. I wasn’t thinking so much about building as fortifying the protection around you. Mission prep—in that case, you were my mission.” Another few steps passed before he added, “But I did like protecting you, so—yes, I suppose it felt good. It felt good to know you had safety and warmth. It felt good knowing I was right there. The first time I had to go to town and leave you alone up here, I went over every single weapon and set traps all the way down to the road.”

Natasha laughed.

“I’m surprised you didn’t do that this time.”

A wink. “Who says I didn’t?”

No, she wouldn’t take that bet. Once they were back to the cabin, he took the axe and began to break up the trees, then split them. It didn’t take him long to break it all down and she had already begun hauled it up and stacking it by the door. James had cleared a lot of the snow earlier.

“We’ll have to work on the porch first thing, repair those steps. Upgrade the generator and I’ll have to go through all the pipes and maybe get us a tankless water heater.”

“Tankless?” Where had that come from? “How do you know about tankless water heaters?”

“I know things,” he said, then surveyed the wood. “C’mon, we need more.”

It took them two more trips before he was satisfied with the stack. Each time they went a little farther or in a slightly different direction. He didn’t say anything about where they went, but she didn’t miss his expressions. These locations all meant something to him—maybe to her, too, but she didn’t know what it was yet.

The frustration tangled in the back of her mind like briar branches snagging at her as she brushed against them tempted to try and press through the thorns but aware there was a threat if she did.

The other side might have answers or dragons.

Probably both.

_Dragons_.

Those didn’t seem so farfetched right now.

When he’d finished splitting it all, they took the time to stack a large section of the wood inside. James got the fire going again. After she stripped out of the heavier gear, she headed into the bedroom.

It was the third board she tried, one she could reach by just extending an arm under the bed. James had to help her yank it up. Time and aging had warped the wood. Unsurprisingly there were also more weapons. His eyes were pure affection when laid out the knives and the guns.

“Repair the floors,” they said almost in unison, though their laughter fled when he retrieved two heavy files from under the floor, both wrapped in plastic and sealed.

Even through the plastic she could read the name on the first one. She exhaled—they’d found the dragons.


	47. Poker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Bucky and Nat head off, Steve stares at the hours ahead but Clint and Tony won't let him brood

**Chapter Forty-Seven**

_Poker_

**Steve**

_The Day Before_

The door closed behind them and Steve exhaled. He couldn’t shake the feeling something was off. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Touching his comm, he said, “Friday, you have active tracking on the bracelets running, right?”

“I do, Captain Rogers. I will notify all of you immediately if the signal drops.”

That helped. Some.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Still, he didn’t re-board the quinjet immediately. Two days. Two nights. If all went well, they would be back in about forty-eight hours. Though, there was every chance they could be back sooner. The interior of the hanger was bitterly cold; he could only imagine how cold it would be at higher elevations.

They would be fine.

He had to keep repeating it like a mantra.

Even if they weren’t fine emotionally, they had each other.

Blowing out a long breath, he scowled. The next two days were going to drag…

“Hey Cap,” Clint called and he glanced back to find the other man on the ramp. “Some of us prefer the heat dialed up and staring mournfully at that door isn’t going to bring them back fast. So get your ass in here. We’re setting up cards.”

They were what?

Clint disappeared back into the quinjet so Steve gave the hangar door one last look before he turned and headed up the ramp. At the top, he hit the button to close it. The center of the quinjet had been changed; a green felt top table now occupied the space with three chairs, poker chips, and cards in a dealer’s shoe.

Unzipping his jacket, he raised his brows.

“Dial up the heat in here, Baby Girl,” Tony said. “Let’s get the chill off.”

Clint stood by the single-cup coffee maker. With the ramp closed, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the interior. “Your pot is on its third pour, Cap. Grab some food.” Food, as it turned out, was a huge platter of sandwiches. Tony had apparently stocked them well.

“We’re going to be here a couple of days, we need to eat,” Tony told him. “We’ve got facilities aboard, but the best we can do for reheating is a microwave. So cold cuts sounded more appetizing.” For his part, he’d stripped out of his heavy coat, and separated chips into three even stacks. They were all dressed in layers, even Steve had an Army sweatshirt on over his t-shirt. Jeans and hiking boots. More for if he ended up going out. Natasha had on snow pants over her yoga leggings. They all had cold-weather gear if they needed it.

“I think I’ll…”

“You’re not sitting the game out,” Clint told him with a pointed look. “You’re not going to brood or sit over here and worry. We’re going to play cards, eat food, and tell bullshit stories to pass the time.”

The last thing he wanted to do was play cards. “I can just…”

“Sit your ass down,” Clint said bluntly, filling a cup with coffee before handing it to him. “Don’t argue. Don’t glare. Don’t try the _Captain America Doesn’t-Approve-of-You_ frown, I’m immune. I’ve spent a decade and a half dealing with icy looks from a Russian assassin who could absolutely kill me with her pinky. You are nowhere near as scary.”

Amusement stealthing past his worry, Steve found himself hard-pressed not to smile as he accepted the coffee. “That a fact?”

“Pretty much. Besides, Tony’s fronting us both ten grand. We keep whatever we win. I can use the cash, so feel free to lose.”

Tony snorted. “You keep telling yourself that, Clint. I’m feeling lucky.”

“That’s the lack of Natasha being present giving you delusions of grandeur,” Clint said with a smirk as he carried his coffee and a plate with a couple of sandwiches over to the table.

Steve helped himself to a few thick roast beef ones before he joined them. “Last I checked, Natasha wasn’t allowed to play poker.”

“Tower rules,” Tony said. “No card games for Red and definitely no board games.”

Clint chuckled. “Chicken.”

“I don’t consider prudence a cowardly act,” Tony said tartly before taking his own sip of coffee. “Besides, the woman has an unbeatable poker face. It’s really annoying.”

Amused, Clint took a bite of his sandwich and shook his head.

Natasha did have a couple of tells, but only when she relaxed and wasn’t deliberately masking her reactions. “Her training gives her an advantage.” Steve could recall plenty of nights in the beginning when different games came out as first Tony, then Bruce, and occasionally even Thor attempted to see if they could find a way to crack her reactions.

What began as a curiosity escalated in frustration. Though her poker face had nothing to do with why board games were off the table. Steve could appreciate her no holds barred attitude toward the game and Thor had encouraged. Everyone else? Not so much. Though if you got Clint and Natasha both fired up, almost everyone else wanted out of the game. They really did treat it like a tactical exercise. Once you recognized it, there was still an element of fun.

“Exactly,” Tony said. “Five card stud or Texas Hold ‘em, pick your poison.”

“Texas Hold ’em,” Steve answered and Clint nodded.

“Fair enough,” Tony agreed, then nudged their chips over to them before he rose to grab his own sandwiches. “We’ll rotate dealer every few hands. Watch Clint, he’s got great sleight of hand.”

With a snort, Clint flipped Tony off then took another bite of his sandwich.

“Fifty dollar antes,” Tony continued as he returned with a couple of sandwiches and another cup of coffee. “First bet will go to Steve since he’s on my right, you get the first bet before the flop—you need me to go over the rules?”

“Sure,” Steve told him, taking a bite of his sandwich. Clint shot him a look as Tony went over the basics and Steve focused. A couple of rules had been shifted because they were a smaller game, but otherwise, they were all familiar. Just because Tower rules said Nat couldn’t play cards or board games with them didn’t mean Steve hadn’t played cards with her more than once.

“Good?” Tony checked with him.

“Good,” Steve said with a nod. The Commandos always had a running card game and Bucky had usually been the guy cleaning up at that table, but Steve had been known to take a hand or three.

“How we looking out there, Baby Girl?” Tony asked.

“Some snow is forecasted tonight at higher elevations, though only a dusting is expected locally. Temperatures will dip well below zero after the sun goes down. Otherwise, all quiet, Boss.”

“Excellent, let us know if it changes.” Tony dealt two cards to each of them, Steve first, then Clint then himself. “Bets to Steve.”

Not looking at the pair in front of him, Steve just tossed another fifty chip to land with their ante.

“Call,” Clint nudged his in and then Tony did the same.

The flop came next. Ace of Clubs, Ten of Hearts, Five of Spades.

Clint tossed another fifty in and it went around. On the fourth flop card, a Three of Clubs, Steve checked the pair in front of him. He was sitting on the King of Hearts and the Ace of Spades. One pair. Not bad. Clint and Tony both called. Possible straight for someone though if they had a two or a four.

The fifth flop card, a second Ace. “Pair of aces on the table, straight possible with aces low for the right player,” Tony said with a chortle. “Hundred.” He tossed the chips out.

Just because it was possible, didn’t mean anyone had it. A straight beat three of a kind. “I’ll see the hundred and raise you fifty.”

“Table has some action.” Tony grinned as he patted it twice. “You in or out, Clint?”

“Call,” Clint shoved three fifty chips into the pile, and then Tony studied them both.

“I’ll see your fifty and raise you another hundred.”

“Call,” Steve said easily enough even as Tony squinted at him. Steve just met his gaze calmly and only took a sip of his coffee when Tony transferred the attention to Clint.

“Call.” The bland look Clint wore was pretty damn inscrutable. Steve would give him credit for that.

“All right. Two pair,” Tony announced. “Aces and Tens.”

With a snort, Clint flipped his cards. “Two pair. Aces and Fives.” Tony’s hand beat Clint’s easily.

They both looked at Steve. Flipping his cards, he said, “Three of a kind. Would that make the pot mine?”

“You are such a ringer, Rogers,” Tony said, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “But nicely done.”

“Never said I didn’t know how to play,” Steve told him easily as he collected his chips and added them to the stack in front of him. The played cards were removed.

“No,” Tony said, genuinely amused. “You did not. I think this game just got truly interesting. Antes in.”

Three fifty chips landed and Tony began the dealing. The next few hands went swiftly, as did the food. Steve had to refill his coffee once and they paused to let Clint and Tony make more each. Clint took the next three hands with Tony scoring the two after that. When Clint took over dealing, Steve won three rounds in a row, but Tony took the three after that. For the most part. They were falling out pretty even.

Steve took his turn at the dealing and Clint picked up another hand, then Tony, then they traded off the lead. Steve cleaned up on a couple of the larger pots, which helped replace his earlier losses. While he hadn’t been interested in the beginning, every hand had let him relax a little more. Then all their phones buzzed.

“Sergeant Barnes is reporting they have arrived at the cabin and they have offloaded their gear. It’s still secure, weather tight. Nat is well. He will check-in in the morning.”

“Thank you, Baby Girl, tell him to stay safe and warm. We’re good here,” Tony said as he blew out a breath. “So, just getting there didn’t trigger a big memory flood.”

“No,” Clint said slowly. “Bucky wouldn’t be almost dead on time with that check-in if it had.”

Two and a half hours since they’d left. They’d made good time and chances were Bucky gave her time before he checked in. Steve’s phone buzzed a second time and he pulled it out.

“Getting fruit,” Tony said. “Got blueberries and blackberries. You guys want any?”

“I’m good,” Clint said. He still had half a sandwich left.

“No, thanks, Tony,” Steve answered as he glanced at the message Bucky sent all of them including Friday. The second message came straight to him.

**Bucky:** _ She’s okay. The cabin didn’t trigger her, but she’s still unnerved._

**Steve:** _ Unnerved because she doesn’t remember or she is remembering?_

**Bucky: ** _Not remembering yet, not really. I think it feels familiar. That has to be frustrating._

**Steve:** _ Take care of her and you. You good?_

**Bucky: ** _Planned on it. I’m fine. Nice to be back here. Hard to explain. You good?_

Steve allowed himself a faint smile. Bucky didn’t need to explain.

**Steve:** _ Yeah, Buck. I’m good. _

There was no response after the message was read. Not that he expected one. Tony returned with a bowl of berries and eyed him. “All good?”

“Yep,” Steve said and more of the tension in his spine relaxed. The possibility of her stroking on arrival had passed. Maybe he’d worried for nothing and he’d be damn happy with that possibility. “Antes in.”

“So,” Clint elongated the single syllable as he tossed his chips in. “I said we’d do some bullshit stories and now that they’ve checked in, you two can focus. Who goes first?”

Steve glanced at Tony and Tony grinned. They both looked at Clint.

“Saw that one coming…” The other man grinned. “Fine… few years back, I get summoned to a meeting room level 75, walk in and there’s Coulson filling out a stack of paperwork and Fury’s leaning against the wall, looking like he’s got all the time in the world. Three guesses why I was called in… go.”

“You forgot to fill out a form,” Tony said. “They are very big on their triplicates. Takes extra time to shred them.” He tossed in a chip to call.

Clint snorted. “I’ll give you that, I probably did skip a form but if I did Coulson had my back. But nope, that wasn’t why they called me up there.” He glanced at Steve. “Guess?”

He studied the archer for a moment then tossed in a chip. “How long ago?”

“Good question,” Clint commented. “Seven years ago.”

“Hey, I didn’t know we got to ask questions,” Tony argued. “I want a do over on my guess.”

Cocking his thumb and forefinger, Clint grinned. “No.”

Seven years before, that would have been 2009. The same year Bucky shot her. “Before or after Odessa?”

The quiet grew a bit more uncomfortable. “Before,” he admitted. “About three months before.”

“Sorry,” Steve said. “Didn’t mean to be a buzz kill.”

“You’re not,” Clint assured him and Tony saluted him with a blueberry before he took another bite.

So this was after Pierce sent her to Afghanistan and before he sent the Winter Soldier to take out the engineer she was protecting. “Op briefing for STRIKE Team Delta.”

“Close,” Clint said. “But no.”

“Oh—then they wanted to give you a promotion and a raise because they are warm and fuzzy guys,” Tony snarked and Clint actually laughed.

“You know, that would probably have been less uncomfortable. Nope, they called me in because an internal audit of all mission reports launched by, I shit you not, an archivist. Fury and Coulson had a bet.”

“That doesn’t bode well.” He didn’t know Coulson. Not really.

“Huh, the Pirate King and Agent had a bet.”

“Yep,” Clint said raising on the last card of the flop.

“Going to tell us what the bet was?”

“Maybe,” he evaded. “The point is, they called me up there because they had a bet and they needed it settled.” The other man shook his head. “So I said, fine, what do you need?”

Steve checked his hand as Tony called, then he tossed in a couple of extra fifties to raise Clint’s bet.

“Coulson, calm as you please, doesn’t even look up from the papers he’s reviewing and says, ‘We need to get Agent Romanoff on the phone.’”

Tony frowned, but Steve raised his brows. “She was on an op.”

“Oh yeah and she does not like to be interrupted when she’s working,” Clint said with a grin. “So here I am, the sacrificial lamb. Tried her number, course she doesn’t answer. She’s got a burner. Try the burner, get some guy named Bruno—Bill-Buster—Randolf…his name was Randolf.”

The bet rose once more before they were done and Clint flipped his cards. He had a solid two pair, Queens and Jacks. Steve showed his, four of a kind—his two queens plus the two on the table.

“Damn,” Clint said, but Tony only smirked.

He flipped his cards over. “Come to Daddy,” he said with no small amount of glee. His King and Jack gave him a royal flush.

Shaking his head, Clint stood and stretched. “So Randolf tells me that _Nicki_ can’t come to the phone right now, she’s all tied up. He’s smirking away and smug. So I tell him he can put her on the phone or he can sleep with one eye open…Coulson’s slid me over a piece of paper with the guy’s home address and the name of his dog.”

“You’re not going to kill a dog,” Tony argued.

“Hell no, I’m not going to kill his dog. He doesn’t know that. Probably take the dog home to the kids. Anyway—gets me Nat on the phone.” He shook his head. “Bear in mind, we’re on speakerphone and she’s irked—you can just hear it in her voice.” Clint’s grin grew. “The single syllable _what?_ is very definitive.”

Steve recognized that one. She didn’t snap so much as strike, verbally, with a particularly hard jab that could take out a kidney in a single word.

“So I say, ‘Honey, I know you don't like to be interrupted when you're working, but…’” Now Clint’s laughing and there’s a hint of tears at the corners of his eyes. “She’s quiet for less than half a second before she says, ’But what, sweetheart? Don’t you know how long it took me to get this appointment?’ Now I know _I’m_ in trouble and this is why they called me up there so I could take the heat. ‘I do, honey, I really do, but Big Daddy and Uncle Phil are in a bit of a bind and you’re the only one who can settle them down.’”

“Big Daddy and Uncle Phil,” Tony snorted. “I’d pay for pictures of Fury’s face when you said that.”

“It wasn’t so bad.” The shoe was back to Tony and they all ante’d in. While he was mildly amused, Steve couldn’t quite get past the crap Fury had pulled before and since then. Still, Clint’s amusement was contagious. “I know she has to be debating whether or not this is important or only somewhat important. Somewhat, she’ll find me after the op. Asking her to throw an op is a big deal, but Fury is right there and they want her pulled out so I say, ‘Rapunzel needs to let down her hair,’ it’s an old code and weird one. She really didn’t like fairytales, you know, so if Rapunzel has super long hair, why couldn’t she get herself out?”

That sounded like Nat. They barely spoke as they ante’d, played, and Clint took the hand.

“She sighs and I know I’ve got her, then she says, ‘Do you mind waiting?’ And of course, I don’t. Randolf or whatever makes some snide remark in Portuguese maybe—could have been Romanian. Dunno, not one of the languages I speak. Now, as much as I hate her hostage gambit, it works for a reason and it is a thing of beauty when she flips it all on their heads. So I lean back in my seat, feet up and listen—I’m trying to track the fight because the call doesn’t disconnect. Phil doesn’t even pause in the paperwork.”

Steve leaned forward, ignoring the cards for now because between the two in his hand and the flop, he had nothing. Popping another blueberry in his mouth, Tony was leaning forward, too.

“There is a series of grunts, Randolf is down in nothing flat. I can hear gunfire in the distance and shouts, nothing close enough to touch her. There’s another grunt and this one has some crunch to it, definitely a broken arm and probably a dislocated kneecap. Closer gunfire, all of it muffled—probably used the body as a shield. Then the gunfire cuts off abruptly—very meaty thunk of something hard hitting. Thinking she took the gun and probably broke the guy’s nose. There’s some wood crashing. Then another body goes down. Now the shouting gets closer and there’s quiet for a minute as the guys arrive and I can hear them—I’m gonna say five of them based on breathing patterns.”

Clint’s really into the story now, but Steve can see it. He’d been on the other end of comms with her during enough missions.

“Then she says, ‘Tsk, tsk, boys. Didn’t anyone teach you to fight dirty?’ Now I’m laughing, because one of these guys actually screams. Like little girl screams. She probably dropped down on them. It’s a lot of fists smacking, bones breaking, and then there’s quiet.”

Tony eyed him—they have one card left in the flop, but they aren’t dealing it .

“Too much quiet, so I’m listening. She’s not clear. The phone’s picked up and there’s a hint of breath, then she says, ‘One second, Dear. The others are running late. Priduroks.’”

That was morons or idiots, Steve thought. Tony glanced at him, tapping a chip against the felt. “Morons.”

Trust the Friday translation.

“’So,’ she says. ‘I picked up some souvenirs, but I couldn’t decide between shirts, hats, and these really cute bells. So I got all of them. Oh, look, here they come…’ Then the phone is muffled because she’s firing. One, two, three—eight shots, a definite reload, then four more. ‘Anyway, I got all three, but then I saw these little crystal chachkies, how many should I bring back do you think?’”

Clint’s grin grows as he deals out the last card of the flop.

“’Also, tell Uncle Phil, he should bring extra bags. I found a lot more than was on the shopping list.’ At which point, Coulson looks up and says, ‘I’ll take care of it. Are you clear?’ ‘No,’ she says all relaxed. ‘I’m walking because the guy with the keys dropped a couple of stories. I’m sure someone will offer me a ride—why was I interrupted?’” Rolling his eyes, Clint folded and Tony followed. Steve glanced at his cards and then the flop before raking in the chips. He didn’t have anything either. “Fury says, ‘Coulson swears Bolivia was fifteen missiles. Your verbal report said, ten, so which is it?’”

Tony raised his eyebrows.

“At this point, I don’t know about the bet, but Coulson and Fury are both staring at the speakerphone like she can see them. You can hear the shrug in her voice when she says, ‘There were fifteen missiles. Five of which I burned taking out the convoy. I left the other ten all packaged up neatly. Most efficient way to take out the sixty-eight cartel members and get my partner to a field hospital.’”

At this point, Tony was only grinning.

Clint holds up a finger. “Coulson said, ‘Stark is demanding an accounting for all of the missiles. He knows they took fifteen, he wants to know where the other five are.’”

Squinting, Tony said, “Bolivia…they hijacked a shipment that was destined to be destroyed, I was in Turkey. Agent called me ahead of JARVIS detecting the interference, said SHIELD would handle it. By handle it, he meant he sent the two of you.”

“Yup,” Clint said. “Now I couldn’t answer the question with any real accuracy, I’d gotten caught in some blowback, had a concussion. She stashed me in a tree and then went to clear the way. Nice fireworks though… anyway, she says to Fury, ‘Well sir, he wanted them destroyed. Tell him they were most assuredly destroyed and the other ten we saved for him, he’s welcome.’”

Steve laughed and Tony snorted.

“Long story short, there’s a pause and Fury pulls out a money clip, peels off a twenty and hands it to Coulson then walks out of the room. Coulson says, ‘Thanks Natasha, extraction in twenty-four hours. Head to Lisbon, take the night for yourself and we’ll see you day after tomorrow—not a moment earlier.’ Then he’s out, leaving me on the phone. ‘Clint?’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Did they really just pull me off that op to answer a bet about missiles?’ When I told her yes, all she said was ‘Americans’ and then she hung up.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t get even,” Steve mused.

“Oh,” Clint said with a slow smile. “That’s very classified. But you should ask her sometime. It was pretty sweet.”

“That was good… break,” Tony said as he stood up to stretch. “Then I want to hear about the bear.”

“Bear?” Clint frowned and it was Steve’s turn to smile. Had she not told Clint about the bear?

“Yeah,” Tony answered. “Bear.”

After Tony vanished in the direction of the quinjet’s bathroom, Clint checked his watch again. “Let’s put a pin in that for a minute, I’m going to call Laura.” He got another cup of coffee going then grabbed his coat and hat.

“We can step out,” Steve offered.

“No, this is good. I need to move anyway.” Clint rubbed his thigh. “Sit too long and everything gets stiff. So, I’ll take a walk and talk to my wife. Probably gonna be a bit. You and Tony good for that long?”

“Pretty sure Steve and I can behave long enough for you to catch up with Laura,” Tony said as he emerged. “We’ve even been known to sling a few jokes.”

Clint slid a look from one to the other and it hit Steve all at once. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “We’re fine. You don’t have to play peacemaker.”

“Cool, be back in forty-five then.” Bundled up and coffee cup in hand, he hit the control to lower the ramp and strolled out into the cold dark of the hangar, though low lights were on the sides. A chill rolled in, but Tony hit the button to close it for them.

“Open that up for him when he gets back, Baby Girl. And if there’s a way to turn up the heat in that office he’s heading to, probably a good idea.”

“On it, Boss.”

“Not sure if I should be insulted or not,” Steve said as he straightened up his chips and slid the cards together.

Tony stretched. “Just figured out he was babysitting us?”

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head. It made a weird amount of sense. “But it’s really not flattering.”

“It’s his way of alleviating Red’s concerns.” With a shrug, Tony munched on a couple of blueberries. “And in all fairness, a few weeks ago, we needed one.”

Yeah, Steve couldn’t argue with that. “We’re better.”

“That a question?” Tony eyed him.

“Maybe?” Then Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “No, not maybe. We’re definitely better.” Natasha’s request aside, he had no problems with Tony. The man had gone above and beyond to get Natasha back and he’d been invaluable every step of the way with her recovery from being relentless in tracking down Strange, modifying his equipment, trying to find a way to supplement her serum that wouldn’t force her to deal with the touch sensitivity. Helping to make Christmas amazing for her—for all of them.

No—Tony had demonstrated on every level his commitment and his affection where Natasha was concerned. But he’d also listened to Steve and given him advice. Listened when Steve pushed him to rest and to eat. Listened to Steve’s questions and helped with only a hint of the teasing he used to lambast him with.

“Cool,” Tony said, the quiet acceptance offered as easily as he ate the blueberries. “Gonna shuffle this and reset the shoe. Though if you’re bored of the poker, we can pick something else.”

“Poker’s good,” Steve admitted. “Real good. It’s a hell of a distraction.”

That got another quick smile that Tony hid as he turned away.

“But you intended for it to be a distraction.”

“Could be,” Tony said. “We’re here for a couple of days. I could work on some designs, but that runs the risk of me getting obsessed to the point you two don’t get any sleep. You could work on your art—also not a bad plan. We need to put together that gallery showing for you—speaking of which, sketches? Oils? Watercolors? What are you going to do?”

“Watercolors, oils, _and_ sketches,” Steve said, deciding in the moment. He enjoyed all three mediums. “Probably have a few things already, but I need some time to actually concentrate on a theme.”

“Don’t need a theme, painted by Captain America is a theme,” Tony suggested, working the cards into a shuffler and letting it go to work.

“Maybe,” Steve said. “But Captain America isn’t painting them.”

Pausing for a beat, Tony studied him. “Fair enough. You decide what you want your theme to be and we’ll present Steve Rogers’ work.”

“Thanks,” Steve said as he got himself another cup of coffee. The brew was strong, but it wouldn’t keep him awake. Not that he was sure he could sleep, anyway. They were up in their cabin and whatever happened, happened. He’d have to wait for them to come back to assess whether it had done any damage. “And you can play the Captain America angle if it drums up more interest. Not like I haven’t served that purpose before.”

“We’ll save on the dancing girls though,” Tony said. “Captain America will get the butts in the gallery, but pretty sure Steve Rogers is the one who will sell the work.”

Steve snorted. “Next thing you’re going to tell me I have talk to all the people who come in.”

“Glad-handing is part of it. You won’t be alone.” Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. “How long do you think it will take you?”

“How many pieces do you need for a gallery show?” As much as he enjoyed the art, he’d never really pictured doing something like that. His work wasn’t…well, it wasn’t gallery quality.

Joining him at the counter, Tony got another cup of coffee started for himself while Steve got a fresh pot brewing. “Depends. The more pieces you have, the more you can sell, the more money you raise. The space I’m thinking about using to host it—at the Tower, by the way, Atrium level. Good security, no uninvited guests to the party.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, taking a sip of his coffee as they locked gazes. No one to try and steal anyone else away—especially not her.

“Anyway,” Tony said, turning to lean against the wall as the single-cup maker hissed and spit the hot coffee into the cup. “Thirty to forty pieces? Mixture of sizes and mediums—maybe one really spectacular centerpiece. Or two.” He looked thoughtful. “You going to paint Red for the show?”

Steve hesitated. “I don’t know, haven’t thought that far ahead.” She was his favorite subject, but could he auction off a painting of her? Or what if he did one of the Avengers? Like he’d done the one of her leaping off his shield. He could do one from the Battle of New York. But would that be profiting from a day where others lost so much? As hard as they’d worked, they hadn’t been able to save everyone.

“Well, again, whatever your subject or theme, you do solid work, Steve. Really solid. The charcoal sketch you did of Red and I. Damn good work.”

“Thank you. Seemed fitting—though compared to what you gave us...” He glanced at his watch.

“Building for my friends is what I do. Keeps you all safer. It’s worth it. You gave me something beautiful. Don’t diminish it.”

Steve raised his hands. “Fair. Though I’d argue your tech is beautiful as well.”

A faint smirk creased his lips. “That’s cause it’s the best.”

Chuckling, Steve shook his head. “Well, I can’t really argue with that.” Sobering some, he added, “I haven’t really had a chance to thank you—not just for the watch or Natasha’s bracelets—but what you did for Bucky. The classes. Working with him on the engineering. His arm. I thought you went above and beyond with the pardon…I don’t have words for what you’re doing now.”

“You don’t need any,” Tony said, rescuing his cup and waving him off.

“Someone should say something,” he told him. Steve was pretty sure it had started _because_ of Natasha. But it wasn’t why Tony continued. “You’re really taking care of him.”

“Well, he’s one of us,” Tony said simply, dropping back into his chair and moving the cards from the shuffler to the shoe. “He watches your back and Red’s—been known to watch mine, too. Good thing to have him up to speed. Besides, he can almost followed what I’m doing in the lab and asks fairly intelligent questions. Be interesting to see what he can do when he’s caught up to this century on all the advancements and not just weapons.”

Steve hadn’t really thought of it that way. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it for him.” After everything that had happened, he couldn’t have imagined it.

“Six months ago, Steve. This was an entirely different conversation.” Tony glanced at him sideways. “But you don’t have to thank me. Bucky has. He’s putting in the effort. I can make the offer, but he has to do the work and he’s doing it. Frankly—when he showed up from Wakanda, _this_ was not even on my radar. But it was on yours. So, maybe, I should thank you.”

It was Steve’s turn to snort. “Trust me when I say _this_ was not on my radar. I was just hoping he could have a functional, peaceful life after everything that had happened. That he’d remember and be himself. Now he’s—he’s good.” Except for his daughter. Except for knowing what happened to her, he seemed real good. More good days than bad and Natasha definitely helped there.

“Glad to hear it,” Tony said easily, almost too easily. “I figure that qualifies me for a line or two in the biography, somewhere that could be indexed under savior.”

Steve snorted.

“Brilliant expert would work, too.” Tony grinned. “Benevolent genius.”

Chuckling, Steve suggested, “Humble landlord?”

“Oh, you wound me. I’d only be the landlord if I charged you rent. Which, as a point of pride, I do not.”

They both grinned. “Generous roommate?”

“I can live with that,” Tony said, saluting him with his coffee mug.

The silence that followed was quiet, comfortable. “Think Clint and Laura are going to make it work?”

“Sounds like they’re off to a good start,” Tony said. “They aren’t divorced. I’d say it’s got a solid chance.”

“Yeah, I never knew he was married before we went to the farm.”

“Nope,” Tony said. “He and Red played that one really well. The lengths she went to protect them and, at the same time, she didn’t have to do much more that let us cling to our own presumptions.”

That was a word for it.

“You mind if I ask you something—it might be uncomfortable,” Steve said slowly. He’d been turning the idea over in his head and Tony’s comment about presumptions clinched it for him. Some things could be safely assumed, but Natasha had asked him for something and Steve needed to understand it better. “Feel free to ignore it. You don’t have to answer.”

“After a build-up like that, you probably should ask.”

There was caution in Tony’s curiosity.

“If… if I hadn’t been a jackass about the date you and Nat had planned—what would you have done?”

Leaning back in his seat, Tony danced a chip across his fingers back and forth as he seemed to consider the question. “Well, she was still technically a fugitive, so we’d probably have had to do a disguise. I teased her that we would get dressed up in chicken suits and go caroling in the park. Could have been fun. But—I’d probably have just taken her out somewhere fun for dinner—spend an evening hanging out and picking her brain. Maybe gone to a racetrack or something to race against each other, that could still be fun. Or, I don’t know, taken her up in the suit. Lots of things we could have done.” Tony shrugged. “We didn’t so it doesn’t really matter. I just wanted to spend time with her and make her laugh.”

He flipped the poker chip up into the air and caught it.

“She wasn’t laughing about much then—and pretty soon we were all busy. Kind of comes in waves. Been enjoying the last couple of weeks—except for the gas explosion, it’s been quiet. Which means the bad is going to happen anytime now.”

Steve couldn’t argue with that. “That’s part of why I didn’t want them to go up there alone.”

“I get that,” Tony said slowly. “We’re close though, Steve. It’s why we’re staying here.”

“You ever feel like being close, isn’t close enough?”

“Every day,” Tony admitted. “Every day. I deal with it by doing that,” he said motioning to Steve’s watch with his cup before taking a long drink of the coffee. Steve did the second pour of his coffee through the maker and turned it over. “I build things to keep people safe even when I’m not there. Doesn’t always work—but I’m never going to stop trying. I wanted to build a suit of armor around the world. I want to keep you out of alien sludge—and I for damn sure want to keep alien sludge off Red. I want Bucky to feel comfortable and more at home, keep him safe from the nightmares, though—arguably we’re all cracked so, that’s a fool’s dream.”

“No, Tony. It’s a good dream. Just like finding their daughter or building better friendships. You gave Natasha something to hold onto when she felt isolated. Training Peter was a lifesaver. You fix things. Sometimes you go too far…”

“Sometimes I don’t go far enough.” Tony shrugged. “It’s not always easy to gauge. But let me ask you this—what would you have done if I had taken her on that date?”

“I have no idea,” Steve admitted. “At the time? Probably wrecked something in the gym.”

“I scare you that much, Steve?” It wasn’t gloating or cynicism, but genuine curiosity.

“You did,” he didn’t like confessing that, but he could. “You and I—we’re really different. Sometimes, I don’t think we were even speaking the same language. There’s a lot you can offer her that I can’t…”

“She doesn’t give a damn about material things.”

“No,” Steve agreed with him. “She doesn’t. At the same time, there’s this fundamental understanding you two seem to share. She cares about you and I recognized that a long time ago, but I didn’t—_see_ it. That was blindness on my part. I was always the guy who waited, never thought I’d be the guy who got picked and telling her how I felt… showing her? That was not a comfortable place to be with you right there and then the connection she and Bucky had.”

Tony didn’t say anything, but the chip stopped dancing. “You guys worked it out.”

“We did. Bucky wasn’t going to back off and neither was I. Knowing what I know now—I get it. I couldn’t fight Buck—I didn’t want to.”

“So you fought me.” Tony huffed a laugh. “We’re good at that.”

“Yeah…” Steve exhaled and looked into his coffee cup. “I don’t want to fight you anymore.”

“That makes two of us and we’re not doing so bad.”

No. They weren’t. Steve drained the coffee in his mug and straightened. “Not sure I’m ready to hold hands and skip yet…” He glanced up and caught Tony’s sudden smirk. His laughter was quick to follow.

“Given time, I bet I can win you over.”

Weirdly enough, there was a kernel of truth in that statement. A very large kernel. “We’ll see,” he said.

“Yes,” Tony agreed. “We will.” The ramp began to drop letting Clint back on board. He had a quiet smile on his face despite the chill. As soon as the ramp closed, the heater kicked in to correct for the chill. “All good on the home front?” Tony asked his tone all nonchalance.

“Yup,” Clint said, glancing from Steve to Tony then back again. “We still playing?”

“Yes, sir,” Tony said. “We are—and Steve is going to tell us about a bear.”

The subtle tension, stretched by their last few minutes, eased. They could do more stories, more cards, and more coffee. He glanced at his watch.

They still had more than forty hours to go.

“We’d gone to Canada,” Steve began.

“Well, at least now we know it was a polite bear,” Tony commented and Clint’s laughter grew.

Giving Tony a look, Steve raised his brows.

“Just saying,” Tony said, spreading his hands. “Please continue.”

“We were in British Columbia on a salvage retrieval op…”

“Garbage duty,” Clint commented. “_Fun.”_

Steve shrugged. “I didn’t mind salvage so much, just needed a black box.” Still… “We had to go in quietly, which meant not a lot of equipment and we’re not in tact gear but hiking gear. She’s got a tracker we’re using to locate the downed satellite but we have about four hundred thousand hectares of wilderness ahead of us and she grins at me and says, ‘Cheer up, Cap. Now you have time to tell me your life story. Try to keep up!’”

The memory tugged at him and Steve grinned. He’d almost forgotten that part as she’d set off ahead of him, arms swinging at her sides, dressed in the jeans, boots, and a jean jacket. They both had backpacks, but they were traveling light and she looked and acted for all the world like they were going on vacation rather than finding multi-million dollar top secret equipment.

_“You with me, Rogers?” she asked over her shoulder, her eyes dancing before she hid them behind sunglasses. “This is literally a walk in the park.”_

_Five hours earlier they’d been debating the merit of peanut butter and banana sandwiches and now they were almost in the middle of nowhere with miles of wilderness to cover. _

_“Yep,” he promised. “I’m with you.”_


	48. Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now for a little break from the present as we take a brief step back to 2012 and bears

**Chapter Forty-Eight**

_Bear_

**Steve**

_Late September 2012_

Steve followed Natasha off the plane. They’d flown in coach and she’d given him the aisle seat even if she’d been assigned to it. Instead of talking, she’d handed him a magazine on hiking and told him to read it while she flipped through a different one. The flight had taken nearly eight hours with an hour of that spent in Chicago. Restlessness itched under his skin as she strolled along the concourse heading toward immigration. They each had passports—not in their names—something she’d briefed him on during their drive to JFK.

“You’re Samuel Roman, you’re a construction worker and you’ve spent the last few months building a development in Maryland. Everyone got a bonus for finishing ahead of schedule and you’re taking your girlfriend—that would be me by the way—to go camping in Tweedsmuir Provincial Park. We’ve been together for about six months, but you’re really hoping this trip cements the long-term possibilities. Not that you’re proposing or anything, but you’ve been thinking about asking me to move in.”

As Natasha explained the detailed cover, he’d been silent because he literally could think of nothing to say. “You’re _my_ girlfriend?” It was the first thing to come out and the back of his neck heated.

They weren’t strangers. They’d known each other—a few months, almost six months as it were. But still, she was—Natasha. Agent Romanoff. An enigma wrapped in a puzzle masked by a mystery that he wasn’t quite certain how to unravel.

That and she’d been sleeping on his sofa on and off for the last few weeks, now he thought he knew why. She’d been trying to get him comfortable with missions like this.

“Well it’s good you kept up on that part,” she said with a sly smile. “Do you have the rest?”

“Six months of dating, been building houses, got a bonus and now I’m taking you camping because I want you to move in with me…”

“Exactly,” she’d grinned. “I’m Natalie Rushman—easy peasy to remember. I’m a paralegal for some firm in downtown D.C. You don’t really pay attention to those details. It’s a nine to five job, which you like, because I don’t have to work late which makes planning dates easy.”

“I’d know where you worked.”

She raised her brows.

“I’d know where you worked,” he repeated. “A guy who doesn’t know where his girl works isn’t paying enough attention and definitely doesn’t deserve her. How else would I send flowers? Or pick you up after a long day? What if I wanted to take you to lunch?”

The corner of her mouth tilted. “I work for a Marble Ryerson, an investment firm. We have offices in Baltimore, New York, and D.C. I rotate between D.C. and New York.”

“I can remember that,” he said with a nod. “Where did we meet?”

“Bar.”

He wrinkled his nose. “That’s kind of cheap.”

“Not in the district it’s not,” she corrected him as she got the engine started. She’d been briefing him in the car. All he’d gotten prior was a heads up text that they had a mission and she met him in the elevator. They’d both been at the Tower visiting Tony and looking over the changes he was making, including adding floors for them. “I have a couple of bags in the back, we’re going to be flying commercial. Once we’re on the ground, we’ll take a rental car as far as the park, and then we’re hiking.”

“And what are we doing really?”

“Salvage operation. A satellite went down, sections of it crashed in the wilds of Canada. We need to get in, find it, pull the black box and get out without anyone noticing that we want it.”

“Aren’t they going to notice we don’t have camping gear?”

“Well, we don’t have anything here to throw in and our flight leaves in about eighty minutes, so we need to get to the airport and go. We’ll figure it out.”

Leaning back in the seat, Steve glanced at the passport she’d handed him and he was kind of glad they’d driven up from D.C. so she had her car. Still… “You just got this mission, too, right?”

“Yep, fifteen minutes ago. Short brief on the phone. Why?”

“You had this ready to go?” He held up the passport. It and the driver’s license were the only ID she wanted him taking with them. She also had credit cards in the envelope in Samuel Roman’s name.

Her only answer had been a smile and a simple, “I like to be prepared.”

His shield was packed in a suitcase they had to check—that didn’t make him twitchy at all. But she promised it would be secure, there were tags on it that meant TSA wouldn’t search the bag. No, he hadn’t asked how she got them or why she knew they wouldn’t search it.

That had been hours earlier in the morning. Now as they wound through the Vancouver airport his muscles protested as they gathered their luggage and then presented their passports. They didn’t even get looked at twice. She’d done something to his hair with a spray-in color. It wouldn’t last, she promised. In fact, it would wash out the first shower he took. The fact he hadn’t had time to shave left him scruffy and she’d approved of that, too.

“Don’t shave while we’re there, be easier and the beard does a good job of hiding those cheekbones.”

“What’s wrong with my cheekbones?”

“Did I say anything was wrong with them?” Those enigmatic green eyes had swept over him and he couldn’t resist the urge to straighten a little. Yet, he wondered if the sly smile meant she was laughing at him.

No one even looked twice at either of them. He was asked what he was there to do, he said going hiking and camping with his girlfriend. The gentleman welcomed him to Canada and bid him a pleasant visit.

The whole cover story didn’t seem to be necessary, but he didn’t complain.

They rented a nice SUV and were out of the airport in just under an hour. Natasha put in the coordinates in the navigation unit. “What do you want to eat?”

“Anything is fine,” he said. “But I thought we needed to move?”

“We do, but we can eat on the go and your stomach has been growling for the last couple of hours.”

“No breakfast,” he admitted. “I’d just gotten out of the shower from my run when Fury texted.”

“You should have said something. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, I don’t want you to faint on me.”

He snorted. “I’ll be fine, ma’am.”

Her light gagging noise made him grin.

“Sorry, I forgot you don’t like the ma’am.”

“Ha, you didn’t forget, you just wanted to get back at me for the fainting comment. Nice try. I give it a six on a scale of ten. You can do better.”

Entertained as he was, he really couldn’t get a read on Natasha. They’d only worked together a handful of times in the last few months, but she’d been around a lot—without Clint. After everything that went down in New York and with Loki, he understood the other man needed a break but to vanish on Natasha so totally kind of irked Steve. He also avoided asking her about him now because her answer never changed.

_He’s taking some time. He’ll be okay._

The guy needed time, but you didn’t leave your girl. Natasha had taken some heavy hits during New York and the handful of ops he’d run with her and STRIKE Team Delta included more hits for her. So, Steve tried to be there for her in the other man’s absence. It was the least he could do.

Not that she gave him much to work with—except she slept on his sofa, so he’d picked up an extra blanket and a nicer pillow for her. He didn’t think she’d noticed, but he had and that was enough. For lunch, she pulled into a place called _Mean Poutine_ and ordered a double mean supreme for him and one for her.

“You probably don’t know this stuff—showed up in the 50s in Quebec and kind of spread from there,” she told him as she passed him over the containers. The rich scents were amazing and his stomach, which had already been gurgling, began to really growl. “It’s fries, brown gravy, cheese curds, roast beef, bacon, onions, peppers and mushrooms.” A flash of a smile. “It’s amazing.”

She got them back out on the road and told him to eat. They could swap drivers when he was done and she’d eat hers, then. The food was a surprisingly tasty combination. Not something he’d have ever picked out for himself, but when he expressed his pleasure, she shot him a look with a fast grin. “Good.”

When she said they had a drive, she hadn’t mentioned that it was ten hours. Instead of eating her poutine, she’d told him to go ahead and have hers. He was still hungry and she said she wasn’t yet. It took a little persuading on her part. When they stopped once more for food later in the day, he made her trade driving so she would eat something.

Her phone rang as he got them back on the highway. She tugged it out of a pocket and eyed the screen. The little sigh she released had him studying her in a series of quick glances. Answering, she said, “Stark what have I told you about tracking me when I’m clearly using a burner phone?”

“Should work on better encryptions, though I’ll just take an apology for you and Rogers totally ditching on me. Pepper’s annoyed you aren’t here for dinner.”

Natasha snorted. “Pepper is not annoyed with me, she’s too busy to be annoyed with my schedule. We had to go. We’ll be back in a couple of days and you can finish demonstrating your masculinity with your Tower.”

Steve bit back a smile at Stark’s laughter.

“Fair enough. Doing anything fun?”

“It’s classified.”

“You know that just makes me and JARVIS curious, doesn’t J?”

“I’m afraid that my curiosity is on a hiatus for a short time,” JARVIS said.

“Since when?” A note of suspicion crept into his voice. “Red, have you been getting on J’s good side?”

“Stark, I’m hanging up on you now—”

“Wait, never mind the rest of that—I’ve been working on code for the Legion.”

“And you’re calling me?”

“Well, when attempting to outsneak the sneaks in the government who keep trying to snake my stuff, who better than the Queen of the Sneaks?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said, her dry tone suggesting quite the opposite.

“If I send it to you, will you find the weak points and send it back?” His voice dipped from cocky arrogance to playful, yet earnest.

“What do I get out of this deal?” She took a sip of iced coffee she’d ordered with her food though she’d barely eaten any of it.

“A bottle of your favorite vodka and a chance to prove you’re smarter than me.”

“That’s not a question I need answered,” she said it so easily that Steve abandoned any pretense of not listening and grinned. He could hear both sides of the conversation clearly.

“Fine, a bottle of your favorite vodka and three hours with my new VR training system.”

“So my reward is to do more testing for you?” Skepticism rifled the words.

An exasperated huff. “What do you want, Ms. Rushman?”

“How about a please and a thank you, Mr. Stark?”

“And that’s it?” Now Tony sounded skeptical.

“Sure, you can throw in the vodka if you want, Tony, but a simple please and thank you go a long way.”

“Will you please look at the code, Red?”

“I will as soon as I get back—and provided you don’t hack into my burner phone again. Bye.”

“Hey wait, you didn’t actually tell me what you two were doing—” She hung up the phone and shook her head before plucking another fry from the bag and offering it to Steve.

“Does he do that often?” Steve had to know as he took the fry. “And thank you.”

Natasha shrugged. “Only when he wants to remind me he can find me.”

Steve frowned. “That sounds like a threat.”

“No, it’s a game. One I don’t mind playing. It keeps him from digging as deep as he might if he can’t find me.” She took a bite of another fry and Steve shook his head. “Besides, sometimes he wants to pick my brain and that part can be fun.”

“If you say so…”

“I do,” she told him and then put her feet up on the dash.

“You know this isn’t our car.” He nodded to her feet.

She crossed one ankle over the other. “Yep, I know.” But she didn’t take them down. They still had a few hours left to go and it would be dark by the time they got there.

~~~

Natasha took over the driving again for the last hour when she wouldn’t take his offer to take a nap. “Go ahead,” she told him as she adjusted the seat. “Once we’re there, we’ll find the trailhead and start in.”

The temperatures outside had been steadily dropping the farther north they went. He hadn’t seen any sign of snow, thankfully. He wasn’t a big fan of the icier temperatures.

“Go on, Rogers, put your seat back. We might be hiking most of the night.”

“If it’s so urgent, why didn’t he just send us up here in a quinjet?” That had been niggling at the back of his mind since they’d begun their hours-long exodus cross-country.

“Because that would not be low profile. SHIELD is welcome across most borders, but our activities are tracked. We’re not here as SHIELD agents. We’re here as Sam Roman and his girlfriend Natalie. This is just a fun camping trip for us. If we get a little lost in the woods, well that’s not all that unusual.”

He frowned. “So we’re keeping it a secret even from an allied government. You don’t think they know a satellite went down?”

“Relax,” she said, putting a hand on his leg. The warmth in the gesture soothed more than he cared to admit. “This isn’t about enemies and allies, it’s about compartmentalizing top secret data and equipment. The last thing we want is a madcap race against other agencies and the attention that could draw.”

That made sense, he supposed. “Why us?”

“Why not us?” She slanted a look at him. The dashboard lights offered a play of shadows over her expression. “You too good for a little climbing and hiking in the dark, Rogers?”

“No,” he said swiftly, heat scalding his neck. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“Just—I feel like we’re overqualified and that makes me question why us on an op that’s going so low-key, wouldn’t you want to send less conspicuous operatives?”

“Feeling conspicuous, Sam? Did someone ask you for your autograph when I swung into the ladies?”

He rolled his eyes. Did she ever take anything serious? “No,” he huffed out a breath.

“Maybe,” she said, the husky rasp of her voice as soothing as her hand had been earlier. “Fury trusts us to get the job done. Two people blend in much better; we can cover ground faster, and go longer. Much more efficient use of resources and if there’s an issue—we can get ourselves out of it.”

“Well, when you put it that way.” It did make a certain amount of sense.

“Now, relax,” she ordered. “Take a nap, Sammy.”

He grunted. “That’s going to be what you call me for the rest of the trip, isn’t it?”

“Get used to it, lover.” The endearment sent a bolt of shock right through his system. It couldn’t have been more electrifying if he’d actually grabbed a live electrical line. The sudden descent of her husky laughter made him wince. “And that right there, Sammy, is why we’re doing it this way. You need to feel comfortable treating me like a girlfriend if we run into someone.”

“I think I can be respectful without unnecessary nicknames.”

“It’s not the nicknames, Samuel,” she reframed his name to the given one she’d put on his idea. “It’s the level of comfort at a casual touch. If I brush your arm…” She ran her fingers down his arm. “You need to not tense up like you just did.”

He scowled. “Well, hopefully, it won’t be an issue. I’m not good with pretending something I’m not.”

“So you’re not comfortable with me?” The genuine inquiry in that question flummoxed him.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“But you just said you’re not good at pretending something you’re not.”

How did she do that? “I was talking about being lovers.”

She shrugged. “We can take the time if you really need something concrete to tie the act to, but being lovers is a state of mind and an air of comfort. It lets you touch easily. For example, take my hand.”

When she held her hand out to him, he smiled tightly and then closed her fingers and pressed her hand back toward the wheel. “I understand the concept, Romanoff. I just don’t see the need to put on a big production.”

“It makes you uncomfortable.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” he admitted, shifting in the seat. All traces of his earlier tiredness were gone. “It does. There’s a way to do these things.”

“Oh, from the good old days. You do realize the world has moved on and mating habits have evolved.”

He sighed. “Yes, Romanoff, I am aware. But we want to be low profile. Maybe we’re discovering we’re not so compatible on our trip to the woods.” He didn’t mean it that way, but he really wanted the conversation to shift from the discomforting parts.

“Fair enough,” she said. “So we’re not so good at being partners and we’re not as comfortable as we’d hoped we’d be. Stressful conditions can definitely strain a relationship and push it past the comfort zone for both parties. I can adjust so you’re not uncomfortable.”

It was a kind thing and there was no element of teasing in her voice. The silence drifted through the car and he felt like a jerk. Bucky used to give him crap about not being able to talk to a pretty girl. It seemed things hadn’t really changed. He should apologize.

“Relax, Sam,” Natasha said. “Seriously, I know how to be nice to my elders.”

He groaned and relaxed in the same breath. “You know what, Romanoff?”

She chuckled and more of the tension eased away. “I know a lot of things, _Sammy.”_

Right. The name. “My apologies Natalie.” That just sounded weird on his tongue. “You mind if I just call you, Nat? I don’t want to slip and call you Natasha at the wrong moment.”

She slanted a look at him. “My friends can call me Nat.”

Did that mean they were or weren’t friends? When she didn’t continue or offer him some insight, he said, “Good to know, Nat.” Because he would like to be friends. Colleagues and coworkers were well and good, but it would be nice if they could be more.

She and Tony seemed to be friends, sorta. Course Tony had a dame and maybe Barton didn’t mind that. Then again, if Barton didn’t want his girl making friends with other guys, he should be around more.

It was an uncharitable thought. The guy had been through the wringer and he’d come through for all of them in the end. Even if Natasha had to knock him out to do it. “I’ve been meaning to ask—how is Barton?”

She smiled. “He’s taking some time. He’ll be okay.”

Pretty much what he expected her to say, but all he said was, “Good. Glad to hear it.”

Then there wasn’t much more to talk about.

~~~

They checked with a ranger station on the way in, Natasha did all the talking and Steve gave the guy a polite nod. He pointed them to where they could park and gave them a tag for the vehicle after he wrote down their information. He offered to guide them toward a camping spot, but Natasha said, “Half the fun of this trip is it just being the two of us.”

“All right, well you folks be careful. Bears are starting to settle down, but they can be active filling up for winter. Most of the time, you leave them alone, they’ll leave you be.”

“Good to know,” Steve managed. He hadn’t considered the wildlife, but Natasha just clapped her mittened hands like she was excited.

“I’d love to see some, you know, from a distance.”

The man gave her a patient look, but there was a spark of interest in those eyes. Natasha had that effect on people. Not particularly caring for it, Steve put an arm around her shoulders as he said, “Don’t worry about us, sir, we’re here more for each other than the animals.”

She giggled—honest to God giggled—and curled into him. Her smile promised delight and it took him a beat to remind himself this was just a cover. She was playing her part.

The ranger, however, didn’t miss the action and when Steve met his gaze, he didn’t try to pretend that wasn’t the message he wanted to send. The guy needed to back off, Nata—Natalie was taken.

Back in the SUV, Natasha just gave him an amused look before they followed the narrow road to a parking area near the trailhead. The map they’d been given marked the campsites. Once they were parked and Natasha scanned the lot, making note of some cameras, she climbed into the backseat and then leaned over to rearrange their bags.

“The shield is hard to disguise,” she told him conversationally as he kept his gaze firmly forward. He’d twisted at first, but all he could see was the curve of her rear as she worked and it just wasn’t polite to stare. “Okay, this should work. The backpack should look bulky. We’ll just make more of us than of it, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed. Then she was sliding back into the driver’s seat and gave him a playful look. “Cameras for a couple of minutes Sammy, then we should be in the woods and we’ll be good. So relax and just go with it.”

“I got it.” Then they were out of the car. The air was biting. The thermostat in the vehicle said it was 40 out there, but the temperature combined with the breeze and darkness left both of them with frosty breath. He opened the back of the rental and pulled out the modified backpack she’d created. That was the funny thing about their _luggage, _it had been one suitcase for his shield and the other two were hiking backpacks. He slid his on and buckled it around his waist. The feeling of the shield pressed against his spine, but she’d rolled a blanket and put it through the middle and it seemed to mask the shield’s presence.

When she reached for her backpack, he snagged it and then held it up. At her arch look, he grinned, “C’mon, Nat, don’t be that way. Trying to be a good boyfriend.”

Throaty laughter was her response, but she let him slide it on. Like him, she wore a coat, and she added a knit cap, which she pulled down over her ears and then they shut the car up and when he held out his hand, her smile grew. Clasping his hand with hers, she squeezed his fingers in response.

They walked hand in hand for a couple of minutes past leaving the parking area, but it wasn’t until she glanced back that she nodded and released his fingers.

“Okay,” she said, pulling her phone out and checking a map on it. There was a blue-green dot that looked about fifteen miles north-northwest of their current position.

He grunted, then scanned the terrain. There was no moon tonight and even if there had been one, they had a lot of heavy tree coverage. The deciduous ones had already begun shifting the color of their leaves, but there were a lot of evergreen in the region.

“You good for uneven ground in the dark?” He’d done more grueling hikes during the war with and without the Commandos. Natasha was tough, but it was dark. “We could find a place to camp for the night.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “My eyes are adjusting, though you have better night vision, so you can take point.”

He’d intended to, but it was nice that she gave him the consideration. He checked his watch. It was after eleven local time, but nearly two in the morning Eastern. They’d been on the go for nineteen hours. At this rate, it would be after sun-up before they got to the crash site.

“You have water?” he asked abruptly. “And protein bars?” He wasn’t a fan of the snacks, but they did fill the gap when they didn’t have time for a meal and if they could keep a good pace, they would keep their warmth up—hers specifically. He may not like the cold, but he had a far greater tolerance than most.

“I’m good. Sync watches. We’ll break in three hours for water and food. Then keep going.”

He frowned. “Two hours.”

Arched brows or no, he didn’t back down.

“Two hours. You haven’t eaten much all day and you didn’t sleep. Ten minute breaks every two hours and you tell me if you get tired.”

“I’ll be fine, Sam,” she said easily but set the watch to two hours. “Ready when you are.”

He shook his head. “You can remember what to call me in front of others, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then just call me Steve unless someone else is here?” He’d rather hear his name than some mythical Sam even if Sam was involved with her Natalie. They—those people weren’t them.

“You got it, Steve.”

Better.

Much better.

“Stay close,” he said, checking his gear once and then glancing down at the map on her phone. They could stick to the trail for part of it, but they’d have to go overland for the rest.

“On your six.”

The quiet confidence settled him more into mission mode. The covers and the lying about their identities were awkward. He preferred the more direct action. The hike, even in the cold and the dark, fit him far better than pretending to be someone else.

The first couple of hours passed swiftly and Natasha seemed barely winded despite the pace he’d set. He had to remember her legs weren’t as long as his, though she hadn’t complained once. They each took out their canteens and drank, then she checked the geo-locater. They were still on the right track. After she consumed most of a protein bar, she shucked off her backpack and set it next to him.

“Need to pee,” she told him when he shot her a questioning look. “Figured you might be shy, so I’ll be over there.” She motioned toward a copse of trees. The foliage was thick; she’d be out of sight. His concern must have shown. “I’ll hum,” she told him. “If I stop, feel free to come and save me.”

While she might have meant that teasingly, he’d take her up on the offer. “Be quick.”

Her faint smirk and rolled eyes were worth it. As promised, she hummed as she disappeared through the trees. Taking advantage of her absence, he moved to face away not only from their path but from where she’d gone and took care of emptying his own bladder.

He managed to finish up a beat before her hum began to draw closer again. Natasha removed some hand sanitizer from her pack and offered him some. They washed off their hands and then she snagged a second protein bar. “Break time’s over.”

“Eat that first,” he told her. “We can make it up on the trail.” His eyes had more than adjusted, while he expected her to show more fatigue she seemed to be doing well.

After a little water, the rest of the second protein bar followed by a little more water, she had her backpack back on and secured. He was warm enough from the hiking; they had definite uneven inclines they’d been following. But the shorter breaks were better, they didn’t cool off enough to start her shivering.

He was keeping a sharp eye out for that.

The rest of the night passed in similar fashion. Though she didn’t eat as much after the first break. The lack of appetite worried him, but he couldn’t very well order her to eat. She had eaten and didn’t complain when he set the pace nor when he called an early break close to sunrise. She didn’t need the bathroom break, but he did. So he took to the woods and left her with the packs. When he came back though, she was standing on top of a rock, facing east. The streaks of red, pink, and orange radiated across the sky and she had her canteen in her hand. Her normally expressionless face bore a thoughtful look he’d never seen before.

Stilling, he debated continuing over to join her or waiting. The tilt of her head and the way the light chased away the shadows over her was a brilliant contrast. Some distant part of his mind wondered if he could possibly capture the look and the feeling and for the first time in a while, he itched to have a pencil in his hand. The few times he’d opened a sketchbook since he woke up, the interest just hadn’t been there.

“You done?” Natasha asked jolting him out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Catch.” She tossed him the hand sanitizer and he used it as he walked over to her. The air seemed even colder now that the sun had begun to rise. They’d made good time, though. They were close. Maybe another mile, two tops and they’d be at the wreckage.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She washed down the protein bar she’d been eating with a long pull of water. “We’re close.”

At her echoing of his thoughts, he nodded, but he turned his attention from the sunrise to the darker clouds in the distance. The wind was coming from that direction, but it was still quite a ways off. If it kept coming this way, they were going to run into stormier weather sooner rather than later.

“Eat,” she reminded him and he dragged his attention from the potential threat to meet her gaze. “I see it. We might get wet, but it’ll be better if we’re already on the way back to the SUV.”

“Agreed.”

He consumed his protein bar swiftly and they cut the break short. When he set out, the additional light freed them from one obstacle and he increased his pace. “You up for a jog, Nat?”

“Bring it on,” she called and he liked a good challenge.

“Try to keep up,” he said, then reminded himself not to outdistance her. But double-timing it would be better. They had no idea what they were going to find at the wreckage.

~~~

Finding the wreckage proved almost anticlimactic. She had to climb down into a gorge, but the pieces of the satellite that survived seemed scattered across a few square miles. They, as Natasha pointed out, weren’t looking for the bits and the bobs, but the brains.

Despite their breath fogging in the air, he braced the rope as she rappelled down. He wanted to insist on being the one to go, but she pointed out that she could get the black box out herself because she knew what she was looking for and he could haul her up if they needed a fast ascent.

Both valid points.

One whistle told him she’d found it. He kept a firm grip on the rope and scanned the area. It was mid-morning, but they still hadn’t run into anyone. He’d seen an elk in the distance. Huge animal. Impressive rack on it.

At this point, they’d been on the move for well over 24 hours and he could feel the edges of tired. He could go another day, probably two before he’d _have_ to sleep. He wasn’t sure how much more Natasha could take and he really didn’t want to find out. Then again, she’d still been on her feet after going toe to toe with aliens for hours in New York, he had nothing but admiration for her stamina.

A second whistle, she’d gotten the black box out. Another sweep of the area confirmed they were still alone and the dark clouds in the distance were closing in. There was a wall of rain descending from the black clouds. A whistle and a tug on the rope, he locked his legs and pulled, one hand over the other and just pulled her upward rather than having her climb.

As soon as she was within arm’s reach, he clasped her hand and pulled her up the rest of the way. Her grin was contagious. “I like the express elevator on the way up. Very useful.”

He snorted. “You got it?”

“Yep,” she said, producing a device no bigger than her phone from her back pocket.

“That’s it?” He couldn’t quite keep the skepticism out of his voice. They’d come all this way for something that fit into her back pocket.

She chuckled. “Ease up, Steve. We’ve come a long way. What’s tiny is huge in terms of data. It’s not the size of the dog in this particular fight.”

“People told me that my whole life,” he commented. “Size still matters.”

“You think?” Head canted, she studied him as she slid the device into a plastic packet, sealed it, and then secured it on the inside of her jacket pocket.

“Most of the time,” he said. “Unfortunately.” In his case, or maybe especially in his case, he didn’t get to start winning the fights until he had the size to back it up.

“We’re going to have to test that theory,” she said patting him on the chest. “You and me, sparring. You need to brush up on your skills anyway.”

He coiled the rope and blinked. “That’s probably not safe for you.”

Amusement twinkled in her eyes. “You just keep telling yourself that.” Though the light in her eyes dimmed a little as she looked toward the storm. “We’re going to get wet.”

“I see that.”

They got their gear together, but he made her drink a little more water and they both took a quick bathroom break before they loaded up their packs. Even double-timing it, which they couldn’t do all the way back, there was no way to avoid that storm.

He recalled the map the ranger had given them. They were well off the main trail, but if they cut directly west and then a little south, they’d have a better chance at finding shelter if they needed it. There were caves along that route, but it would also add time. Based on that storm’s movement, they would also reach it before those caves.

“West, southwest,” he said firmly. “Pull the hood up on your coat.”

“I’ll be fine, Steve,” she said. “I’m not so sweet I’ll melt, I promise.”

He’d chuckled, but still kept a wary eye out as they set a more grueling pace. It didn’t matter that they cut their breaks to almost nothing. They were about halfway back when the storm broke. The rain came down in sheets and then in pellets of ice. The impact was negligible at first, but it turned the route they were following into a slog and those chunks of ice were getting bigger.

The first cave he spotted, they ducked into. Natasha’s face was flushed, her cheeks chapped from the cold. She needed a mask, but they were both drenched. He checked the gloom behind them, but the cave was elevated and dry on the inside. He didn’t want to retreat back too far, but at least the lip overhead kept the rain from slanting inside. The ice continued to plink down.

The sound unnerved him, but he focused on Natasha. There was the faintest tremble to her hands. She had to be cold.

“Strip out of the wet stuff, let’s see if we can get it dry or at least not freeze while we wait this out.” Hopefully, it was a fast moving storm. They shed their backpacks and she peeled off her coat, at least they were dry beneath them though his jeans were wet as were hers. “We need to store more cold weather gear at the Tower if we’re going to be leaving from there a lot.”

Natasha opened her backpack and pulled out dry clothes and then to his shock, shucked her boots and then peeled out of the wet jeans.

“Jesus,” he swore and turned his back. His face was on fire. She’d just stripped right down to her skivvies.

“It’s skin, Rogers, don’t go and faint on me now. You’ve got a change of clothes in your pack, too. Strip and change. I promise, I won’t look.”

Hands on his hips, he rolled his eyes. “That’s not the point, Romanoff. Give a guy a little warning.”

“Didn’t you hang out with showgirls back in the day? It’s not like I’m running commando.” There was the distinctive sound of a zipper. “There, your sensibilities are safe.”

The amusement creeping around the impatience in her voice pulled a faint smile from him. “Sorry if my manners are offensive.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I was cold, I wanted to be warm. It’s not like you haven’t seen legs before. But I was serious,” she told him as she changed out her socks before pulling her hiking boots back on. They might damp on the outside, but his were warm and dry inside even if the tops of his socks were also soaked. “I won’t look.”

Boots on, she pivoted on her knees and pulled her wet things together.

“There you go, your virtue is safe from my prying eyes.”

Now she really was giving him shit.

“You know what Romanoff…”

“I do actually, I’ve seen naked men before. I can handle it.”

He groaned. “I’m not naked.” But just as he went to toe off a boot, a scrape of sound snapped his head up. He wasn’t imagining it, because Natasha had gone still. Outside the rain continued, ice plinking down faster and heavier. The rhythm of it sent the feeling of ice slithering up his spine and he could almost taste it. For a moment, he blinked and it was like ice coated his vision.

“Steve,” Natasha’s soft voice cracked through it and pulled him back to the present. She wasn’t looking out at the rain or at him, her gaze was focused deeper in the cave. “Move slowly,” she ordered.

Slowly… another scrape of sound and there was a huff of breath. A kind of rumbling noise.

He narrowed his eyes, squinting into the darkness. Natasha gripped his leg. “Don’t stare, don’t make sudden moves.” With far more grace than he’d ever possess she rose from the floor and pulled her coat back on with an almost exaggerated set of movements.

“Do not turn your back.” She passed him his coat with more exaggerated movements.

Another grunt and he stole a look back into the gloom and something moved. A big something. Steve dropped his gaze to his shield. The blanket she’d used on it was soggy and clinging, it had come half off when he’d stripped off his pack.

Dragging her own pack back toward her, she ignored the wet jeans and socks on the ground. Probably a safe bet to just leave them, she pulled her pack on and then eased his back toward him.

“Kind of hunch a little Steve, don’t look like such a threat. Big man is not what we want right now.” Nothing about her monotone, low voice suggested a threat. If anything she sounded absolutely bored. Probably a good plan.

He didn’t know anything about bears.

Another grunt of sound and there was a definitive click of nails coming in their direction. He slumped his shoulders and angled his head down slightly, but he didn’t want to not be looking. The backpack was in his hand and he freed his shield.

They were big.

They had claws.

They usually slept in winter.

It was definitely not winter yet, but almost.

Bear or not, he wanted something solid between Natasha and that animal if it charged them. He got his backpack on. They didn’t really have time to zip up their coats, but Natasha shifted sideways and locked his zipper together and drew it up.

“We’re doing great,” she told him in that same slow, monotone. “Now we’re going to back up and just keep all our movements as nonaggressive as possible. Most bears don’t give a damn about us. But we’d be grumpy too if someone woke us up abruptly.”

Sweat trickled down his spine. He wasn’t sure he could go toe-to-toe with a bear. Didn’t want to find out, either, but he would if he had to.

“You first,” he told Natasha, shifting so he was more in front of her. “I’ll be right behind you.”

No argument. “Just stepping back now, nice and easy.”

It seemed to be going well, they backed right into the icy rain and the huff of breath and low rumbling noise climbed as the nails clicking drew closer and the largest damn bear Steve had ever seen—outside of a movie and he was pretty sure this was bigger than the movie—came right toward them.

Not charging, but padding closer and closer.

Every instinct he had said pick Natasha up and run like hell. He was fast. A hell of a lot faster than she was.

But was he faster than a bear?

“Nat? How fast are bears?”

Even as he asked they had backed up several feet from the mouth of the cave and soaked from the downpour.

“About 35 miles per hour or so…”

The bear rose up on its hind legs and roared.

Unhappy bear.

“Nat?”

“Don’t run, Rogers. It’ll charge.”

It was going to charge anyway. While he might be able to take a few swipes from those claws or block them with the shield, he wasn’t going to risk her.

“We’re going to run,” he told her. “I can outrun a bear.”

“Steve…”

“Trust me,” he said as the bear roared again, and he pivoted snagged an arm around Natasha and yanked her up, bracing his shield around across her back to protect her and then he ran like hell.

The bear was behind him for a few yards, but he rapidly outdistanced it. The rain and ice slashed at his face and he kept Natasha’s head down as he ran. Even with the extra weight, it didn’t slow him by much.

Fifteen minutes later, he dropped to a jog and glanced behind them. They’d left the bear a few miles back and they weren’t that far from where they’d left the trailhead. Natasha stared at him as he set her on her feet.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know I got handsy.”

But she glanced from him to the path they’d taken then back. “You just ran eight miles in fifteen minutes.”

“Sorry,” he repeated. “Was just trying to get away from the bear.”

Her sudden laugh startled him, but it was an honest to God laugh that came up from her belly. He’d never heard her laugh like that before. She patted his chest.

“What?” he asked as she turned and headed for the car. Her steps were a little shaky and he worried he might have held her too tight. Not that he’d really had time to enjoy it. At least the ice hitting them had stopped and the rain had diminished, to something mistier. They were both still soaked.

“There’s a thing about encountering a bear in the woods…” She was still chuckling. “It goes something like, I don’t have to outrun a bear—I just have to outrun you.”

He turned the sentiment over.

Then she tossed a grin at him over her shoulder. “You can outrun a bear, Goldilocks. Need to take you on all my wilderness missions.”

Some of her laughter faded by the time they got to the car.

“Though next time, we could have gotten to the wreckage a lot faster if you’d mentioned that trick.”

He gave a little shrug and then ducked his chin as she tossed her backpack into the back and his followed it.

“You didn’t ask.”

That just made her snort laughing all over again.

Instead of driving directly back to Vancouver though, she got them a hotel room—it was the first time he shared one with her. It was also awkward as hell, but her occasional snorts of laughter when she’d look at him and mutter something about a bear helped. A lot.

They showered, changed into warm clothes, then she ordered a feast in room service. After, she pointed him at one of the beds and told him to sleep. She’d taken the one closer to the door and she had a knife she slid under her pillow and a gun, she laid right next to her.

It still took Steve a long time to go to sleep, though he thought Natasha might have drifted off right away. He was too busy cataloguing all the things he’d learned about her, trying to reconcile all the different pieces. A little before eleven, her phone rang and she had it answered before it went to a second ring.

He was still awake and didn’t miss the voice on the other end of the call or the hint of slurring in it.

“Good evening, Ms. Rushman, miss me?”

“Nope,” she answered in a voice husky from sleep. “I rarely miss what I’m aiming at.”

Tony laughed. “Good, you’re awake, I want to run something by you.”

“It’s late, Tony, you should go to bed.”

“I will, Red, but hear me out—what if instead of the complicated coding, I just put JARVIS in charge of the whole legion? That would work, right? Slave coding…been looking at it all night, takes care of all the if/then scenarios because JARVIS already knows what he’s doing and I can just say, hey J, take the wheel…”

Natasha sat up and ran a hand through her hair, her silhouette and slow movements suggesting stiffness if not pain. Course, she’d been still for the last three hours, so maybe she was just stiff.

“Honestly?”

“No, Red, I want you to lie to me.”

“Oh, good. That’s easier…”

The laughter on the other end of the phone made Steve smile and then shake his head. It was after two in the morning in New York, but Natasha spoke to him for thirty minutes as he talked out his idea. Then promised he’d go to bed right after he did one more thing.

She hung up and then slumped back against the pillows.

“I don’t think he’s gonna go to sleep,” Steve murmured.

“Nope,” she said, then stretched. “Probably going to pass out in his lab.”

The quiet lingered for a moment, then Steve asked, “Are you still awake?”

“Nope,” she said. “I’m sound asleep and not debating the logic code he just mentioned and trying to see the angles of it.” She sat up again. “Nor am I about to call and tell him where I think there’s a flaw.”

“Good to know,” Steve said as he sat up and swung his legs to the floor. “There’s a diner down the street, it looked twenty-four hours. You want me to grab food while you solve his problems?”

She really hadn’t eaten enough.

“That’s really tempting,” she admitted.

“I don’t mind,” he said. “Want anything in particular?”

“Waffles,” she said slowly. “Or an ice cream sundae. Both sound good. Or fish and chips. Definitely fish and chips with vinegar if they have it.”

He was not going to comment on that combination.

Ever.

“You got it,” he shoved off the bed and found his shoes. He was already in sweats and a t-shirt. He threw on a jacket. “Coffee?”

“Water is fine. Vodka would be better, but I doubt a diner will have that.”

“Probably not,” he said, then glanced at her for real this time. She was half-rumpled and had a crease on her cheek, but her eyes were sharp.

“Take a picture,” she said with a grin. “It’ll last longer.”

Heat ran up the back of his neck and he grabbed a room key and his wallet. “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” she said, then dialed a number on the phone. As he closed the door, he heard, “Yes, Shellhead, I absolutely called because I couldn’t stop thinking about your idea. You have a logic problem…”

At least the rain had stopped. Steve debated taking the car, but decided to jog instead. It wasn’t that far and he wanted to take some time to get his wandering thoughts back where they belonged.

Natasha had a guy. Whether that guy was around or not, she didn’t need him to mess things up.

Maybe if he told himself that enough, he’d believe it.

Still, he had managed to outrun a bear and she’d been delighted.

That was something.

~~~

_Last night_

“Outran a bear,” Clint chuckled as he sprawled on the first of the two cots the side seats converted to. They’d played for a few hours more and Steve had dragged out the story, but neither Tony nor Clint complained.

After putting away the table and the chips, they’d set up where they would sleep. While Steve was ready to sleep on the floor, Tony had set up and air mattress for him before he’d sprawled on the second cot and reviewed some stuff on the phone.

“Why didn’t you just call for extraction after you found the black box?” Tony asked.

“Because they were their own extraction team,” Clint answered for him and then yawned. “Nice story.”

Tony’s yawn answered his own. Still, it had been a relatively pleasant evening even if Steve found himself wondering if Bucky and Nat were still doing okay. She didn’t have to outrun the bear, just Bucky. Bucky could probably outrun a bear, which meant all he had to do was take Natasha. It wasn’t long before Clint’s faint snores said he was asleep.

“Get some sleep, Cap,” Tony said. “They’re okay. No news in this case isn’t necessarily bad news.”

To be honest, he wasn’t sure he could sleep. He lay there for a while, thinking about the art show and the little moments he and Natasha had shared on that mission. It had been both a trial and a breeze. After the mission, she’d started sparring with him and training him—proving her point size didn’t matter among other things.

His interest in her had continued to grow as had his curiosity. When he finally slipped into sleep, he kept thinking about the way she’d looked that sunrise and he finally understood it.

She’s made it another day and her expression took on a whole new nuance.

It had been a while since he tried to capture that moment, but he was pretty sure there were some old sketches.

Maybe it was time to try again.


	49. Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Nat face their dragons

**Chapter Forty-Nine**

_Dragons_

**Natasha**

The sudden vacuum left behind as their laughter faded weighed on her. James glanced from the stacked files to her. Blowing out a breath, she slid down and checked the space they’d opened under the floor. Finding nothing more, she put the board back.

“We should draw water so you can take a bath,” she told him. “You’ve got to be sweaty after doing all the work.”

He said nothing and she took the files from his hand.

“These can wait.” Then she carried them back out and set them down on the counter in the kitchen, away from where the tub would go.

“Natalia…”

“Let’s—we will. But I don’t want to wage war against our demons or dragons at the moment. So let me help you take a bath?” Deflect, distract, dissuade.

But he didn’t argue, instead, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her back against him. Chin to her shoulder, he murmured, “The only thing in there is the past.”

“Yeah well, our past has a venomous bite.”

He nuzzled a kiss just behind her ear. “Then I will pull the water and we can start heating it.”

“Thank you.”

It took just under an hour to heat enough water to fill the tub halfway, but James also managed to hook something up to the portable heater and it warmed the copper tub, which kept the water steaming as they added to it. Finally, he stripped and settled in the water. The evidence of her nails on his back were almost gone, but she sat next to the tub and ran a wash cloth over his back aware of him studying her.

It was nice to wash his hair, especially when his eyes closed as she massaged his scalp. The whole time she turned the presence of those files over in her head. They were more than familiar. She remembered seeing files just like them. One, she’d put together herself when she’d tried to figure out who the Winter Soldier was and then later she gave it to Steve when he’d been hunting for James. There had been similar files in Azzano, inside the boxes they’d taken. Boxes now stored at the Tower. She hadn’t thought about them in a while, more she’d avoided thinking about them.

There was a photo album, too with more files, that James and Tony had found. More concrete information of where she’d come from. An experiment from start to finish… Despite trying to focus on James, every single thought collided in her head. So many damn questions.

Nowhere near enough answers.

Still, he lingered in the warm water when they’d finished and resumed his quiet study. “You’re going to make me ask,” he said finally.

“No,” she admitted. “I know we need to open them.”

“No, we don’t,” he said slowly and she met his sober gaze. The pale blue of his eyes was unchanging. With the slightly wrinkled fingers of his right hand, he touched her cheek. “You don’t have to do anything. We can throw them in the fire and let it burn. Those files are from before the cabin, not after. If you never remembered some of _those_ things you’ve forgotten, I would be okay with it.”

“That bad, huh?” She raised her brows. There was no point in pretending she didn’t understand.

“Yes.” A long sigh escaped him. “You shouldn’t have had to experience those moments the first time.”

“Oddly enough, that pain doesn’t worry me. Not when you’re in those moments, too, James.”

His expression tightened, but she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

“It doesn’t—I know why it bothers you. The same reason why every memory I have of them hurting you bothers me.” He didn’t want her hurt and she was the same way.

“We’ve known enough pain, Natalia.”

Yes, they had. “So, how can those files hurt us?”

“You hid them for a reason.”

“Yes, _she_ did, but I don’t know what it was. I know why I hid the photo and the birth certificate. I know why I kept those. But the files?”

“You’re going to open them.”

“Of course, I am,” she said as his faint smile mirrored her own. “But you knew that.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, then wrapped his hand around her nape and pulled her in for another kiss. After, he asked, “Want me to refill this for you?”

“Not now. I didn’t do the hard work. I just got to watch you be all strong and manly.”

He chuckled and gave her nape a squeeze. “You’ve never cared about that.”

“No,” she admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy pitting myself against your strength.” Against any of them really. She liked being able to win or hone herself to be faster or sharper. “But that’s not what I love.”

The lines at the corners of his eyes softened. “I know.”

Another kiss, this one kinder and sweeter. The variety helped blunt the harsh darkness hovering around the perimeter. “I’ll get you a towel.” She didn’t have to go far. They’d hung hers by the fire to dry and it was warm. While he toweled off, she added more wood the fire, then got hot water going.

Once he wrestled the tub out and emptied it again, she fixed them tea with vodka and they made a picnic of protein bars, white cheddar popcorn that she’d bet Clint had stuck in their bags along with animal crackers. The latter of which just made James laugh.

Sofa and table in front of the fire and the heat dialed up on the portable heater, she settled on the sofa next to him with the files in her lap. James offered her the bag white cheddar popcorn and she snacked on two before she pulled her knife and slit through the plastic.

The scent of old dust and file rooms wafted out reminding her of industrial cleaners and closed air. A shudder climbed her spine. Yellowing lights, careless shadows, and racks of metal shelves filled with cardboard boxes—a banal, bureaucratic shrine to the basest of careless evils. Experiments and tortures devised to see what would happen, the pain they inflicted had really just been an afterthought.

The scent of the aged paper and old ink tickled her nose. Turning her head, she pressed her face against James’ shoulder for a moment. He rested his hand on her knee, waiting. Two deep breaths and she packed it all away. The raw emotional reactions were going to make her miss something and she needed to be in the right headspace to examine the files.

_Here there be dragons…_

The first file was labeled _Chernaya Vdova. _

Black Widow.

The one below it _Proyekt Soldat._

Project Soldier.

“You want yours or do you want to read them together?”

“Together,” he suggested, then squeezed her knee gently. “As long as that’s fine for you.”

No time like the present. She flipped open her folder and stared at the first two pages. A fat red stamp at the bottom indicated the office of General Karpov. It was a mandate ordering her immediate revision.

_The Black Widow has been instrumental in several key missions over the last three decades, but currently, no replacement has proven their mettle. At this time, the singular focus of the Red Room is in question because they have been unable to reproduce another candidate of the Black Widow’s caliber. _

_Revision is therefore recommended and demanded. The Black Widow will be wiped and placed in cryostasis and released only when critical missions demand her specific skillset as a member of the Winter Soldier program._

_Revision ordered for autumn following successful completion of latest assignment. If possible, prior to cryostasis, harvesting is also recommended for the Revival Project. Current analysis offered by Doctor Morozov is long-term cold storage may allow full regeneration and restoration of damaged areas allowing the harvesting of eggs for future generations. _

_Submitted to General Karpov July 1971. Approved by General Karpov August 1971._

That was why she’d run.

James had gone absolutely tense and still next to her.

Natasha flipped the page. Diagnostics from Doctor Morozov including a detailed breakdown of the sterilization process and the suggestion that it had begun to show signs of healing.

Attached was a report of her last physical, marked critical, _Eyes Only_.

It was the only copy.

The next few pages included suggestions for not only harvesting eggs, but also detailed analysis as to why earlier attempts had failed. The list of dates on the page made her sigh.

Subsequent pages included testing data from a host of clinical trials from poisoning to pain to how much blood loss could she sustain before she lost consciousness. Injury recovery times.

There were notes about improvements from year to year.

She’d gotten stronger and faster in her healing. Probably because of James.

They hadn’t made that correlation.

Not yet.

No wonder she hadn’t gotten pregnant earlier. If what Helen thought was true, constantly healing traumas, her serum never had a chance. The summaries of mission reports were next—unredacted.

The little jerk next to her pulled her attention as James scowled at the page.

“We can stop,” she said, her voice as even as she could make it. The current mission summary wasn’t one she was familiar with—but that made sense. It had been with him. They’d strip-mined him out of her.

He shook his head. “I just remember that mission.” He offered nothing more.

Natasha studied him, the white knuckles on his right hand and the thinning of his lips as his mouth compressed.

After flipping the file shut, she reclaimed her mug then turned on the sofa and faced him.

“Please don’t ask me, Natalia.”

“I’m not going to,” she promised. Anything that reflected that kind of upset couldn’t be good. “But I’m not going to keep reading those with you if it’s going to hurt you, either.”

He sighed, head tipped back against the sofa. “I know you want to review all of it.”

“I want to remember it… I have a feeling that letter in the front is as much a part of why I ran as finding out I was pregnant.” She frowned. “That mission report was from May 1970.”

He nodded.

“Did I have no other missions between then and the one we went on in August of ‘71? The one we left after?”

August… Mary was born in April of ’72. If she had a typical pregnancy of forty weeks, she had to have been a couple of months along already when they left.

“No,” he said slowly. “There were others but I wasn’t with you for all of it. You were in deep cover… I visited you each week to retrieve your mission report.” He smiled faintly. “My cover was to be your boyfriend so I would have an excuse to be alone with you.”

“Convenient. Once a week, huh? You spent the night?”

He nodded, then scrubbed a hand over his face and downed the whole of the tea. “You were there for months. Your reports were thin. You had to work your way up through the diplomatic ranks. The ambassador was—paranoid—and you had to be able to get close enough to him to make it look like natural causes. It must have been important because I was never told to hurry you along.”

Months of carefully concealed undercover work, no fighting—had she trained? Added to that, she’d been free of day-to-day life at the Red Room or the KGB. She’d probably had to live as her cover, and then James came to see her every week.

“Did they wipe you during that time?”

He nodded. “But they still sent me to you—and you pulled me back.” Setting his mug aside, he turned. Arm braced on the back of the sofa, he faced her. “You finished that mission in Late May, Early June of ‘71. You returned and we trained for the next two months. If they sent you on missions, they didn’t tell me.”

“And apparently I didn’t either—did I keep things from you then?”

“Yes.”

So, she really had never been willing to share all of her secrets.

“Probably because there was no guarantee I wouldn’t be ordered to betray you.”

“You wouldn’t have,” she said with absolute certainty.

“Natalia, I did,” he exhaled the words and glanced down at his hands. “I did when I retrieved you from the Amalfi Coast.”

“That wasn’t you,” she reminded him.

“It—”

“No, James. That was you after they stripped your mind and tortured you for weeks, months—and I was not there to bring you back. Just like ’84.” Only that time, their separation had been permanent. “No, I compartmentalize…it’s how I keep my secrets. What happened on missions wasn’t me.” She couldn’t allow it to be her. That was the Widow and that armor had protected her for decades.

“When you came to me and said we had to go—we had a mission we were prepping for.”

“Did I ever tell you how I figured it out?” That part worried at her like a bad rash she couldn’t quite cure.

“No,” he said and his expression crumpled. “You just told me you were and I had no reason to disbelieve or to ask you how you found out. Probably because I was more Soldier then than James or Bucky for that matter. You were the priority. I understand—intellectually—what would happen if they found out.” Stroking a finger down her cheek, he said, “You were right about us going. You were right to worry. The only thing I never wondered then but I do now—is why did you risk telling me?”

“You know the answer.” So did she even without her memories.

“I have no idea what I did to deserve your love or trust.”

“Yeah well, I could say the same thing,” she retorted, but caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. The rough skin and callouses all held tales. There were faint scars on his knuckles and along his palm. Some abraded, others were just crisscrossing white lines.

She slipped his file out from beneath hers and then flipped it open then turned it so he could read it, too.

_Winter Soldier scheduled for termination._

Those words leapt off the page.

Below was a list of infractions dating back decades—all of them related to her. Inability to maintain mental architecture. Programming glitches. Failure to perform in long-term ops.

The last line—replacement available.

“I know why I didn’t show you these.”

_Winter Soldier scheduled for termination._

Termination.

Pain flickered behind her right eye. James flipped the page. Mission reports including _exceeding primary objective_.

_Soldier executed ten men with prejudice. Bodies burned. Mission objectives accomplished._

_Soldier exceeded mission objectives, two men executed. Broke protocol in putting the safety of Black Widow ahead of primary objective._

_Soldier executed three candidates for Project Revival with extreme prejudice. Failure to perform mission objective. Revision unsuccessful. Two more candidates summarily removed. _

Three candidates for…

“They tried to make you screw other women?”

A single nod.

“You killed them?”

Another nod.

She scrubbed a hand over her face. The pain behind her eye increased.

_Winter Soldier grows increasingly agitated in the absence of the Black Widow. Imprinting too successful. Recommend permanent separation. _

Similar recommendations dated back several years. Revisions. Separations. Retasking.

Nothing worked.

The Winter Soldier performed best long-term in her company.

Apparently, they tried several things, including chemical castration—Natasha wanted to throw up. His serum defeated most of it.

“They used enhancers,” James said quietly and she glanced up from the papers. “I wasn’t attracted to any of their subjects. None of them were you—though they dyed the hair of the last three red.”

Cold pulsed through her and the pain behind her eye increased. They’d usurped so much from him, then they tried to do this?

“My failure to perform was deemed a byproduct of the chair. So they gave me enhancers, forcing an erection. It also increased my aggression…I killed the women they sent, their handlers, and about half the doctors and scientists in that ward.”

His hand trembled in hers and she shoved the files aside to straddle his lap and wrap her arms around him. He clasped her tightly.

“Those women didn’t do anything wrong, they were just following orders.” He swallowed, the sound a gasp against her and she ran her fingers through his hair. All he’d done was defend himself. Natasha stared at the far wall past him. When he shuddered, she just held him tighter. The pain came in little jagged waves, but she slowed her breathing and concentrated on right here and right now.

Something about all of that struck her wrong. There…. “Where was I?”

“Natalia…”

“No something about this tells me I was there… where was I, James?”

He leaned back and she eased her grip so she could meet his gaze. The troubled expression in his eyes begged her to let it go. Which meant… they’d used her to subdue him when they couldn’t. Never damage the asset irreparably if they could help it.

His phone rang and they stared at each other a beat longer before she twisted and retrieved it from the table. It was Steve.

Since he was calling James, she held up the phone and raised her eyebrows. He nodded.

“Hey,” she said as she put him on speakerphone.

“Hey,” Steve said, relief in his voice. “You’re okay?”

No, they weren’t but… “Yeah, we’re here. Is something wrong?”

“Friday said she sent Bucky a text about your pulse, but he didn’t respond.”

James’ eyes narrowed on her and she lifted her shoulders. “A little headache, not bad and already receding. I stopped focusing on the subject.” But it had been right there. She could burst it if she pushed.

“Bucky is there, right?”

“I’m here, Stevie,” he said quietly. “We were just having a moment. Natalia is fine.” But he raised his hand to her throat and she tilted her head so he could take her pulse. It was already back to normal; she had her breathing regulated, too.

Steve exhaled. The worry in his voice raked at her.

“Steve,” she said. “I’m really all right. We can fill you in when we’re back.”

“I’ll be here,” he said. “You two look after each other.”

“We are,” she promised and James let out an aggrieved sigh.

“Natalia is right, Stevie. We are.” _Don’t tell him. _ The demand in his eyes pleaded with her. Their gazes remained locked. So much of this he didn’t want Steve to know and she got it. Some of those ugly pieces had no place in the life they were building. She nodded. “But go ahead and ask her Punk, I know you just wanted to hear the sound of her voice.”

There was a faint chuckle. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t mind the excuse to call. Just glad you can get a signal up there.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Me too. You guys having fun?”

“I’m up about two thousand at poker, so I can’t complain.”

Poker? James mouthed the word and Natasha grinned. “Since when did you get good at cards, Steve? You have a terrible poker face.”

“It’s not so bad,” Natasha defended him as she slid her hand through James’ hair and he relaxed, inch by inch. “He used to be much worse.”

“Thank you very much, I will go back to my winnings now and you two can make fun of me on your own time.”

James chuckled. “Not making fun of you, Punk. I was just impressed.”

“Have you figured out Clint and Tony’s tells yet?” She was more curious than anything. A lighter topic, something that let her and James breathe.

“Tony’s got a habit of acting like every hand is a great hand, but he won’t look at his cards more than once—unless it’s a really good hand.”

“Very good, Captain.” That wasn’t his only tell, but it was a good one. The better tell was the stories Tony told. The more outlandish they were, the better his hand. He covered his physiological responses by exaggerating them. It was a powerful negotiation technique, too.

“Clint’s a lot harder, any insights?”

She mimed zipping her lips. James chuckled. “Natalia is not saying one way or the other, but he’s a sniper Steve. You can’t go by his breathing. You have to look for what he _doesn’t_ do.”

Raising her eyebrows, she bit back another smile and then leaned in to rest her forehead to his as James settled his hand at her nape.

“Makes sense. All right, Angel, promise me the headache is gone? You’re not just saying what we need to hear to make us feel better?”

“I promise,” she said. “It was there for a short bit but nothing now and no nosebleeds. Don’t worry, all right?”

“Nope, worrying is in my contract.”

She smiled. “We don’t have a contract.”

“Oh, but we do. We can discuss renegotiation later, but I may have to make it three since I have to remind you.”

Three swats. She snorted, but her smile grew.

“I can take care of it for you, Stevie.”

“I’m good, Buck. Thanks. I’ll deal it out when it’s time.”

James winked at her.

“Going now, we still on to see you two back tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” James said. “We’ll decide in the morning. If you guys get restless, you can go back and come get us later.”

“Right.” Steve wasn’t going anywhere.

“Just saying,” James drawled. “Bye Stevie.”

“Bye Buck, and Angel?”

“I love you, too,” she said quietly and there was a long exhale on the other end of the phone.

“I really like hearing that—but I was going to say don’t forget, Bucky can probably outrun the bear, too.”

Surprise geysered through her and she snorted and then laughed. The utterly undignified sound garnered her an amused smirk from James.

“My work here is done,” Steve said, sounding enormously pleased. “Love you, Angel.” Then he hung up as she snickered.

“Bears?” James asked.

“Well, one bear…” she admitted, but giggle-snorted again. “I haven’t thought about that in a long time…”

“I think we could both use the break,” he said shifting her to pull her closer. “Tell me?”

“It was less than four months after I met Steve—we had garbage duty…” So, she told him—every fun piece. It was the mission where she decided she liked Steve as a person. Maybe because for a few hours, he hadn’t been Captain America—he’d just been Steve.

Course when she told James that his cover had been as Sam—or Sammy as she’d teased him—his guffaw finally broke the last lines of tension. The bear at the end was icing on the cake—well that and the fact Steve brought her back waffles, a hot fudge sundae, _and_ fish and chips when he went to the diner.

Good times.

~~~

“I’m going to go out to smoke…” James said as he poured the hot water over the instant coffee. In the couple of hours since Steve’s call and after she’d told James about the bear, they’d just sat together and gone through the files. Every ugly word. The levity had been a buffer against the pain in those pages, but not for long.

“You don’t have to go outside—it’s freezing out there.”

He smiled. “I know. But there’s no wind and there’s still some daylight. I want—clear my head.”

She understood that. “Can I do anything?”

After setting the kettle down, he closed the distance and cupped her face. “You already have. I don’t think I could have read that on my own.”

“Yes, you could have. We both could have. Not wanting to is far different.”

He tilted his head from side to side then nodded. “Fair enough. But now I need to kind of put it all back into perspective. I don’t always like the man I was.”

“I love the man you’ve always been and I love the man you are,” she reminded him gently. “Remember that?”

“I promise,” he said, then pressed his lips to hers. “You are all right for me to go out there, yes?” He searched his gaze. “You didn’t tell me about the headache earlier.”

“Does that make it four?”

But he didn’t return her smile.

She exhaled. “It was—brief and I had to stop focusing on what you didn’t want to tell me about what happened.”

“Still, you figured it out.” The depth of sorrow in his voice wrenched her.

“Maybe. Did you think I would be upset with you?”

“You have every right to hate me,” he said. “More than every right.”

“Well, too bad,” she said drily. “You’re kind of stuck with me.”

He chuckled, the sound almost a question and with just enough disbelief she had to reinforce the point.

“You’re the one who said I could get as mad as I liked as long as I was there where you could see me.” She took a step back and spread her arms. “See me?”

“Yes, Kotyonok, I see you.” Another kiss. “I’ll be right outside. Just yell if you need me.”

“I’m always going to need you,” she reminded him. “But go. Have your smoke. Sort out your thoughts. And tonight we can drive ourselves out of our own minds. Sound like a plan?”

He nodded slowly. “I like that plan.”

“Bundle up, hat and gloves. Maybe the full face knit cap, we can cut a hole for your eyes and mouth.”

“I’m not five,” he said with almost a teasing roll of his eyes.

“I know, when you were five you didn’t have me. Gloves and face mask or you smoke in here.”

With a teasing salute, he pulled out the ski mask and pulled it over his face. “Better?”

“For warmth? Yes. For me? No, but at least I can still see your eyes.”

Dressed, he grabbed his cigarettes and the huge cup of coffee he’d made and then he nodded to the fire. “Put more wood in after I’m out.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

A low groan. “_That_ is definitely worth two more.” Oh, she was up to five.

“Spasibo, zvezda moya.”

He shook his head and then he was outside and she let go of her smile. She took the time to add the wood to the fireplace, then she claimed her coffee cup and moved back over to sit on the sofa. The files sat side by side on the table in front of her. James had no idea where or when she’d gotten them. Some of the details included in them had startled and embarrassed him. The fact they’d tried to force him to fuck other women was right at the top of that list.

Project Revival.

They were losing their war with time to recreate the serum. They had two people with it, but the fact no one shared information meant that they’d never really had a chance to recreate Erskine’s work. Not the same way. Not even Zola—but Zola had been working for the Americans, gradually and systematically infecting SHIELD as it formed.

That he hadn’t been sharing data with the U.S.S.R. made sense. Hydra had to have been growing there, but they didn’t have power.

Karpov, Ivan, Madame B—they hadn’t been Hydra.

That part never made sense. Maybe she’d never know who all had been. The Winter Soldier remained in the U.S.S.R. until the government collapsed at the end of 1991 and the KGB dissolved. Hydra had power _then _enough to send him after the Starks. But there had been divisions, because she couldn’t imagine Pierce would have ignored the Winter Soldiers in Siberia created with Howard Stark’s formula.

But after the dissolution, Hydra or their operatives acquired James and took him to the States. She’d been in East Berlin on November 9, 1989, when the wall came down. The GDR announced that all citizens would be free to pass beginning at midnight. There were members of the Red Room in East Berlin. In the chaos of the partying, the Widow had celebrated by assassinating them.

They got to live long enough to see the beginning of their great work ending. Then she ended them. After, she’d joined the dancing in the streets. Somewhere in her Berlin apartment was a piece of that wall.

With a glance at the door, she retrieved her phone and pulled her file over and flipped through it to the medical procedures. Peter had sent her a message—just a check-in. He and May were celebrating a late Christmas together and there was a photo of him and his aunt both crossing their eyes and sticking out their tongues.

She chuckled. The message had come in hours earlier, so she typed in a quick response.

_Still away, but so glad May is home. Have a wonderful time. Will message when back._

**Peter:** _Cool! May said you still need to have coffee with her._

Natasha smiled and then typed, _I know._

The message like Steve’s phone call was a reminder that they weren’t in the past anymore, no matter how fresh and brutal it felt. She glanced toward the closed door like she could see James beyond the wood. He hadn’t wanted her to remember what they’d done to him. Or what she’d likely had to do to help calm him down after they pumped him full of drugs.

Then she flipped to her camera app and began to snap images of the medical parts of the file. Anything that had to do with tests or procedures. It was all written in Russian and some of it was in medical shorthand. But if she burned the rest of this, she wanted the medical records on the off chance they needed them.

She skimmed each page as she snapped the images. Stopping when the medical and _revision _data returned to her mission reports. They were summaries, top sheets. The full files were probably somewhere in Moscow or destroyed.

Personally, she hoped for destroyed.

The names—so many names of people she’d scratched off. Men. Women. Some children.

Her gut clenched. But she committed every single name to memory—faulty as hers might be. Some of them might have deserved their fates, most probably didn’t. Finally, she closed it again and tossed it on the table. Everything in the file pre-dated their escape. There were no answers about Mary other than ample evidence for why they’d had to flee with her.

How or why had she taken those files though? The amount of Eyes Only material would suggest it was a master…

A master file.

Those were kept in Lubyanka. Near Karpov’s private office.

She could guess, but that’s all they were.

Guesses.

Frustrated, she downed the coffee and reached for the bottle of vodka. They’d nearly finished the first one. So she emptied the last bits into her cup, then opened another. Cup full, she drank down about half of it. All she’d wanted was to find a few answers about Mary. The cabin was amazing and being here was painful and not in the same breath.

Those files should never have been in this house.

But what the hell had she known about homes or what they’d tried to create? She’d never shown them to James and she’d buried them beneath the bed she’d shared with him. Shared with their daughter. Had she packed them away and tried to pretend they never existed?

Scrubbing her hands against her face, she rocked a little. Who the hell had Natalia Romanova been? Or had she simply compartmentalized these…

“I killed him.” The answer struck at once and she didn’t know if it was memory or just the reality of it. Flipping the file open, she read the notes again.

The doctor.

The one who wanted to put her on ice. His recommendations for harvesting eggs. The idea she could heal and be their broodmare if not their Soldier after they executed James…

She took that file because she’d killed them. They’d all been a threat to James. If they couldn’t co-opt her fully, they had to keep him alive. She had to have killed him, whether it looked like an accident or not and she’d have destroyed any files she could get her hands on—these had to have been Karpov’s copies.

Then—then they left. Disappeared. Changed the whole game.

“Fuck them,” she said, checking her phone before setting it on the table and getting up to pace. She could do nothing about that part of their past. Not anymore. Only reopen wounds for James. She glanced at the closed door. Another fifteen minutes, then she’d go out and get him.

Pacing the living area, she studied the room and tried to picture it as James had described it. The fireplace drew her gaze time and again, but then it was the fireplace she’d always wanted. But Mary had been born here. She’d said her first word here. She’d crawled here.

All of that was gone.

Well not all… She walked into the bedroom, the floor next to the bed where she’d leaned against the side of it and pushed. That was where Mary had been born.

The door opened letting in a waft of cold, mountain air then closed again. Pulling her gaze away from the floor, she turned to meet James’ gaze as he stripped off the ski mask. A dusting of snow covered his jacket and his frown deepened. “Natalia, what are you doing?”

“Just—wishing I could remember more and beginning to think that maybe little pieces are all I’m ever going to get.”

With a sigh, he set his cup down and began to strip off his jacket. Arms still folded, she moved to lean against the archway separating the bedroom and living room.

“You know what’s weird?”

“A lot of things,” he admitted, but hung his jacket on a hook before he pulled off his boots and left them by the door.

“There are no doors in here.”

Eyebrows raised, he faced her.

“We never closed each other out?” Even now, she still had her own room. For that matter, she had her own floor. If she wanted to get picky about it, she had safe houses all over the world and Tony had given her an open key to any of his properties. She had a lot of doors to close.

Head tilted slightly, he narrowed the distance between them. “I can’t say for certain—but we could be quiet together. Sometimes, when the weather permitted, you would go for walks if you needed time.”

“How often were you up in a perch keeping an eye on me?” She really didn’t need to ask the question, because the answer was in his eyes.

“You knew,” he said softly. “Sometimes you even handed me the rifle before you went out to walk if you needed the time. After Mary though—we went together. I meant it when I said that fight before our second Christmas was the first real fight we’d ever had.”

“You know, I can see it and imagine it, but I look at me now and I can’t believe it didn’t make me a little crazy.” But before he could take that the wrong way she added, “But you went out there to smoke and I was watching the time, because I kind of missed having you in here.”

The corners of his mouth tilted. “So maybe the lack of doors isn’t so bad?”

“I don’t know if I can do no doors all the time. There’s security behind a door.”

“Agreed,” he held out a hand and waited for her to take it before he tugged her to him. Coffee, snow, and tobacco made for an odd combination, but she wasn’t opposed to it. “I’m all for having them between us the world—but not between us.”

“Noted,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’ll try not to close them.”

“You can close them,” he murmured. “Just don’t lock me out.”

She opened her mouth, then reconsidered for a beat before she said, “I can do that.”

The kiss was sweet, gentle and almost too cold. She wrapped herself around him. “You’re cold.”

“No,” he promised, his voice at her ear. “I am definitely not cold when I have you.”

She laughed, then pulled away to tug him toward the fire. “More coffee?”

“I’d like your hot cocoa, but I’m guessing that’s not an option here.”

“Well, we’re low on milk, but we have chocolate. Chocolate and coffee?”

“Good compromise.” He stoked the fire and then fed in another log while she filled the kettle with more water and got it heating. He lifted the bottle of vodka and eyed her a moment.

She shrugged. “I’m frustrated.”

Which defined their mood, swinging wildly between sorrow, laughter, loving affection, and frustration. Those were just in the last hour.

“Kotyonok. We’re going to Wakanda soon—you wanted to go after the New Year, yes?”

“We haven’t really talked to Clint or anyone else about that and I still need to check with Stephen and Shuri. There are a lot of people and parts coming together on this and I can’t expect everyone to put their lives on hold for me.”

“We should take Laura and the kids with us to Wakanda if T’Challa doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t want them—”

He pressed his fingers to her lips. “They don’t have to know. We can tell them we’re going to do drills, but we’re taking them with so Clint can spend time with them and you can see Strange and Shuri about recovering your memories. That gives Clint more time with his kids and you don’t have to wait.”

Surprise flared in her and her eyes narrowed. How did he…?

“No, you are far from transparent, but I know Natalia very well and I am learning who Natasha is. I told you, the two of you are not so different. You are trying to balance what everyone else needs against what you want, but more what you need.” The fierceness in his eyes kept riveted in place. “You pushed yourself past all your boundaries because the kids needed you. You did it for Lila, for Peter, and to a point for Wanda. You found out what Laura had been doing and instead of taking care of yourself, you recruited Tony and went to work creating protection for her.”

Sliding his hands along her biceps, he gave her arms a gentle squeeze. “And just now, when I wrestled with my own conscience, having to look my crimes in the face, you were trying to find answers, including risking a seizure to know how you helped me.”

There was an element of reproach in the last.

“Natalia, you have to know. I can accept that I might never learn what happened to Mary Elizabeth—if the choice is your health and safety? Then I will grieve for Mary Elizabeth, but I would let her go.”

The whole idea made her gut clench.

“But you can’t,” he said and blew out a breath. “So, we’ll talk to Clint. See what he thinks. Whatever decision he makes, we’ll let him make it. Do you want to go to Wakanda and figure this out? To see if they can stimulate those damaged regions so you can finally heal and be whole?”

So she could know the truth? “Yes.”

“Then that’s what we do. I’m with you, so is Steve, and Tony will be there. Peter wants to be there for you. Clint’s decision is made. You focus on _you_. We answer this question once and for all.”

“Just like that?”

He nodded. “Exactly like that.”

“I’d argue, but it’s what I really want to do, I just don’t…”

“I know, you don’t want to take Clint away from his kids. You want to make sure you fix Peter’s Vulture problem. You want to fix the Accords. You’re trying to take care of everyone else. Let us take care of you…” He raised his eyebrows, then slid his hand down to tangle with her fingers, stroking the ring there. “Please?”

“Yes. I really want to remember.” It was a constant empty ache.

“Then we will. But now…” He glanced at the files. “I’m packing those away…”

“Don’t,” she said. “I want to burn them.”

He frowned and studied her. “Are you sure?”

“Do you want your file? Having read what was in it?”

One sharp headshake no.

“There are all those files I took from Azzano. If this doesn’t work with remembering, we can read through those and then burn them, too. But I don’t want anyone else to see those files—those mission reports.” She stared at her title on the outside of the folder. “I don’t want them to know. I took photos of the medical pieces that Stephen might need. But the rest…”

They locked gazes for a wordless heartbeat and he nodded. “Get the chocolate?”

She gave him a curious look and he gave her a little nudge.

“Trust me. Get the chocolate.”

While she dug it out of their bags, he made the coffee and added vodka to both. He set the drinks up and then maneuvered the sofa and pulled the air mattress over and turned on the electric blankets so it was ready to go. He picked up the files and handed them to her.

“Would you like the honors?”

Honor?

No, this wasn’t an honor. This was removing a claim that should never have been put on them in the first place.

Their past existed. It brought them to each other. She’d been born the product of some genetic experiment and then subjected to nothing but decades more—crafted into a monster. The file held a lot of those bloody details, an inarguable truth about what she was supposed to have become. Their dragons lurking to consume them.

And they’d failed.

The files were heavy, but she handed him his back.

“Together?”

He smiled and they moved to the fireplace and she pushed hers in and his followed, one atop the other as the hungry flames began to lick across the brown folders and their bloodstained contents, blackening the pages and turning them to ash. Retreating to the sofa, he pulled her down into his lap and they sat vigil as the files were consumed, toasting with coffee and vodka and dining on chocolate.

They didn’t need words for this part. But she didn’t take her gaze off the flames until every bit of paper had crackled, to ash and began to drift away up the chimney.

Ash for the mountains.

When she couldn’t see any more of it, she let out a long sigh. It was strange, like this weird weight she hadn’t even recognized was gone. The Red Room would never go fully away and yet…

“Feel better?” he asked quietly and she twisted so she could lean sideways against his chest, the sturdiness of his left arm cradling her.

“I do. I know it’s just symbolic but…”

“It’s gone. We know and that’s enough. It’s done.”

They could slay dragons and letting them die in fire was appropriate.


	50. Board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony recounts a story for Steve and Clint as the three wait

**Chapter Fifty**

_Board_

**Tony**

_Late October 2012_

“No,” Tony said, pointing at Dum-E. “That one goes there, this one goes here. Get with the program before I put you on toaster duty.” He clapped his hands and the armor trembling in Dum-E’s claw flew—right across the room and slammed into the wall next to Natasha’s head.

“Holy shit,” he swore as his gaze collided with hers. “J!”

“Ah, yes, Agent Romanoff to see you, sir.”

Natasha glanced from him to the pauldron now sticking out of the wall and then back again. His pulse skyrocketed and he put a hand over the ARC reactor. The gloves were a bust.

“You couldn’t have told me that five minutes ago?” He glared in the direction of one of JARVIS’ multitude of cameras?

“I believe you said… _not now, J_, when I attempted to inform you.” The dry, brisk humor was a light, but effective slap. J had, in fact, tried to interrupt him when he’d been calculating the last code update.

“Then maybe you should have told her that.” Fuck.

“Breathe, Stark,” Natasha told him as she let the door close behind her.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, even if his heart was on a full-tilt race to the finish line. “I would prefer to not have maimed you even by accident.”

“You didn’t maim me,” she said, continuing her slow saunter over to one of his worktables. The sheer volume of scrapped test pieces littered it. He and J needed to melt those down. She gave a couple of pieces a shove, and then hauled herself up to sit.

Dropping his chin, Tony groaned and raked a hand through his greasy hair. A faint sour odor tickled his nostrils and he walked over to yank the pauldron out of the wall. It took a little effort.

“You should give a guy a little warning, Red. Kind of busy at the moment.”

“So I can see,” she murmured. He turned to find her picking up one of the discards for the latest StarkPad launch. They’d just released it, but there was more it could do. Didn’t have time to focus on that. “I like the new casing on these. Shatterproof is good.”

“Not totally. Back a car over one, it shatters.” It annoyed him.

“Well, I’ll have to give that a shot,” she said, setting it down. “I mean if it doesn’t survive a car rolling over it, what is the point?”

“Exactly.” He peered at her as he tossed the pauldron onto the stack with the other failures. “What do you want?”

“Do I have to want something?” She tilted her head, studying him. The fact she seemed to look right through him without betraying a single thought was especially irritating.

“Everybody does,” he commented, twisting in a little circle. Somewhere around here… Dum-E extended his claw and pointed at the coffee cup that had somehow ended up under a sheaf of papers. He picked up the plastic-sheathed investor’s report and grimaced. It landed in the trash, then he took a swallow of the bitter—and very cold—coffee.

Blegh.

He was halfway to the coffee maker when Natasha snaked the cup out of his hand, then linked her arm through his. He jerked at the sudden contact. When the fuck had she moved off the table?

“Hey,” he complained. “Don’t touch my stuff.”

“You don’t like that,” she said, her tone almost soothing.

“No,” he said. “I don’t.” That sour odor tickled his nostrils again and he grimaced as she pushed open the door to his lab. “Wait, where are we going? I’ve got work that I’m doing…”

“Hmm-hmm… I know. Very busy.”

“Good, so I’ll just be…” He couldn’t disengage his arm as she guided him up the stairs. The light at the top made him squint. “Jesus, J, turn down the brightness.”

“I’m sorry, sir, dimming the sun would have a catastrophic effect.” J was such a smart-ass, but at least he shaded the windows some not that it helped Tony’s watering eyes. He staggered a little as Natasha continued through the living room to the second set of stairs. Natasha didn’t slow as they reached the door to his bedroom and JARVIS opened it for them.

“You know, J, I’m starting to think you’ve been taken in by Red’s spy whammy.”

“Well, she is a very rational thinker and I do enjoy engaging in a battle of wits with an armed person from time to time.”

“Wounded,” Tony bellowed. “You wound me.”

“I do believe you will survive, sir.”

They were at his bathroom, when Natasha turned and gripped the edges of his shirt.

“What are you doing, Red?” At least he wasn’t blinded up here, but Natasha just stripped his shirt upward and that horrific smell made him gag. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“The thought has crossed my mind,” she told him easily as she held his shirt away from them by two fingers then reached for his belt.

“Hey,” he said, his grin growing. “If you wanted a ride on the Stark express, you should have said so…” He leered playfully, but her droll look sobered him. “Or not.”

A minute later she had his pants down and his eyes watered for an entirely different reason.

“What is that stench?”

“Smells like a corpse,” Natasha told him. “Very unattractive.” Wait what happened to his shoes?

She was crouched in front of him as he braced a hand on the wall to pull his feet out of his jeans. And far too dressed for his tastes. If he was getting naked… “Shouldn’t you be taking something off, too?”

“I’m working on it,” she told him helpfully, then turned him and gave him a nudge into the bathroom.

“You forgot my underwear,” he teased, but entered the bathroom. Course his genitals were feeling a bit breezy.

“No, that would be you,” she said giving him a gentle shove into the shower.

The tile around him was cool and she’d forgotten to turn on the water. “We taking a shower? You are way too dressed for that.”

“So it would seem,” she said with a smile, then closed the door. “JARVIS, water on full 21 degrees centigrade for the first thirty seconds, then let’s raise it to 40 degrees.”

Wait... the shock of ice water hitting his system made him yowl. It slammed the cobwebs out of his brain, shrank what might have been the beginning of a thoughtful erection and had his balls huddling tight to his body. By the time the water began to heat, he glared at the redhead currently straightening up the bathroom counter and laying out his hair product, razor, foam gel and deodorant. The terrible stench began to diminish.

“Rude,” he said when his teeth finally stopped chattering and the hot water loosened muscles in his back.

“Hmm—so is walking around smelling like a week-old corpse, but you didn’t hear me complaining. Wash your hair.” She sauntered out of the bathroom.

“J,” Tony said as he squirted some shampoo into his hand. “Restrict Red’s access. You know what. Just remove it entirely.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Ban her—not my house, the offices, nothing—lose her phone number.” He scrubbed his hair.

“As you wish.”

What should have taken him five minutes turned into fifteen as he showered and scrubbed. His hands were particularly gruesome looking, sooty dark and raw in places. Maybe those were burns? He wasn’t sure. When he finished, he felt a little more human. Towel around his hips, he rubbed a second against his hair and stared at himself in the mirror. His goatee was a little shaggy and more, it had become almost a beard.

He spent a few minutes shaving, then combing his hair and adding a bit of product so it wouldn’t look quite so unkempt. At least his eyes weren’t so red-rimmed and that terrifically bad smell was gone. Evil spies and their wicked ways. Stink bombing him out of his lab. Talk about underhanded tricks.

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth.” The low rasp of her voice had him jerking his hand away from the door he’d just been about to open.

“I know how to groom myself,” he said. “Why are you still in my bedroom? J, didn’t we take away her access?”

He dumped some toothpaste on the brush and began to scrub. The mint actually kind of burned, but oh—that was much nicer. The scummy taste of crap in his mouth also went away.

“You did indeed take away all access for Agent Romanoff.”

“So, why is she still here?” he asked around a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Because she has not left yet, sir. Would you like me to attempt to remove her?” His tone said he thought Tony was blatantly an idiot to even consider it. On the other hand… it could be entertaining.

Tony debated the idea.

“Sir?” J prodded him when he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, Tony rinsed his mouth as he finished brushing his teeth. Already, he felt a little more coherent and sharp.

“I’m thinking about it, J, get the stick out of your butt.” Done, he opened the bathroom door to find Natasha seated in one of a pair of white chairs near the windows, one leg crossed over the other. A suit hung on the front of his closet, while underwear, socks and a tie waited, laid out on the bed.

“You’re still here,” he said.

“You’re very observant. Putting the job description to work today, I see.”

“Iron Man doesn’t have a job description.”

“Genius,” she held up one finger, not seeming to look up from her phone as she continued, “Billionaire, Playboy, and Philanthropist. Kudos to getting that first one working for you.”

Hands on his hips, he glared. “You’re mocking me. I can tell. That definitely feels like mocking.”

“Are you not those things?” She dared him, lifting her gaze to meet his.

He scowled, nothing in her eyes or her expression gave her away. The naked challenge though, that stiffened his spine. “Of course, I am. That doesn’t answer my question about why _you’re_ still here.”

“Or why you’re still standing there in a towel—by the way, I should mention that arm workout is doing good things for you.”

His chest puffed a little. “Nice of you to notice.” He studied the suit. “Gray pinstripe?”

“Looks nice, classy and really pops with the red shirt and pocket square.” She’d resumed her attention to her phone.

Unable to argue the point, he dropped the towel and dressed. He’d half expected a white silk shirt, but she’d gone with one that Pepper called eggshell. It was still white, but it worked with the gray better.

Whatever, he preferred the red with the gray, but she’d chosen a tie with red stripes. Shirt tucked in and tie around his neck, he turned to find Natasha standing in front of him and damn near jumped out of his skin.

The faint curve of her very red lips mocked and tantalized him in equal measure.

“You need a bell,” he informed her. “J, from now on, you alert me when Red’s in the room.”

“Of course, sir.” There was a beat of silence as Natasha tied his tie and he tried to figure out what she was thinking. Most people were easy, but damn if he could figure it out.

Head tilted, she gave him the once over and then held up his suit coat to slip on and then she tucked the pocket square into place. With a nod, she said, “You’ll do.”

“I look good,” he said with a smirk.

“Well a ten-thousand-dollar suit would make a monkey look good,” she told him and dusted off his shoulders. “You need shoes.”

He glanced down at his socked feet and rolled his eyes. In his closet he reached for a pair of sneakers.

“No,” Natasha said and he jumped and then glared at the open door. No way she could see him. He reached for the sneakers again. “I said, no. Loafers.”

“Since when are you the boss of me?” He demanded and grabbed the sneakers in a fit of pique.

“Sir…” JARVIS began.

“Not now, J.”

“I asked you a question, Red.” He turned and she was right there—again. “J!”

“I tried to tell you, sir, but you said not now.”

“Since when do you listen to me?”

Natasha plucked the sneakers out of his hand and put them back, then held out a pair of loafers.

He folded his arms, refusing to take them.

“Would you like me to put them on for you?” There was just the barest hint of a threat in those quiet words.

The fact she probably would silenced his tongue as he narrowed his eyes. “No,” he muttered and took them from her hands. Shoes on, he spread his arms. “Better?”

“Much. You look good. Come along.” The compliment helped, but she was already striding away from him the soft click of her heels beckoning him to follow. It was also his first good look at her—she was dressed in black flowy pants and the crisp white blouse. It reminded him of the first day Natalie Rushman walked into the gym downstairs.

It was a damn good look on her. Trailing behind her, he didn’t balk until they reached the garage and she inspected the keys in the case.

“Wait a minute… what are we doing?”

“Going to lunch,” she informed him.

“It’s…” he looked at his watch and then paused. It was eleven in the morning. Oh. “Fine. But I’m driving.” He reached past her and snagged Saleen 7’s keys. The aggressive, low-slung curves of the car fit his passenger to a T. Too bad it was orange instead of red.

She slid into the car and pulled her seatbelt on. It wasn’t until they were on the PCH, that he said, “Where are we going?”

“Stark Industries,” she said without looking up from her phone—again. What was so damn interesting on that thing?

“_Why?_”

“Board meeting starts in thirty minutes and they have a wonderful buffet.”

He made a face. “I never go to these things.”

“So, it’ll be new and different. Then we can do whatever you want to, after.”

From behind his sunglasses, he eyed her and then the road again. There was a catch here. “Anything I want to do?”

“Anything you want,” she promised. That was a pretty broad spectrum she’d just opened up. Applying a little more force to the accelerator he debated the loopholes. “How long do I have to stay at this board meeting?”

“Until I’ve finished my lunch would be nice. The crab cakes are excellent.”

Crab cakes. Right.

“When have you had lunch at a board meeting before… wait, scratch that. When you worked with Pepper,” he said, irritation ratcheting higher. “Pepper called you.”

“Nope, just saw it on the schedule and I was in town and I wanted to have lunch. You’re my ticket in the door.”

Ticket in the door.

He jerked the car off onto a little cutaway and slammed the brakes. Twisting in the seat, he pinned her with a look. “You pulling another undercover stint at SI?”

“No.”

“Are you telling me the truth?”

Not even a flicker of emotion when he challenged her. “Yes.”

“Why should I believe you?” Because mind-blowingly duplicitous was her modus operandi. Look at how she’d tricked him into taking her out to lunch. An hour ago he’d been hard at work getting his suit modified and now they were in his car on the PCH.

“Because I like crab cakes and you really don’t like your board, so even if I were undercover, it would likely have something to do with them…”

“Pepper reports to the board.”

“She’s also the Chairman of the Board.”

This was true.

“So there’s a chance this could be entertaining.”

“From a certain point of view…” she commented. “If I were there undercover, though, arriving with you is not low-key nor sneaky.”

True.

“Red?”

“I promise, Tony. You won’t be disappointed.” She didn’t look away once and while he still couldn’t get a bead on her, he didn’t disbelieve her either.

“Okay, but if it’s not fun,” he said. “You’re going to owe me more than one. _And_ we still get to do whatever I want after.”

“Agreed.”

He nodded then scratched at his jaw. He still really didn’t know any more now than when he stopped the car. Getting back out on the road, he flipped the idea around in his head.

It wasn’t until they reached the elevator that he ran into any trouble. The doors didn’t open. “J?”

“I’m sorry, sir. You have removed Agent Romanoff’s access to everywhere, that would include Stark Industries.” The dry sarcasm in his voice absolutely robbed the apology of any kind of sincerity.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. Natasha’s laugh, however, was almost worth the aggravation.

“Did you think I was serious, J?”

“Usually no, sir, but there’s always a first time.”

“J?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Give her access back.”

“Right away, sir.”

Natasha was still chuckling as they stepped into the elevator. “Thank you, JARVIS.”

“My pleasure, Agent Romanoff.”

Of course it was. Hands in his pockets, Tony rocked back and forth as they climbed to the executive floors. The doors opened and Pepper stood next to the open door of the conference room, an open packet in her arms and her assistant talking to her. Dressed in pale blue, she looked stunning. The startled surprise in her eyes, however, was far less flattering.

“You got him here,” she said slowly.

“Actually, he just gave me a lift,” Natasha said smoothly. “We’re on time, right?”

“Exactly on time,” Pepper commented.

“Aww, honey, you’re going to hurt my feelings,” he said as he paused to give her a kiss and her assistant made herself scarce.

“You’ll survive,” Pepper told him, as she gave him the once over. “I’m so glad you could make it. I was worried you forgot.”

“Of course, I did. We’re just here for lunch.”

“Lunch?” Pepper said, eyebrows raised.

Tony glanced at Natasha and then back at Pepper. “The crab cakes and the buffet?”

“Lunch is for after the meeting…”

He pinned Natasha with a look. “Spy whammy, Red. Very rude.”

Absolutely unperturbed, she patted his shoulder as she wandered into the boardroom. “I never said it was at the same time,” she reminded him. “You promised to stay until after I finished lunch.”

Which couldn’t be until _after_ the board meeting. Rolling his eyes, he pasted on a smile for Pepper because she seemed absolutely delighted to see him and he could get his revenge on Natasha afterward.

So, maybe there was some winning in the situation for him—a fact he clung to when he followed Pepper into the already packed boardroom. The silver-haired jury all turned their baleful looks in his direction and almost at once there was a faint transformation as they looked for polite smiles and rose. They ignored Pepper in favor of shaking his hand—two actions that irked him equally.

As he made his way around the room, he found Natasha had made herself comfortable on a credenza instead of at the table. She sat, one leg crossed over the other, one sexy heel bouncing as she scrolled through something on her phone. He paused next to her and caught sight of Candy Crush and smirked. “There are chairs,” he suggested.

She made a show of looking at the table and then went back to her game. “Yes, there are.”

“Thank you all for coming, I know it was short notice.” Pepper took control of the room. The murmuring silenced as she took her place at the head of the table. At least the schmucks shut up and waited until she motioned to them before they resumed their chairs. Tony debated joining the table or leaning here against the wall. It put him at Pepper’s back and he could see the faces of everyone present. Their gazes kept flicking to him then back to Pepper repeatedly.

Wait… short notice?

He snuck a look at Natasha who cleared her level with a faint smile and moved on to the next. Happy entered the room carrying a stack of folders.

“Thank you, Happy, if you’ll pass those out.” Pepper had not taken her seat. Instead, she maintained her stance. “Most of you here have been on the board of Stark Industries for more than a decade at least, some of you date back two decades.”

Some of these fossils had been there when his dad ran the company. There wasn’t a stinking one of them who’d stood up to Obadiah in his little reign of tyranny. In fact, every single one of _those_ assholes had voted to remove Tony. Sure, they’d corrected their mistake in hindsight, but Tony hadn’t forgotten. It was just another reason he didn’t want to deal with them. There were three board members in the lot that weren’t so bad. They’d replaced Obadiah’s closest friends and the ones who’d actually been indicted for their crimes in selling arms.

But with twelve members, three wasn’t a huge number. He and J needed to move getting rid of these schmucks back up the list.

“You couldn’t send us the preparation material before the meeting?” Howland—Roger Howland whose loudmouth decried the actual intelligence he possessed which also made him dangerous—demanded. “As a former personal assistant, one would think you would have the grace to give us time to more fully review and digest the material before presenting it.”

Irritation flared through him as another board member—this time Carlton Michaels—joined in the complaining. “Ms. Potts, it is unusual enough to call a board meeting mid-quarter, but to then come to us so woefully unprepared does not bode well for your future with the company.”

Mouth open, Tony started forward but Natasha closed her hand on his and he couldn’t break the grip. Happy came over to him and held out a folder. When Tony gave him a baleful look, Happy tucked the folder under his arm. Natasha still had an iron grip on Tony’s hand. If he tried to move forward, she’d probably break his wrist. All the while, she kept playing her game.

“As a matter of fact, Mr. Howland, not presenting this information before it had been fully vetted and confirmed with legal allowed is the requirement under the contracts each of you signed with regard to ethics and conduct.”

The hum of disapproval cut off all at once.

More than one member flipped open their folders and Tony frowned. He glanced over at Happy and tugged the folder from beneath his arm. But he needed… Natasha still had his wrist. Leaning close, he put his lips next to her ear. “I need my hand back now, pretty please.”

A faint smirk touched her lips and she released him.

“Thank you.”

Then he shook out his hand before flipping open the folder and a little snort of laughter escaped him. Howland was the first report. He and Justin Hammer had been photographed together before and after Hammer went to prison, the report accompanying it detailed numerous meetings between Howland and Hammer board members.

Apparently, Howland had been filling his parachute with Hammer Tech—not that there was much of Hammer Tech left.

Carlton Michaels was on the next page. Tony delighted at the very compromising pictures of Michaels with Howland’s wife.

The two men in question were glaring venomously at Pepper, however, whose posture hadn’t shifted.

“I assure you, every single word, line item, and photograph have been thoroughly vetted. Gentlemen, when you agreed to serve on the board of Stark Industries you swore to a code of ethics in addition to signing _iron_clad non-compete clauses.”

“This is outrageous,” Howland stated as he stood. “I won’t stand here and be dictated to by a _secretary_. You could easily have manufactured all of this. Tony Stark could do this with his pinky. Why should we believe you?”

“Ms. Rushman?” Pepper said over her shoulder. “Would you care to enlighten Mr. Howland?”

“Four. Seven. Eight. One. Six. Nine. Three. Four. Six. Nine. One. Six. Six. Five,” Natasha said without glancing up from her phone. She had three more items to get to clear her level.

“What the hell does that mean?” Ericson asked. Tony had no problems with Ericson. The man had taken a seat on the board reluctantly in the fallout after Obadiah’s death. A stickler for the rules and for protocol, he could be a pain in the ass, but he was honest. That quality let Tony overlook the rest.

“JARVIS,” Pepper said quietly. “Could you bring up the interface for Banc Swisse.”

The screen illuminated with the login.

The numbers appeared in the account identifier.

“Ms. Rushman?” JARVIS asked with all primness.

Natasha gave him the eighteen-character password from memory, and Tony folded his arms, smirking. Because whatever this was going to be, it was going to be good.

“This is outrageous. That’s violating personal privacy…” Howland said as the screen populated with financial data.

“So is receiving hefty payments from our competitors at the same time as proprietary designs suddenly appear in their hands.” Pepper stated. “Now while I can’t prove you were the one who provided them…”

“Oh, you can,” Natasha supplied helpfully. “You can also provide evidence that he is in negotiation with at least three foreign governments, including North Korea, so that when he makes the leap he can balloon Hammer Tech stock while devaluing Stark Industries.”

“I can?” Pepper asked, all innocence, but the glint in her eyes wasn’t remotely innocent.

Delight flooded Tony.

“You most certainly can. Just like you can provide photographic and audio recorded data of Phillips and Jenkins making under the table deals with three warlords from Afghanistan to fulfill orders placed with Stane prior to his unfortunate accident.”

The two men in question rose abruptly and headed for the door. Because that made them look innocent. They didn’t reach it before two men in suits stepped inside.

“Oh, did I mention that you two are currently wanted for questioning by the FBI?” Natasha said all sweetness and light. “Sorry, that might be all you really needed for the violation of ethics which means immediate dismissal from the board.”

“That’s true. Thank you, Ms. Rushman.”

“Always happy to assist, Ms. Potts.”

Snorting, Tony didn’t even bother to hide his laughter as one by one, the five men were summarily ousted from the board and three of them were taken in for questioning, a fourth for assault—apparently Carlton hadn’t just been sleeping with Howland’s wife.

Once all the men had been escorted out, Pepper let out a sigh. “Now that we’ve taken care of that unpleasant business,” she said, finally taking her seat. “If you will turn to the mid-page of those file folders, you will see potential board members background checks and biographies. I’d like you to take the information and review it in full. I would suggest that you also review all the data on those who have so far been removed. Violations of our Code of Ethics and of the principals for which Stark Industries prides itself will not be tolerated. Your contracts state as much. Any questions?”

Not. One.

Except… “Is it my understanding with our board being compromised by loss of members the board is suspended until new members can be voted in?” Ericson asked, his expression serious.

“For a period no shorter than six weeks and not to exceed twelve,” Pepper explained. “At this point with the holidays just around the corner, we will be suspending all board activities and voting until the last week of January.”

The next ten minutes were formulaic, but the board was more than happy to rush out as soon as the meeting was over. As they made their exodus, Happy beamed and Tony applauded.

“You were right, Red, that was very entertaining. But I don’t see your buffet.”

“That’s because we’re eating in my office,” Pepper told him and Natasha slid off the credenza. “Thank you,” Pepper said, focusing on her.

“No problem. I love taking out the trash.”

Pepper grinned. “It is kind of fun, isn’t it?”

“I was sort of hoping one of them would get stupid ideas.”

Tony hadn’t been, but he could understand the desire. “Have you actually ordered food yet?”

“No,” Pepper said. “My assistant will…”

“Put her on hold. I’m taking you two ladies out to lunch. My treat.”

“Tony, I still have to work,” Pepper said.

“Nope, you don’t. You just did the work of ages right there and now you get rewarded. Red, too. Let’s go. Chop chop. I promised Red, crab cakes and I plan to deliver. Then you’re going to tell me when you two started plotting together and why I wasn’t invited.”

He was guiding them both out, though guiding Pepper more than Natasha. Pepper finally gave up on her protests at the elevator as Happy hit the button. Which was good, they’d need him. The Saleen wasn’t comfortable for three and he wanted to sit with both of them.

On the way down, Pepper told him that she’d come across something suspect in the quarterly reports at the same time Happy clocked another missing prototype.

“Not missing anymore,” Happy supplied. Then gave a nod to Natasha who leaned against the wall of the elevator like she wasn’t even involved in the conversation. Tony filed that away for later.

“I texted Natasha,” Pepper said as they reached the garage level where Happy had parked the limo. “I wasn’t expecting you to do quite so much.”

“I had a couple of down days and I was in the neighborhood.”

“I thought you were in Europe,” Pepper said, sounding a bit confused.

“Well, that’s in the neighborhood of Banc Swisse.”

“I suppose that’s true…” Pepper accepted the whackadoo logic that only Natasha could make sound reasonable. Once in the car, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“The Fish Shack, Happy.”

“That’s in Carmel.” His friend blinked.

“I know, we’ll take the jet.”

“Tony…” Pepper protested.

“No, no,” he said. “I’m taking you both out and I’m spoiling you. You deserve it.”

“You don’t even know if Natasha can go that far, she was only here for the morning. A stopover…”

“It’s fine,” he said, catching Natasha’s eye. “You said we could do whatever I wanted right?”

“I did,” she admitted.

“So, Carmel, Happy. There’s this wonderful place—best crab cakes in the state. Also, Pepper’s favorite oysters.”

“I don’t like oysters,” Pepper reminded him.

“True, but you like me after I’ve had them,” Tony chortled and wrapped an arm around each of them, even happier when Natasha didn’t break his arm for doing it. “Now, tell me _everything._”

Hours later, lunch and wine consumed and back in Malibu, Tony left Pepper sound asleep in bed and wandered back downstairs. It had been after ten when they got back and after insisting Natasha stay the night, he and Pepper had gone up to bed. Post-oyster performance proved, he was far more relaxed than he’d been at the start of the day but he still couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he was trapped in space, tumbling toward a portal that would never close and pursued by aliens who were coming to destroy them all.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he made his way down the steps to the living room. It was dark, with only low tracking lights on, but as he made his way to the kitchen he caught movement out by the pool. “Hey J?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Red not sleeping?”

“No, sir. Agent Romanoff stepped outside after you and Ms. Potts went up. She went for a walk on the beach and now I believe she’s out there drinking.”

Huh.

He grabbed a bottle of the single malt and a glass. “What’s she got?”

“Vodka, sir.”

The one bottle he’d had behind the bar was gone, but it hadn’t been that full. So he grabbed another from the walk-in and then carried all of that out. She sat on one of the lounge chairs, feet up and her game of Candy Crush up. Apparently, she was out of lives, but she hadn’t closed her phone.

“Here,” he said. “I’m much better company than the game.”

She glanced up at him as he held out the fresh, unopened bottle of vodka. “Thank you. Shouldn’t you be in bed letting Pepper reap the benefits of the pounds of oysters you ate?”

He smirked. “She has reaped the benefits fully and I wore her out thank you very much. Now scoot over.”

Natasha rolled her eyes but scooted over so he could sit next to her. He stretched out his legs and filled his glass with scotch as she refilled hers with vodka. They clinked glasses and then both of them looked out at the sky over the water. It was dark, a crescent moon visible, but not as much in the way of stars considering the light pollution from the city.

The breeze off the ocean was cool, but the weather was pleasant enough it didn’t leave him chilled. “So why are we sitting out here?”

“Well, I was drinking,” Natasha told him.

“What are you now?”

She lifted the glass and tossed back the contents. “Still drinking.”

He chuckled. “Don’t hold out on me, Red.”

A shrug. “Nothing to hold out.” She refilled her glass. “Just don’t feel much like sleeping.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Me neither.”

“So, I went for a walk and then I came back and now I’m drinking. What’s your excuse?”

“Should be working,” he said. But the rare kind of day off had been cool. “Had fun this morning. Thanks for making me go.”

“Didn’t make you do anything,” she said. “Just gave you a little push.”

“And got me naked.” He grinned.

“That part wasn’t really a challenge.”

“Nice,” he said, then took a drink. The burn of the scotch was smooth and perfect. It helped dull some of the jagged edges. “You know, you could return the favor some time.”

“Next time I need someone to remind me showering is not optional, you’ll be my first call.”

A laugh broke free and he nodded. “I’d appreciate that. You know the work on the Tower will be done by Christmas.”

“Giving up all of this for winter in New York?”

“Winter in New York has its charms.”

“Snow.”

“Tree in Rockefeller Center.”

“Snow.”

“Ice skating.”

“Snow.”

“Great shopping.”

“Did I mention snow?”

“Aren’t you Russian? What’s your issue with snow?”

She lifted the glass. “Do you know how many months a year it snows in Moscow?”

“A lot.”

“That would be my problem with snow.” She downed another drink. “You should get some rest. You’re not sleeping enough.”

“I’ll be fine. Got some work to do.” He should head on down to the workshop. “The new suit is going to be really useful. I can summon it anywhere…it will cross miles to get to me.”

“Too many miles and it might not get there in time.”

“I’m working out the kinks.”

“Would that be what it was doing slamming into the wall when I came in earlier?”

“Like I said, kinks.” He sighed. There was something off in the calculations between velocity and targeting. It could have the right target, but it didn’t corner worth a damn.

“There’s kinky and then there’s painful, Shellhead. You’re not that much of a masochist.”

“I could be, you don’t know,” he said with a snort and she grinned. “Want my safe word?”

“It’s a fruit.”

“It is not,” he said, not even trying to know how she knew that.

But she didn’t respond, she just refilled her glass. They floated between islands of silence and random commentary.

“Shooting star,” he said, pointing to it.

“Probably just more space trash falling.”

“Space trash?”

“Yep,” she told him. “Space litter sound better?”

He couldn’t really argue with that.

A few minutes later, she asked, “How’s your project going? Your metal army?”

“Asking for you or for Fury?”

“For me, mostly. Nick hasn’t asked me about it.” Which was her way of saying Eye-Patch didn’t know. Thank you, Natasha.

“Still working on that logic problem. J’s got the setup, but I need to get another satellite up there. Make sure we have full coverage so we’re never in a satellite blind spot. Feel like trouble-shooting the code when I’m done?”

“Sure.”

“Sign the NDA?”

“Nope.”

He chuckled. “Keep my secret?”

“To my grave.” That was a promise that gave him chills.

Gradually one hour bled into the next and he rose abruptly. “I’m bored. C’mon.”

“Why do I have to go if you’re bored?”

“Because I want your company, don’t be difficult.” His words slurred only a little, but when he held out his hand, she took it and he tugged her to her feet. She was still dressed in her business attire, though her feet were bare and she had really cute toes—if bruised as hell. What the heck had she been doing before she picked him up this—yesterday—morning. “You need to change. C’mon.”

“I’m fine…”

“No, you’re dressed for work.” He kept hold of the hand she’d given him and let her grab her vodka. He managed his bottle and class with the ease of long practice. Inside, he said, “Leave the stuff here.” He put down his bottle and glass on the coffee table. Ignoring her bland look, he caught her hand again and tugged her with him down the hall to the guest room.

Throwing open the closet, he gave her a once over and then pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants.

“Do I want to know who those belonged to?”

“They’re new,” he said, tossing them to her. “I do not keep the clothes of other women around.”

“Because Pepper got rid of them?”

He met her stare for stare. “It’s possible that I did it before she moved in full time.”

“Possible, but?”

“It’s also possible Pepper made it a condition of moving in. So—get changed.” He clicked his tongue. “I’m going to make popcorn. I don’t need to be harassed about the clothes of former lovers that they chose to just leave behind.”

She chuckled. “Probably because they stole something of yours instead.”

That… At the door, he paused and turned around as she shrugged out of her blouse. And yes, those were spectacular breasts in a very sensible bra, but he kept his head and gaze up because drooling would be rude. “You know, now that’s going to bug me.” Though there was the look of something not so pretty in three stripes across her side. Mostly closed, but still angry looking.

“What, that they stole your clothes?” She slipped the t-shirt on over her head and it clung in all the right places.

“That they touched my stuff.”

She had her hands on the buttons of her pants. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“You let them touch your dick, right? You weren’t just having sex from a few feet away.”

He glared at her. “I use condoms.”

“Yeah, okay. Not going to touch that.”

He smirked. “_Nice_, Red.” Then slanted his head as she let the pants fall and picked up the yoga ones. “Very nice. The bruises not so much. What the hell did you do? Try to thighmaster The Other Guy?”

Someone had done a hell of a number on her. She tugged up the yoga pants cutting off his view. “It’s nothing.” She scooped up her clothes and folded them before narrowing the distance. “Popcorn?”

It was a hell of a lot more than nothing, but she wasn’t talking.

Okay.

“Yeah, popcorn. Let’s go.”

She didn’t ask what they were going to do until they were settled back in the living room bowl of popcorn between them and their feet up on the coffee table. The bruises on her toes looked even more livid close up, but he made himself not stare.

In the mood for something light, he scrolled through the stuff J recorded for him until he spotted something familiar.

“_Murder, She Wrote_,” Natasha read out the name.

“Probably from before your time,” he said. “Came out in ’84, my mom loved this show. We used to watch it together when she was in town.”

Natasha raised her brows. “Your mom’s favorite show was about murder?”

“No comments from the assassin’s gallery. Now shhh… it’s starting.”

He felt her gaze on him and when he stole a peek, she smiled and then settled back. They drank, ate their popcorn, and watched. Sometime around the fourth episode, his eyes were getting heavy, but Natasha was still there. She was still there when Pepper woke them up with coffee and aspirin a few hours later.

~~~

Clint snorted. “She took out five members of your board?”

“Helped Pepper do it, really was just a thing of beauty,” Tony said and waited for the next card. They’d spent their morning on their own things, but restlessness had started to get to him so after he finished an update on the software for the new StarkPad, Tony suggested another round of poker. They’d managed that and lunch. At least they could store the leftovers and could heat stuff in the microwave.

It was funny, until he’d started telling the story, he’d half-forgotten that Natasha had to trick him out of the house to get him to the meeting. Neither woman needed him there; he’d literally just been a spectator. Natasha had been checking on him and hadn’t liked what she found. Beyond that, he got to enjoy Pepper putting five of those assholes in their place with backup from Natasha.

“I forget sometimes that they’re friends,” he said. “Which is just weird because they met when Red was spying on me.”

“Doing her job,” Clint corrected him and Tony shrugged.

“Same thing. But really glad Pepper thought to call her.” Happier he got to spend the rest of the day with them. Things had been better with Pepper for a while, not great, but better. He’d edited some parts of the story, like what they’d watched or how it had become a habit for them. Course a few weeks later, Killian blew up their lives so there was that.

“She does…” Steve paused as Friday chimed in and Natasha’s vitals took a leap in the corner of Tony’s glasses.

“Boss, Nat’s pulse has been elevated for the last three minutes in jagged spikes.”

“Text Bucky?” Steve asked as he sat forward, Clint was already standing up and heading toward the cockpit. Probably a good plan if there was an actual issue.

“I tried, he has not responded.”

“Give it a minute,” Tony suggested. “He might be trying to get her to calm down.” The one obvious danger of them going to the cabin had been the chance they could trigger an episode.

Clint went over pre-flight checks, then swiveled the seat to look at them.

“Calling them,” Steve said at the exact minute mark and no response from Bucky.

Tony toyed with a chip as the phone rang; in the silence of the quinjet even the quiet ring on the cell phone was audible without speakerphone.

“Hey…” Natasha’s voice had never sounded so good, quiet, a little raspy, but familiar and normal.

“Hey,” Steve said, the relief loud his voice. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, we’re here. Is something wrong?” Steve had put his phone on speaker.

“Friday said she sent Bucky a text about your pulse, but he didn’t respond.”

Tony waited the two seconds between Steve’s comment and her response. The pause was long enough to suggest something had been wrong. “A little headache, not bad and already receding. I stopped focusing on the subject.”

Steve frowned. “Bucky is there, right?”

“I’m here, Stevie,” he said quietly. “We were just having a moment. Natalia is fine.”

“Steve,” she said. “I’m really all right. We can fill you in when we’re back.”

“I’ll be here,” he said. “You two look after each other.” Then he took it off speaker and put the phone to his ear as he stood. He motioned to the back and Tony nodded. A minute later, Steve strode out into the cold with only a light jacket and the quinjet ramp closed behind him.

“Vitals still good?” Clint asked.

“Yes, Mr. Barton. They have resumed their normal pace. Respiration and pulse within acceptable ranges.”

“Well, that could have been worse,” he said as he stood and stretched.

“Yep.” Tony exhaled and leaned back in his seat. “I was wondering if we’d pushed our luck with it seeming to go this long without incident.” Though… he grimaced.

“You’re thinking it’s because she hasn’t remembered anything.”

Tony nodded once. “Which might be worse for her in some ways even if it’s better for her brain.” He still wasn’t fully sold on the process Strange and Shuri cooked up. Even if he could see _why_ it would work, he wasn’t a fan of torturing her.

“Yeah,” Clint said, glancing toward the closed ramp.

The other man had never been talkative when it came to Natasha, something she shared in common. They were both very circumspect and protective of each other.

“You don’t want her to do this, do you?”

Shifting his stance, Clint eyed him. “Not a fan, no. But then neither are you.”

“I’m a fan of her being happy, not doing this won’t make her happy.” Even if it might keep her safe. Safety in the absence of happiness wasn’t much.

“Not doing this might keep her in one piece,” Clint said then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, she needs to do this and she wants to do it. So—I have to have her back.”

“About sums it up,” Tony said. “I just wish there was a way to tilt the odds completely in our favor.” Too much of it was a gamble. They could make plans and contingencies. He was planning for everything that _could_ happen and there was bound to be something he didn’t think of.

At the same time, he could see her kicked back on that credenza, relaxed, playing Candy Crush while she cheerfully offered up the damning evidence to eliminate problematic board members. Hours later, they were drinking by the pool and then watching TV. Hours after that, she was gone and he didn’t see her again until after the arc reactor was out of his chest even if they talked on the phone.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind if he’d called and said _I need you_, she’d have shown up—bloody, battered, or still in battle gear. “She deserves every good thing we can make happen.”

“Yeah,” Clint said as the rear ramp opened and let Steve and the icy air in with him. Tony suppressed a shudder. The relief on Steve’s face was almost enough, though Tony wished he could have talked to her a little longer on the phone.

But the call had been for a purpose and the reasons they were up there hadn’t changed. Some things were still private. He checked her vitals and was happy they remained steady.

After pouring himself another cup of coffee, Steve studied them but didn’t return to the table.

“Cap?” Clint asked. “Everything’s good, right?”

“Yeah. But something in their voices was off.”

“Off like we need to go up there?” Tony asked. “Or off like they’re exhausted emotionally and mentally?”

“Not sure. But—it’s probably the latter.” Didn’t mean he wouldn’t still worry. He scratched at his jaw. Clint had a bit of scruff going on and so did Tony, though they had access to a shower, they hadn’t bothered with the shave. The shower wasn’t really designed for comfort so much as efficiency.

“Something on your mind?” Clint prodded when Steve continued to stand next to the coffee maker.

“Just—feels like the other shoe is about to drop. It’s making me a little crazy.”

“Okay,” Tony said slowly. “What would help that doesn’t involve pissing Red off by landing in front of their cabin?” Because they could totally do that and she would be totally within her rights to skewer them.

“The procedure Strange and Shuri recommended…”

Tony nodded once.

“Can you explain all of it to me? From the bottom, like I have no medical degree and no specialties in brain injuries?”

“You don’t have those things,” Tony pointed out helpfully, but nudged Steve’s chair out. “But you’ve been doing a lot of reading.”

“That’s dangerous,” Clint admitted. “Because most of what I read said this shouldn’t be possible.”

“To be fair,” Tony said, relaxing a fraction. Because he had expertise here and he’d done nothing but research. “Nothing about Red should be possible, which is in our favor.”

As Steve sat, Tony leaned forward. “I’m going to preface this whole conversation as hypothetically and within reason, every single sentence has that qualifier.”

“Tony?” Steve interrupted and Tony gave him a beat. “Can you include the backups you’ve come up with for when something goes wrong?”

“I can, but remember—you have to be Mr. Positivity. I’m the skeptic.”

“What does that make me?” Clint asked.

“Her family,” Tony told him bluntly.

“Cool.”

The cards lay forgotten on the table and Tony started at the bottom, walking them through the proposed procedures one step at a time, problems and all.

This?

This he could do.


	51. Cherish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To cherish is to protect and care for someone lovingly.

**Chapter Fifty-One**

_Cherish_

**Natasha**

She lost track of how long they just sat together, watching the fire burn. Only when it had begun to fall apart to glowing embers did James ease away from her. He fed fresh wood into the fire and then sent her to use the bucket before he did the same. After he dealt with it and returned inside, he began barricading the door and checking the shutters.

At some point earlier, he’d secured the ones outside and closed them. The cabin had warmed even further. They weren’t leaking as much heat, or maybe she’d adapted to the temperatures. Either way, she was comfortable enough to strip down without immediately hustling under the blanket. She poured warm water from the kettle into a bowl and used a washcloth to wipe herself down while kneeling in front of the fire.

Awareness of James watching her from the archway slipped over her even if she hadn’t heard him walking. The files had been a shift between them, a seismic event, and the aftershocks continued to tremble. The ugliness of those years as bad as they’d been hadn’t seemed so ugly at the time. They’d just been something to endure.

Yet now? Looking back from where they’d finally been able to claw a real life out for themselves? A real life so preciously new and fragile? It was a kind of filth that left a bad taste in the mouth.

“Stop,” James said softly. He’d come to kneel right behind her. But she didn’t jump or react. James at her back was fine again and there was a relief in that acknowledgement she wanted to sink into. “We’re here.”

“I know,” she said, then tilted her head to look back and meet his gaze as she ran the washcloth under her arm and then toward her breast. “I know exactly where we are. Was it like coming home for you?” Because for her it had been and not in the same breath. There were feelings tied up in this structure. A lot of complicated emotions both in waiting to see it and then, finally, they’d arrived. New. Old. Familiar. Different. So strange.

“Yes—and no. More because you were with me than the place itself,” he said, a thoughtful look on his face before he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “You’re my home. This is—bittersweet. When you remember…”

“We can come back here for real.” Setting the washcloth back in the bowl, she walked a little circle with her knees to face him. Speaking of real, the floor needed a rug. Something oval, heavily thatched and dark green to bring the outside in would work. For now, the blanket towel worked to cushion her against the wood. “I’m sorry I didn’t—don’t remember more.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to be sorry, Natalia. Did I hope it might spark some recognition? Yes. And it did—you felt something here.”

Which was true. The secret door. The fireplace. The hidey-holes, though arguably they didn’t really count, she just knew herself. Cupping his face, she leaned forward until their foreheads pressed together. The dull throb of her earlier headache had faded. It wasn’t totally gone but it was hardly worth focusing on.

“I hate that you still have to carry all of this on your own.” It was a lot to carry.

“I don’t,” he said. “I’d rather remember than not.” The promise in his voice stroked over her. When he slid an arm around her then lifted her and set her on the air mattress, she smiled. The firelight reflected off his pale blue eyes as he studied her. “When they first woke me up in Wakanda, everything was a jumble. I could barely make the connection between the Soldier and Bucky—I was both and neither.”

“I remember. You came to my room to give me your mission readiness status.” He’d been so aloof and at the same time eager. It had been an odd combination and she never quite figured out how he slipped Friday’s watch.

A faint hint of red touch his cheeks as he ducked his chin. Charmed, she tugged his shirt free from his jeans. “I was not really myself.”

“You were and you weren’t. You were trying to put the pieces together. You wanted me to know you were prepared for a mission.”

“I saw you—outside with Tony and Clint trying to keep me at a distance while Steve was welcoming me. Some part of my brain just flipped over. I knew you. The Widow. Status… Handler. I wasn’t sure about the status, but I knew you were the handler I wanted. The Soldier knew it. He knew you—everything else was—noise. Me? I struggled a little.”

A grin pulled at the corner of her mouth. “Didn’t stop you from flirting.”

James snorted. “I was a bit of an ass. Trying too hard. It was like I had extremes, getting the two sides to knit together took time—a few weeks.”

She remembered.

“What I’m saying, Doll, is whether you remember today, tomorrow, a week from now or a year… it’s all going to take time. Don’t be hard on yourself. There’s a lot this beautiful mind of yours has been through.” He slid his fingers through her hair and then she spread her hands against his abdomen and stroked up his chest. “So much. I know you worry about Natalia.”

“Worried sounds strange—everything about this situation is strange. I wasn’t kidding when I said I walked away from being Natalia Romanova. In ’84, I was just done. Everything in me yearned for it to be over…” When she tugged his shirt up, he raised his hands and let her pull it up and off. Tracing her fingers over the scars and mottled skin of his left pec and shoulder, she said, “I know you may not want to hear this, but I was ready to die. I think if it had been in me to kill myself I would have.”

The muscles in his chest stiffened under her fingertips and she kept her gaze on the scars and not his face.

“I wanted to be free, but even after I walked away—I didn’t know _how_ to be free. Knowing what I know now… I was grieving not for one life, but for four of them. Yours. Mary’s. The Natalia who had Mary and the Natalia I became after I gave her up. I—didn’t know who I could be, I had no place in the world.”

“Natalia…” His fingers firmed on her chin and lifted her gaze to meet his.

“I know differently now.” She could own that piece. “I earned the place I have. I made this place—first with Clint, SHIELD, his family—then Tony and Steve and the Avengers. Now you and Peter. I earned this. No one gives you a place, maybe they give it to some people because it’s where they were born and I can see that. But then? I could _never_ have imagined this. Not even in my wildest attempts at fantasy. I’d have thought I was delusional.”

His smile was so sad and so fond, but he held her face up and she studied his eyes.

“I’m a monster. I have no place. Love is for children. These are the tools I had when I walked away. I look around this place…I look at you… I think about those few pieces I have back and I know why I clung to those tools. I’ve clung to them a long time. I know some of it is conditioning.” She still clung to them, but he didn’t need to hear that. She tilted her head, leaning into his touch and he pressed his lips to hers for a gentle whisper of a kiss. After, he let her go long enough to rise and strip off his jeans before sliding onto the mattress and the heated blanket with her.

Rolling onto his side, he propped his head against his fist and stared at her. She scooted down to mirror him but cupped his cheek, memorizing his face.

“But there are things that I do and think and believe—and I don’t know how much of that is because of what I don’t remember.”

“When you remember—it might change?” There was no judgment in his eyes or his voice.

“Maybe. I mean—we are the product of our experiences. I am the daughter of the Red Room. Ivan was my father and Madame B my mother.”

His expression held severe distaste. “Natalia they weren’t parents.”

“They were the only ones I knew James. You see—when they are all you know, it’s hard to think of them as terrible because you don’t know it can be any other way. A word of praise from them could keep me flying for a week. One frown could make me work five times as hard.”

“I remember,” he said with a sigh. “I hated them both. On more than one occasion, I wanted Karpov to give me the order to end them. He had me remove Ivan once—I enjoyed that thoroughly.”

“But you hated Karpov, too.”

“Yes,” he said, tucking a curl of her hair behind her ear. “I hated him so much. Especially when he looked at you.”

“They always looked James, it never mattered to me.” Even if it nauseated her now…

“I know, but you couldn’t care, could you? So, it mattered to me. You were mine. Even before you let me have you, you were mine to keep safe, to protect.” He traced his finger down her jaw. “Before you argue with me—you protected me, Natalia. You lied to their faces, with impunity. You lied every single time you had to report on me. You saved me. Of course, I had to save you.”

“See—that stuff? I want to remember. Being here? Knowing we had this, maybe it wasn’t something I can imagine now—the isolation, the letting you do everything…”

“I hardly did everything,” he scolded.

“Well, I suppose I did have the baby.” The twist of pain accompanying those words stung, but she could smile now. “I can remember that.” She had wanted that pain. She still did. “I’m happy we came here.”

“Are you?” He rolled her onto her back and stared into her eyes. “Are you truly?”

“Yes,” she said, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. She braced her hands on his shoulders. “The first time you came back you were alone.”

“The first time you truly left you were alone, too,” he reminded her.

“No, I wasn’t.”

His whole expression shifted.

“I wasn’t alone James. The one thing I can remember…I had her. I had her and I had a reason to keep moving. I wanted you. I wanted you back with us badly and I think those two desires were at war with each other until I had to make the choice to try and get you back.”

Dipping his head, he rocked his hips until she spread her legs to cradle him and then, braced on his forearms, he rested his forehead to hers again. “Thank you for coming here—for trusting me. For wanting to remember.”

“Of course, I want to remember,” she whispered. “I want her back most of all even if we can never have it.” Tears burned in her eyes and she struggled to bury it all, but the grief sweeping through her left her aching.

“I know.” Her pain reflected back at her in his eyes. “I know, Natalia. I wish I could give her back.”

Fat, cold tears slid down her face and she sniffled. She wrapped her arms around him. As it had on the island, something in her cracked and suddenly she was clinging to him as the sobs shook out of her. He whispered words soft encouraging words, rolling onto his side and pulling her close. Face buried against his throat, she couldn’t stop the tears slipping free, or the choked hiccupping coughs. It was like every bit of it clawed up her insides to get out and it just hurt.

The profound loss had burned when James told her all those weeks before, when he admitted that they’d had a child. A daughter. He named her and she became something real, an ephemeral dream, but real. On the island, the pain hit her all over again. She couldn’t stop thinking about her, thinking about why she’d made the choices she had.

One precious moment coming back to her—seeing Mary for the first time—gave her hope. Hope was the deadliest emotion in the world. It hurt. She hurt. Pain could be compartmentalized, but this pain refused to stay in its box as it wrecked through her. The damn tears wouldn’t stop, but James never let her go.

Eyes sore and throat raw, they finally slowed. James still murmured, his words a mixture of English, Russian, and French. The gentle croon of his voice soothed her. All the while he ran his hand up and down her back, the pressure a steady reminder she wasn’t alone. Swallowing, she lifted her head and he loosened his arms enough for her to lean back. His face wavered in her vision.

“Oh, Kotyonok, I am so sorry…” Tear tracks ran down his cheeks.

“Me too…” Her stuffed nose gave her a nasal voice and his expression softened with the barest hint of a smile. “I don’t even want to cry and I can’t…I can’t stop feeling like I just lost her.”

“You did,” he whispered, then began to kiss the tears from her cheeks. “Sweetheart, my darling girl, you did just lose her. It feels like _I_ just lost her.” He sniffed and then let out a weak, watery huff of a laugh. “We lost her. We have the right to mourn that…please don’t force yourself to lock this away. It just hurts you more when it breaks loose.”

“How do you do it?” He had to feel the same way she did.

“I don’t know—I’m not that healthy, Doll. I promise. I focus on you…I focus on having you back and it’s enough. It doesn’t make me want her less or make missing her easier. If I could take every memory of her I have and give them to you, I _would_.”

It wasn’t even a question. She knew that. Just as she would tell him where Mary had gone if she knew. She would give it all to him. Her breath came in little wet gasps, her stuffed nose ached and her eyes were swollen. She lost track of how long they laid there. James kept kissing her face, nuzzling the corner of her mouth, or giving her gentle kisses to her lips. He smoothed her hair back and bit by bit, she tried to reassemble herself.

“I told Tony once to imagine taking a dozen different puzzles, and throwing all the pieces together into one giant container. Shake it up, then spill a few out across the floor. You have all these pieces, and they don’t necessarily fit together. That was me. All these pieces. For the first time in a long time, I can see the image I’m supposed to be able to build…”

She couldn’t. She could see what it should look like but she couldn’t build it.

Grief sat like a lead weight on her chest and when James eased her onto her side to go add wood to the fire, she rolled onto her back. The electric blankets beneath them were warm, but she was cold for an entirely different reason.

“I can see that,” James said quietly, pulling her from her musings. “It was like that when I was trying to figure out who the gorgeous redhead was that I could see dancing. I knew so many pieces, but I couldn’t quite bring you into focus. Two years of writing it down and trying to figure out what was real and what wasn’t. Then even after Wakanda, there was a moment at the chalet where I really couldn’t figure out how you distracted me on the street.”

Sitting up slowly, she wiped at the tears on her face and glanced at him. “Which time?”

“When you pulled me away from the bridge. I could hear you talking, so I rolled the explosive toward it. Thought it would flush you from hiding, but you didn’t come out after it exploded and then…”

“And then I tackled you from behind. I had one shot,” she said, licking some of the salt from her lips. He stoked the fire up, and got it loaded with wood. With care, he pulled out some tissues and handed them to her. With a watery smile, she blew her nose before saying, “Distract. Deflect. Ambush. If you hadn’t gotten your arm up...” Well, she didn’t need to finish that thought.

“You’d have garroted me or tried. And maybe I wouldn’t have thrown you face-first into a car,” he said the last with a grimace.

She sniffled again, then smacked him lightly against his right arm. “That hurt, by the way.”

“I know,” he admitted. “The stinger hurt, too. But that bit with your phone? Voice recorder? How the hell did I know it was you? I couldn’t figure that out. It was making me nuts. Course, you were making me crazy anyway, kicking the crap out of Steve and Clint, and looking beautiful and deadly doing it. Fuck, I wanted to spar with you that day. You have no idea how bad.”

Another sniffle and she let out a little laugh. “I got that impression—Clint was really mad at me.”

A frown tightened his brow. “Stevie was irked, too. Not as irked as when I wouldn’t stop staring at you when he made food.”

They shared knowing smiles. Then laughter burst out, it was jagged and sharp and James wrapped around her as they shook together. Her eyes stung so much.

“Why was Clint mad at you?” The mirth leaking into his voice softened the huskiness left behind by raw emotion.

“Because I didn’t react when you leapt into the ring, because I—was curious about what you would do.” She sniffed. Fuck, her eyes hurt. Her right eye seemed especially tender. James wet down a fresh washcloth, then nudged her under the blanket. After she settled, he wiped her face carefully, before laying the cool damp cloth over her eyes. “There was this—knowing—you were so familiar to me and I had no idea why. When you shook my hand, it was there. When you looked at me. I think I was almost as relieved as I was puzzled when I saw you on that graduation recording, when I realized I wasn’t imagining things.”

He eased down next to her and settled his hand on her abdomen, the coolness of his left hand an anchor she could focus on.

“Then I told him about you sneaking in my room…”

A snort. “I’m surprised he didn’t shoot me.”

“I think he wanted to, but—he was frustrated with me. I wanted him to go home and all of this was going on. He wanted to back me up. He’s pretty irritating when he decides he’s going to be helpful.”

“He adores you,” James said quietly. “The Soldier approved of his loyalty and his skill and resented him for taking his place.”

Tugging the washcloth down, she squinted up at him. “James…”

“No, Doll, I know. But you had—you had Clint there, your best friend, your partner and he had taken a place we occupied. Tony and Steve were both there, they both wanted a piece. The Soldier is possessive,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then another to the corner of her eye before he tugged the washcloth back over them again. “Very possessive. Maybe I didn’t know who you were exactly or why you were important, but the Soldier understood it on a base level. All I knew was I needed you alive and to survive long enough so I could figure it out.”

She sniffled again. The washcloth was helping. Exhaustion and emptiness collided together. When she’d told Steve if she cried it was all right, that she might need to cry, she hadn’t been joking. The crying had helped relieve some of the pressure. The grief was there, but maybe not so sharp and consuming. But she’d only bled away the edges.

“We did that.”

“We did,” he murmured. “Though I think Stevie wanted to punch me when I kept staring at you.”

“Clint wasn’t a fan either.”

“Oh, no, he made that clear.” Real humor leaked into his voice. “Stevie and I talked about you.”

“Ugh,” she groaned as she elbowed him. “I don’t want to know this.”

“Yes you do,” he whispered, settling closer and sharing her pillow as he nuzzled against her hair and tickled her ear. Half-wrapped around her, his thigh over hers and the feel of his skin, rough and warm helped more than he knew.

Or maybe he did know. She covered his left hand. At least he could derive some pleasure from her touch of that arm now, too. “Okay, maybe a little.”

He chuckled. “You like knowing things.”

As much as she wanted to roll her eyes under the washcloth, she didn’t. They were too sore and he wasn’t wrong. “But that feels private.”

“Doll, the first couple of times might have been but I’m talking about Venice…”

Venice? Venice had been a mess. “When I fell asleep on Steve?” He’d irked her with that and at the same time, she’d been so tired and he’d insisted Clint would have done the same thing if he’d been up for it. Clint getting shot—she hated it when Clint was hurt especially when it was her fault.

“Yes, when Stevie got to hold you all night and you trusted him to have your back. I was jealous.” There was no self-consciousness in that statement at all. “Well and truly jealous. I put a blanket over you and Steve wanted to know what I was doing, because I had to be close and I said I felt better when you were there. I needed to be where you were and he told me he had some of my journals. Reading through them, I saw all the references to you. I had all the pieces, but no answers. When Stevie said he wasn’t backing off, I made it clear neither was I.”

Now she tugged the washcloth down. “You wonder why I didn’t want to choose—I didn’t want you two fighting. Your friendship…”

His whole expression gentled as he lifted his head and looked at her. “You wanted to protect us and our friendship is fine, Kotyonok. I know why you did it and I never wondered. Did I want you to pick me? Yes. Am I angry you couldn’t just pick me? God no. Never. Even this curiosity about Tony, the feelings you have for him or the tremendous loyalty to Clint—they earned the pieces of you that you give them. They were there for you when I couldn’t be. If we’d never separated—if we’d never been torn apart—maybe that would be different. As much as the Soldier resented them for taking his place, _I_ know they didn’t. They helped soften the void I left.”

“You did leave one,” she told him unashamed of admitting that weakness. “I am so attached to you and I was even when I couldn’t remember.”

“You still are,” he said, teasing some. “You’re a part of me. They’re a part of you—that makes them mine, too.”

She laughed. “I’m sure they’d love hearing that.”

A shrug. “I don’t care. I’ll protect them because they’re good guys, but they’re yours. Stevie… well, I looked after him for a long time, and I love you for taking care of him when he floundered here.”

Another watery smile escaped. “He was a bit of a mess. But at the same time… it was easy to overlook that. He was so determined and set in his ways. I knew when he started seeing Peggy at the nursing home that he might be ready to lean into where he was—when he was. But sometimes, he seemed so painfully unaware of just how bad the world could be and he would turn around and surprise me because I don’t think it wasn’t that he didn’t know the world could be bad…”

“Just not on his watch,” James finished. “Stevie has some very firm beliefs. Has he told you about his mother? About Sarah?”

“Some, I know she was a nurse. I know she worked a lot. I know he wanted to take care of her.”

James drew circles with his thumb against navel. “Ask him to tell you about her. I loved Aunt Sarah, she was—a remarkable woman. Tough, but kind, and she _loved_ Steve, but she also understood his stubbornness and determination to push himself even when his body wasn’t up to it.”

“She sounds wonderful.”

There was a smile in James’ voice when he said, “Think Steve, only a little shorter, prettier, and with a voice that could soothe away the worst of the day. ‘You do things because they are the right things, not because they are convenient or easy. What’s right isn’t always easy. And James Barnes, if I find out you’ve been taking my boy down to those docks or out carousing, you better sleep with one eye open. This world isn’t just about you having a good time. Understood?’” He chuckled. “You would have liked Aunt Sarah. She could back Stevie down with a look, she could put me in my place and make me enjoy the trip even when she boxed my ears.”

Natasha chuckled at the description. “That charm of yours didn’t work on her?”

“No,” James admitted. “No better than it did on my ma. They were good friends. They were so different, but they understood each other.” He sighed. “It seems so long ago and like yesterday.”

“You’ve lost so much. You both have.”

“We all have,” he said, then tugged the washcloth against her eyes. “We’ve found a lot, too.” The whisper made her smile and then he snuggled close to her. “I know you don’t like to be protected.”

“It’s—” Before she could finish the thought, he pressed a finger to her lips.

“Listen.” The hint of a request in the order softened it.

She nodded, eyes closed beneath the cloth even if she’d rather look at him.

“I know you don’t like to be protected. You don’t want anyone to stand between you and the rest of the world. I know, maybe more than anyone else, just how well you can take care of yourself.” His voice dipped. “I also know how long you’ve had to, without anyone, without me or Clint or Stevie or Tony or any of the Avengers. I know that for the first eighteen years of your life you had no one on your side. It made you marble and it armed you to the teeth, but it also robbed you of security. Just because you _can_ survive on your own doesn’t mean you should have to. So many times I wasn’t there, Natalia. So many times I wanted to be and I couldn’t.”

She tugged the washcloth down again and met his gaze. With care, she lifted the cool cloth to wipe away the tear tracks on his cheeks.

“But I’m here now and we’re together and as long as there is breath in my body, I’m damn well going to protect you and you can lump it. Independence is fine. Trusting your skills is fine. Knowing I can take a hit far better than you and buy you the time to put a bullet between its eyes?”

She sniffed once, meeting his gaze and the dare sparking in them. “I thought you were supposed to be the better shot?” The defiance was as natural as breathing and his mouth quirked. Eyebrows raised, she sensed it a second before he moved and his hand closed over her knee. “James…” But he ignored the warning and tickled her. Laughter spiked through her and she squirmed as he pinned her until she was half-crying from it.

“You are such a brat,” he murmured, easing up enough to cup her face and before she could argue, he was kissing her. From grief-fueled sobbing to raw confessions to helpless laughter, she tumbled right into the passion-soaked promise in his kiss.

Words faded away as he devoured her mouth and she dug her nails into his shoulders, then down his back. Need swarmed through her and they swung between gentleness and demand. There was little time or thought given to foreplay, the first thrust sinking him into her had her crying out against his mouth. With the swiftness of knowing each other so well, she locked her legs around him even as he tilted her hips and they strained into each other, chasing that first orgasm.

The next few hours passed in a blur. He reached for her or she for him and they would swing from soft words and conversation to passion-fueled kisses, nips, and pushing each other further. More than once, she rode him, once he tumbled her over to her stomach, then froze. But she pushed back at him and pulled him down.

They would have a little water and doze. Once she woke to him teasing her breasts until she squirmed. Another he asked for her ass and she wasn’t going to say no. There were no limits, they just needed each other too much. What startled her was how intense the orgasm was as he pushed her—or maybe she pushed him—but when they finally collapsed in a sweaty heap, laughter eddied up through her.

Her muscles were like butter and her body loose. There were bite marks all over James and she was bruised in all the right ways. As he panted against her ear, she trailed her fingers up and down his spine. Well and truly spent, she marveled at just having him there.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I have for a long time.”

“I know.”

“Smug,” she said, smiling.

“Definitely, I got the best dame in the world and she loves me. I got plenty of reasons to be smug.” He lifted his head, the blown pupils and swollen lips a beautiful sight. “I’m trying to decide if I’m being greedy.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“I’m not done,” he whispered and her eyebrows rose. The stir of interest those words provoked was hard to deny.

“No?”

“No,” he murmured as he began kissing his way down her body.

“Well,” she gasped as he sucked on a sensitive nipple. Everything was so sensitive and sore in all the right ways. “We do need to boost my serum.”

A flash of a smile as he looked up at her, his hair gloriously disheveled. “We do… don’t we?”

Okay. Maybe that challenge had been a mistake, but the next time they collapsed, she floated. James spent as much time telling her he loved her and all the things he loved about her as he had kissing her and her mind and body were in perfect sync, drifting. Some part of her was aware that he’d left the air mattress, then he was back adding wood to the fire.

A click roused her from the drift, but she couldn’t quite work up the energy to shift even when he peeled back the blanket and wiped her down. Hissing as he ran the cloth up the inside of her legs, she blinked up to find him smiling at her.

“Sorry, Kotyonok, I got carried away.”

Arm flopping a little, she patted his leg. “Sore is not bad.” The sheer effort it took to say those words though ended with the punctuation of her yawn. “Felt. Great.”

He chuckled before nuzzling a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Go back to sleep, Doll.”

“Not sleeping,” she complained. “Floating.”

“Then float,” he whispered and kissed her, the slow press of his lips on hers distracted her as he cleaned her up. The sweat on her body had cooled and she was sore and loose and so relaxed. Some time between one kiss and the next, he’d tucked them back under the blankets and curved around her with her back to his chest, his thigh between hers and his breath tickling against her nape.

The fire had dimmed. The wind outside a gentle whoosh. His heartbeat was a steady rhythm lulling her back to sleep.

The next time she opened her eyes, he was still curled around her, the steadiness and warmth a blanket she snuggled back into.

_She slipped out of the bed at Mary’s first stir, which was an adorable little grunt of sound. It was a thirty-second warning that crying was imminent. James grumbled a little grunt as he shifted to curl half into her spot, the sound so very much their daughter that she snorted. With practiced care, she changed her wet diaper for a dry one and had her up and against her breast before the first cry could be more than a gurgle. Mary rooted for a moment, but she latched beautifully. _

_Carrying her out of the bedroom so James could sleep, she set the nappy to soaking in the sink. It was just wet and would clean easily. Working with just one hand had become a skill in the last three months. She got the water on to heat while she moved through the kitchen. It would be too warm to bake today and James disliked it when she opened all the windows, though she couldn’t fault him for that. Neither of them were comfortable with easy sightlines but he’d added screens for a reason and the fresh air would do them all good._

_Though Mary had already dozed off, she was still latched and occasionally drinking so Natalia fixed her tea then carried the mug out to the porch. Natalia returned inside and eased one of the stones aside on the fireplace before she drew out the book she stored there and the pen, then she pressed it back into place. The seams were near perfect and the stone didn’t rock at all. When James had been expanding the fireplace, she’d secreted this little spot. _

_The rocking chair had been a surprise. James had brought it back with him from his first trip to town for supplies when Mary was just three days old. It was smooth and wide enough she could sit in it cross-legged with Mary cradled in her lap. _

_Some evenings when Mary wouldn’t settle, she’d just sit out here and rock her. They would have to take it inside when winter came, but for now, she loved to sit out here with her tea. He’d put a small table right next to the chair, then spent a week reinforcing the cover on their porch and making sure the railings and the steps were secure. It didn’t seem to matter that Mary would hardly be toddling against them, nothing was allowed around Mary that might be a threat._

_Before she was born, Natalia had secured their weapons. Tucking them away in hidey-holes. They would take her a few extra seconds to get to them, but there were more weapons secured behind the sofa, under the mattress of the bed and even a knife strapped under the drawer they used for Mary to sleep in. James had bought a crib, but the bars on it made Natalia uneasy and even James disliked it enough that he tore it apart again._

_No, Mary slept with them or right next to them and never in a cage._

_The sun rising as she sipped her tea, then she flipped open the book and carefully noted the date and then studied her daughter. What changes had she noted in the last day… she documented all of them. Every time Mary focused on her or responded to their voices. She loved it when they spoke. It was almost funny, neither James nor Natalia were big on long conversations. They’d gotten better at it, but they needed so few words._

_Mary needed more. When they read to each other was Mary’s favorite. Natalia tracked how her attention seemed to rivet on whoever was doing the reading. The night before, James read three extra chapters because he had Mary nestled in his arms staring up at him with her sleepy eyes and scrunched nose. _

_Stubborn little one didn’t want to sleep. Eventually, she’d given in but not without complaint. Natalia loved everything about her, but sometimes she had no idea what she was doing. Ask her to kill a man and she wouldn’t have any issue, but soothing Mary took deft skill. Not that she needed soothing often, she was such a happy baby. She loved music and dancing. _

_Natalia wondered if she would want to learn ballet and a part of her shied away from the concept. Never until her feet bled and never until she could barely stay on her feet from the cramping in her muscles. But for fun? _

_Fun._

_Natalia wrote that in the journal. Mary liked fun. A concept she and James still needed to get used to. They had time to train though, to prepare. All the books she’d read suggested cognitive development came in stages when babies were this young. They formed attachments and relationships to their voices primarily and as they grew older, with eye contact. Mary had to learn what they looked like though she knew them by smell, Natalia was certain._

_If Mary was hungry, she did not want James. But if she was unhappy or cranky, she often wanted James then. Singing and reading were good for helping her develop those attachments and could help cement her language skills. Multiple languages were also fine, so Natalia spoke to her as often in English as she did in Russian and French, occasionally Italian. She tried to limit it to four, for now, primarily English and Russia. In English she clung to the American accent she perfected so much that James cajoled her one night to speak to him in Russian and that ended up very nicely._

_He missed her Russian accent, he’d told her and so now if she beckoned to him in Russian there was a very good chance he would pin her against the wall and have her right there._

_All good things._

_Still, she’d put together a plan based on her research. Making exaggerated faces was encouraged. The first time James caught her crossing her eyes and making an ‘oh’ face before she tickled Mary, he’d been so entertained he laughed for ten minutes. He was a natural at that, though, his stoicism melted away for Mary. The Brooklyn in his voice came out more and more._

_They’d been in Montana nearly a year and her Soldier had become so much more, the man underneath surfacing and sometimes she wasn’t sure what to do with him when he flirted. The Soldier didn’t flirt, but James? He had the sexiest smile and knocked her off-center when she least expected it with a compliment that would leave her flat-footed. _

_Mary grumbled a complaint, eyes open as Natalia glanced at her._

_“Still hungry, Malyshka?” The infant’s appetite was nearly ceaseless. Thankfully, Natalia had no problem producing milk. The fact she could at all had been a delight. These were not things she’d been trained for or ever expected to do. Moving Mary so she could nurse against her other breast, Natalia waited until she settled to note:_

Tracking movement better

Responding to verbal cues

Increased awareness

Such a happy baby

_The last wasn’t really a necessary observation, but then counting her fingers and toes wasn’t necessary either. She glanced up as the sun began to crest the horizon and smiled. In the summer, the sun rose so early but she loved being able to watch it. _

_“Someday, Malyshka,” Natalia murmured. “You will complain that Mama gets you up so early to see the sunrise and Mama will tell you that every sunrise is a promise and a reward. We are still here. We made it to another day.”_

_She finished her notes, then closed the journal. It wasn’t long before Mary’s sucks decreased to nothing and she’d gone soundly back to sleep. Natalia carried her and the journal back inside. She stored it away in its spot and then carried Mary back into the bedroom. James had sprawled across all of the bed and she smiled down at him before setting Mary in the drawer to sleep and drawing the blanket over her. _

_These two had become her whole world._

_His eyes fluttered open as if aware of her scrutiny and for the barest of moments, his nose scrunched and then his eyes softened. _

_“Natalia…”_

_“Hmm,” she soothed as she crouched close to the bed and stroked her hand against his hair. “Go back to sleep, zvezda moya. The day is yet young.”_

_“Come with me,” he tugged her close and kissed her. There were still chores to do, but they made their own demands. “Is our tsarevna asleep?”_

_“Da with a full tummy.” At her words, his gaze dipped to her still bared breasts, she hadn’t bothered to close her top yet. _

_“Good…then it’s my turn.” He tugged her in and rolled her over kissing her and smothering her laughter. _

_Yes. _

_Her whole world._

Natasha snapped her eyes open. The fire was embers, but the portable heater and the electric blankets, not to mention James, offered her plenty of warmth. “My whole world,” she whispered, then snapped her head toward the fireplace. She jerked so swiftly, James rolled up and off the air mattress, a gun in his hand and his gaze sharp.

“What is it?”

“Not a threat,” she told him, but scrambled over the stones of the hearth and shoved aside one of the bags they’d brought up to kneel and free the stone she knew had to be loose. It lay there perfectly even with the rest, not even a tremble until she worked her fingers into the little crevice and lifted.

The stillness behind followed by a long, slow exhale. A part of her regretted startling him, but she had to know. The stone lifted and she reached in for the little book. It was still there and beneath it, a small box. Her hands shook, as she sat on the wood floor and flipped through the book.

There were notes—the day she was born. The second day.

It was nearly full, with little comments for every single day.

“Natalia,” James whispered as he came to crouch next to her. “Come. It’s cold here.”

“I wrote this…I wrote…I kept notes on her. I wanted to make sure I remembered things and I was paying attention to her cognitive development. The books said it was important and I tracked everything.” Her hands were shaking almost too much to turn the pages and James snagged the book and the box and lifted her right up and carried her over to the sofa and dragged a blanket around her as he settled her in his lap.

With care, he helped her open the book.

“You got me a rocking chair—the week after she was born. You went to town to get supplies and you brought back a rocking chair. It was on the porch.”

“Da,” he said softly.

“I knew the porch needed one—when we got here, I kept thinking it needed one.” It was another memory, maybe an echo of one, but she had it.

They went through each page.

_Malyshka is as stubborn as her father. She will not sleep without him and he is late._

James laughed aloud when he read that entry. She could barely see the words, but he read them to her and she grinned at some of the descriptions. The first time she rolled over and James being so concerned. When she sat up. The first time she grabbed for something. Playing shapes. Her first words.

Natalia had written everything down.

Everything.

Brilliant woman. Natasha could kiss her.

She swiped at her tears. The entries tapered off around fourteen months.

_I am getting lax about keeping these notes, but I am more comfortable with this life than I ever thought possible. James wants another baby. I have no idea if we can. But I am not opposed. Though I warned him…_

At those words, James pressed his face to her shoulder and laughed, but there were tears too.

Natasha wiped at her eyes. “What did I warn you?”

“If we had another then your breasts would both be claimed and I would be out of luck.”

A giggle burst through her. “Poor you.”

“Yes, poor me.” He bit her gently. “I am very fond of your breasts.”

“You get to play with them now.” Her body was still a little sore and achy from the night before. He’d more than played with her.

“I know.” Another nip. “This last entry is about a month before they came…” His voice went solemn.

_Mary walks much better than she lets on, but all she has to do is hold her hands up and Papa will lift and carry her. James spoils her terribly. He is helpless against her or so he claims. Arguably, she has a gift. But she is a happy girl. Her laughter lights up my soldier in a way I never thought possible. If I can give him another, I plan on it. Being a mother is not what I ever expected, but she is worth it. _

That was it. The last entry.

“You never told me you were certain,” he whispered.

“James, I never kicked you out of my bed,” she told him. If anything, Natalia’s decision had been made from the beginning. If she hadn’t wanted to try, continuing to have sex without any kind of protection would have been a bad idea.

He spread his fingers against her stomach. “Do not be angry, but I really hope you weren’t when they came.”

She couldn’t be angry. “Me too.”

On the run with a toddler would have been difficult enough, but pregnant, too? She didn’t recall thinking she was pregnant in any of the fragments she’d reclaimed but Natalia had a rigid discipline to her thoughts that only broke for two people. She told James about the dream, the fresh grief added another layer but she had loved taking care of her, balancing the baby’s needs against her own.

The box was small, it looked like a jewelry box, but she found the little catch and popped it open. Her heart stopped and James’ swift inhale rocketed through her.

Pictures.

The top one was faded and bled out, but she could make out James’ shape in it. The one beneath it was a little better, but the next one—the next one was her lying in their bed with a newborn against her chest. His arms flexed around her.

There were only a few—James holding Mary, Natalia with her. Two of Mary alone. Of the few, only four seemed to have survived wholly intact. Polaroids weren’t meant long-term, especially when they hadn’t been preserved.

“Bless your clever mind and cunning heart, lyubov moya.” James stared at one, it was Mary at her breast and Natalia looked exhausted, but the smile on her face couldn’t be denied. “Thank you for keeping secrets.”

Another kiss and they went through them again. She had no idea how long they sat there, staring at the photos, flipping through the book. Each time she read an entry, she found something new. Something in the way she wrote. When they’d fled, she probably hadn’t had time to grab them out of their spot.

She was just lucky the box and book had survived there all these years. Eventually, they had to move. James built up the fire, they had tea and a rough breakfast. He dragged in the tub and insisted she bathe, but he never left. Not for longer than a moment. Loss clung to her, but at the same time, there was this bittersweet hope still burning like a stubborn ember that refused to be put out.

If she could find all these pieces, surely she could find the rest.

“Do you think she would like us?” she asked as she soaked in the hot water and he packed up the blankets.

“Natalia, she loved us. She will love you now.”

“But…”

“No, no buts. If—when we find her. She will know she had the best mother in the world, a woman who gives up everything for those she loves. A woman who still shines even when the world craps on her. She will love you.”

Will.

Hope was cruel.

She didn’t want to hope.

Hopes could be dashed. They could be destroyed.

They could die.

After he deflated the air mattress, he helped her wash her hair. When she insisted he bathe, he went for a sponge bath. “I’ll shower when we’re back at the Tower.”

Back at the Tower. It seemed a million miles away.

“You needed the bath, Kotyonok. I was not gentle with you.” The bruises on her hips and thighs were a testament to that, but they were already fading.

“I clearly didn’t mind,” she told him drily and he chuckled. Still, the humor came and went.

“We don’t have to go,” he said. “I told them we might stay longer.”

“No,” she said slowly. “Hiding here would be lovely, but we have a lot to do—and we need to go to Wakanda.”

“Da?”

“Da.” She met his gaze. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Understanding flared in his eyes. “Then we dress and pack up what we’re taking back with us. The rest can stay here. We’ll secure the cabin and come back after, we’ll bring real supplies and I’m fixing our bed.”

“And a rocker?”

His whole expression gentled. “Whatever you want.”

They were quiet for a while; the precious discoveries were packed into bags they would keep with them. The weapons were sorted, stripped and packed away, too. James would restock the cabin when they came back. There were still explosives out in the snow they had to secure.

Packing took far longer than unpacking, but neither of them complained. They could have asked the guys to fly up, but she wasn’t ready to leave yet and every moment they spent securing and straightening was another moment they could stay.

She needed a little more time to insulate her heart again. Everything was still too fresh. After they’d taken the last load to the car and secured the cabin, disconnecting everything and shutting down the generator, she stared at it for a long time. James didn’t hurry her along, just stood there in the cold together. “We’ll be back,” he promised.

While she believed him, she didn’t want to forget this place.

She’d lost it once.

Never again.


	52. Perspectives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Nat return to the hangar and meet up with the guys

**Chapter Fifty-Two**

_Perspectives_

**Bucky**

He took his time on the drive down the mountain. Sharing Natalia’s reluctance to leave, he kept checking on her, but her attention remained out the window. When they’d first pulled out, he half-expected she would glance back, but she never did. That made sense, in a way, Natalia had a goal in mind. A mission.

The steel of her focus would be lasered on what came next and maybe that was for the best. The last couple of days had been… extraordinary. He’d never felt closer to her or further away. Those files…

Natalia had taken their files. Those would have to have been in Karpov’s office in Moscow at Lubyanka. Stealing anything from Karpov was risky, that she’d taken his file and those notes…

If Bucky thought about it at all, he could recall those women. Nothing specific, he’d probably not even be able to recognize them from photographs. Two blondes, one brunette—three redheads.

Fuckers.

His lack of performance hadn’t been credited to him, no they’d stood there discussing him like he was meat. The Soldier’s compliance was mandatory but none of those women were Natalia and he didn’t want them. Even after they pumped him full of drugs and forced an erection. Not only did he really not want them then, he didn’t want them touching him.

Their deaths hadn’t been pretty, but most of them had been quick. The others couldn’t get close to him and while some of it was a blur, the moment Natalia arrived the world had sharpened. The look in her eyes, the understanding and the compassion—he’d deserved none of it.

_“Where was I?”_

_“Natalia…”_

_“No something about this tells me I was there… where was I, James?”_

With startling clarity, he could see the way she’d surveyed the room, the destruction, and the bodies littering the floor. The red hair on some of them gave her pause, but she didn’t comment. Behind her were a dozen armed men and all of them had their guns pointed at him—worse until she’d lifted her hand then one by one, they’d raised their muzzles so they weren’t pointing at them.

_“Can you contain him, Widow?”_ Karpov’s sleazy voice drifted from somewhere—a speaker most likely. He wouldn’t dare set foot in that room with the Soldier off his leash.

_“You have given me the orders. Now obey my request. He will not calm as surrounded as he is. His training will not allow it.”_

A snort of laughter or maybe derision. _“Very well, Widow. I expect him to be delivered to me by sundown tomorrow for reconditioning. In all likelihood, you both need it.” _

_“Understood, General.”_

_“Hmm…bring me the report of his performance personally, Widow.”_

Something hot, tight, and possessive had unfolded in the Soldier. He took a step forward, intending to kill that son of a bitch for talking to her that way, but she raised her hand this time and he’d stopped cold. His whole body burned, he ached desperately to kill something or to fuck her. Natalia didn’t need to be here for this. Because she was the only one he wanted. The agony in his head and his body hadn’t helped.

Sitting in front of the fire in their little cabin, he hadn’t wanted to tell her that they’d pulled her from Moscow and brought her to the facility in Siberia. They never discussed his time there and he’d clung to the desperate hope that unlike Arkhangelsk, she had never been here. They handled most of his modifications there.

_When he’d opened his mouth, she gave the barest shake of her head. No words. His gaze flicked to the speakers. There were mics there too. Even with the fever burning in his blood and messing with his mind, he’d clung to the present as much as possible. _

_Natalia was with him._

_They couldn’t afford to slip. Pivoting, she’d gone to the open door. The soldiers who’d been there were gone. The hall empty. Disliking the implications of a possible trap, he’d strode across to retrieve her, but she’d glanced at him and all the air backed up in his lungs._

_She was so fucking beautiful._

_He wanted to touch her._

_“Wait,” she told him simply and he dropped the hand reaching out to her. “We have to clear the facility.”_

_Oh. That suggestion knifed through the desire hazing his gaze. Yes, if it wasn’t secure, he couldn’t risk her. _

_“Parameters?”_

_“Everyone is to be out. All surveillance must be disabled.” The last she said so low not even the mics above would be able to catch it. “Be brutal, James. Destroy their equipment. But be swift.”_

_Understanding flared through him. “What will you be doing?” Because she would be out of his sight and that was unacceptable._

_“Securing the entrances so they can’t come back in.”_

_Ah._

_What was in would stay in and what was out would stay out._

_He raked his gaze over her. _

_With a roll of her eyes, she pointed to the hallway. “Begin your sweep, Soldat.”_

_His lip curled at the description, but she’d told him to be brutal, so he seized her. Pinning her to the wall, he relieved her of both guns. She locked her legs around him and there was the barest hint of a smile before she twisted and tossed him on his ass. _

_Retrieving the gun that hadn’t skittered across the floor, she pressed it beneath his jaw right at his pulse point. “What did you do wrong?” _

_The challenge dripping in those words sent a flash of laughter through the fire eating him alive. Everywhere she touched him just wanted more. But she had too many clothes on. He could rip them off, lift her up and impale her. She was always wet for him it would be…_

_“Soldat!”_

_“You were awake when I took your weapons.”_

_The corner of her mouth quirked. The flex of her thighs against him a torment. He wanted her._

_“You may have one gun if you ask me nicely.” Her back was to the cameras, there was no way they could see the warmth in her eyes or the affection. _

_“Please.”_

_“So good for me, Soldat,” she crooned and then she was on her feet and striding away from him. He rolled to his side and watched her go as he stood. They’d left him in pajama bottoms and no armor, not even shoes. His cock was like stone and his flesh on fire and everything he wanted in the world was walking away from him._

_Snagging a weapon, he moved to his feet and then ripped the camera off the wall as he passed it. The facility wasn’t large, but he knew where every surveillance device was and he destroyed them with extreme prejudice. The destruction helped to curb the violent need pounding in his veins. _

_The sweep took time, but he finished in twenty minutes. All surveillance equipment destroyed and he’d found Natalia in the control room, she’d pulled out all the tapes, smashed them, then set them on fire. She held up a flask of vodka and then took a shot before offering him a drink._

_“We’re clear?” He had to know before he said anything compromising._

_“Da,” she promised. “Even if I missed something… I didn’t in there.” She pointed to the recording room. She’d disassembled most of the equipment and scattered the pieces. The Widow was brilliant. _

_He would never get over how much. The rage in his system ramped up as he took a deep breath of her scent. This close, he couldn’t miss the cleanliness of it, soap and leather, and something that was just Natalia. When they were on missions and had the rare downtime, she would indulge in different fragrances, always something new. But always she smelled like Natalia._

_Desperation crested in him and he reached for her, she caught his hand but tugged him when he would have pulled her to him._

_“One more stop, Soldat,” she murmured. “Not here. I don’t know how much they gave you. Morozov wasn’t clear.”_

_“Gave me?” There had been two bags they’d attached. They’d given him all of it. “The bags.”_

_“Yes, Soldat. The bags. How are you feeling?” She squeezed his fingers and when she moved he fell into step with her, not daring to let her get far. The contact of her fingers on him threatened every ounce of his control. _

_“Pain.” He couldn’t be more specific. He hurt everywhere. Every muscle was coiled, tense and his cock hurt so bad he thought they might have to amputate it. Pain could be… “It won’t stay leashed.”_

_The weakness was unacceptable. _

_“Don’t worry,” she soothed and they were in the wing where he was sent to sleep. Then inside the room that belonged to him. It was bare save for a single bed, scratchy blanket and pillow. The door didn’t lock, but Natalia dragged the mattress off the bed and then began to haul the heavy metal frame._

_Barricade the door because they couldn’t lock it._

_He dragged it into place then broke the handle on the door before he nodded. It might not hold but it would give him time. The hot pulse in his body was almost too much to ignore, but he tried to fix his gaze on anything except Natalia._

_He had always wanted her, but they had done this to him and he killed those women._

_“James,” she whispered and his name on her lips suck all the oxygen from him. Dragging his gaze up, he found her bare-skinned, her weapons laid out on the floor in easy reach of the mattress and his mind whited out. “Come—let me help you.”_

_“I don’t want to hurt you.”_

_“You won’t…come…”_

_Resisting her was next to impossible. “Natalia,” he pleaded. He didn’t want to break her like he had those women. But when his bare skin touched hers, he went up in flames and the world beyond her ceased to exist._

_Two days. For two days, he’d been relentless and, at first, it hadn’t been about her but easing the need in him. Bit by bit, the base animal demands had begun to recede and he fought to give her pleasure even as she’d sated him. When it was done, finally, and he’d been spent, he fought sleep. He knew what would come next._

_Her soft whisper in his ear imprinted itself in his brain. “I will find you, James. I promise. Hold onto me and I will find you.” _

_The next time he roused, they had already loaded him into the chair and Natalia was nowhere to be found. Karpov scowled at him. “You had one job and the only bitch you’d sniff after is the Widow.” Despite the ugliness of his words, he laughed. “Did you enjoy her, Soldat?”_

_The Soldier didn’t answer. Refused. Let them do what they will. Natalia came to save him. He would protect her._

_“Hmmm… maybe I’ll find out, what do you think of that?”_

_White-hot rage ballooned inside of him but he couldn’t react. Didn’t dare react. Expose the weakness and Karpov would leverage Natalia more than he already did. _

_Apparently, his lack of a response bored the general. “She’s right. Maybe you do need more responses. Reset him.”_

_Three days later, Natalia met him in the training room. A faint smile on her lips as she curled her fingers in an invitation to spar the staticky buzz cleared away._

_She found him._

_Just like she promised._

Bucky sighed. No, so many things he didn’t want her to remember amongst all the things he did. How she’d been able to look at him and still care about him after he’d used her so mercilessly would forever confound him and yet as long as she would have him, he wasn’t going away. When she’d fallen apart in his arms, all he’d wanted was to give her back some semblance of the peace they’d once found. Impossible as it was, he’d given her pleasure and lost himself to it as well.

He waited until they were on the state highway toward the airport before he sent a message to let them know they were on their way and would be there soon. Natalia had yet to say another word, but her gaze was a million miles away and his heart ached for her. The photos—she’d found photos and the journal—those were precious. The birth certificate and the lock of hair. Gifts beyond measure.

_“Zvezda moya, I don’t trust anyone with all of my secrets.” _

From anyone else, that might be a sign of mistrust. From his Natalia, however, it merely meant she had been trained from young to keep that which was private very private. It was why he found her art choices so fascinating. What she chose to put on her walls reflected her interests, allowed some small part of her to sneak out. Like Steve putting up all the photos of them, they were a gift for Natalia, marking her place and showing her he cared. But it was also his way of saying they were a family and protecting the memories they were creating.

Fuck, they had to talk to Steve about some of the stuff at the cabin. He didn’t want him to know about the drugs, the women, or the fact Karpov wanted Bucky to stand stud. A part of him wished Natalia didn’t know, but there had been no judgment in her eyes then or now. They were not allowed their own agency, only that which they’d taken and given each other.

His phone buzzed and Natalia dragged her gaze from the window to where it lay in the cup holder between them. “Do you want me to…?” They were the first words she’d spoken since leaving the cabin. The fact she’d nearly had an episode hadn’t been lost on him nor the fact she seemed to be checking out now.

“Sure,” he murmured, glancing at her. The urge to pull over and just settle her in his lap, or take her back to the cabin until she was truly ready flooded him. He would do neither, though. She’d made her decision and she needed time to process the cabin.

“It’s Steve,” she said quietly. It wasn’t a surprise. “They’re waiting for us. Promised fresh coffee and apparently someone went out and found pirozhkis for us.” Not even that little bit of news brightened her tone.

“In Montana?” The skeptic in him snorted. “Probably Tony and I’ll bet he had to fly to another state to grab them.” Then again, Montana had changed in 40 years. It had gotten about 300,000 more people so what did he know?

“I’m telling him thank you, we’ll be there—” She paused as the phone vibrated.

“He wants to know how you are,” Bucky said without glancing at the phone. The last two days had probably driven Stevie spare. “Tell him you’re all right, but they should give you some space when you get there.”

“I’ll be fine, James,” she argued and he slowed the SUV and then pulled over and hit the hazards. Not there was any traffic to warn. Twisting in the seat, he eyed her and she sighed. “I’m fine.”

“You want to be and you _will_ be. Right now, you’re not and it’s all right that you’re not.” The awareness of those photos, journal, and all the little clues they’d gathered burned in the back of his mind, a constant steady flame and he had most of his memories intact. The idea of going back—even to Steve and the others—scraped him raw because the last two days had tossed him right back into the past and he wasn’t ready to share her yet. He’d get there.

“It’s a lot,” she admitted yet still shook her head. “But they’ve all had to keep their distance so much…”

“And they will be fine doing it again if it’s what you need,” he reminded her. “Natalia, they love you. All of them. They just spent almost three whole days and two nights inside that quinjet just to be here for you.” Holding out his hand, he said, “Give me the phone. You can tell Stevie and the others what you like, but I am going to give them my advice.”

She surrendered his phone then wrinkled her nose, a hint of a spark in her eyes. “Being in the cabin has made you bossy again.”

Chuckling, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Did I stop being bossy somewhere along the way? Because I do believe we’re at five, we can get to ten before we’re back at the quinjet if you put a little effort into it.”

Warmth chased the chill from her eyes, not for long, but still, her expression softened. “Not sure I’m up to being that much of a brat yet. Maybe later?”

“I look forward to it,” he said with a wink, then glanced at the phone.

**Steve:** _How is she? How are you?_

**Bucky: ** _Tired. Frayed at the edges. Found a few things. Need time to process. Give her some space._

**Steve: ** _Got it. Tony wants to know if that’s airspace or nautical miles?_

Bucky chuckled and Natalia leaned her head toward him so he showed her the phone. “Hmm… can you type: _Space, the Final Frontier, these are the travels of the Black Widow Natasha, her ongoing mission to explore strange new tech, to seek out intelligent life and a better civilization, and to boldly go where only coffee has gone before.”_

With raised eyebrows, he typed that in and then added a _xoxo Angel Red_ to the end of it and Natalia burst out laughing.

“That ought to keep them,” he said and slid the phone away before wrapping his hand around her nape and studying her eyes. “You with me?”

“Always,” she whispered. “I’m just trying to… sort it out in my head.”

To compartmentalize and build her walls back up. “I can drive real slow.”

She smiled. “Not that slow, they have coffee and pirozhkis.”

“So, faster would be better?” he teased gently as he massaged the rigid muscles in her neck. So far so good, they were back on level ground with touching. She had moments and when they happened, they slowed everything. He’d been an idiot when he’d flipped her the night before. But she hadn’t let it dominate their moment either.

“How about just right?” She raised her brows, then touched her hand to his cheek. “And you’re getting a beard, James.”

“Slowly,” he said. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”

She smiled. “No, no complaints for any of that. I can still feel you.”

And if that didn’t send a bolt straight through him to his cock. She had to know what that would do to him and at the same time, pride expanded in him. She could still feel him. “Mean, Natalia,” he said. “You got your six for that.”

Her slow smile was everything. “Look at that, being a brat wasn’t so hard.”

With a light groan, he gave her a kiss. “We’ll be back at the Tower in a few hours. Then we can revisit this.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

While she’d been playful and flirty, the smiles drifted away when he resumed their course. Her gaze went back to the window and it wasn’t hard to guess where her mind was. She could see the picture, that was what she said. She had the image she needed to construct but not the pieces. Sliding a hand onto her thigh, he sighed when she covered his hand and linked her fingers through his.

“I’m here, James, I promise.”

The drive back seemed to travel far swifter than the one they’d taken up to the cabin. It wasn’t long before they were following the road toward the hangar where the quinjet had been parked. Next to him, Natalia blew out a breath and he glanced over to find her expression schooling. Her mask was sliding back into place. She didn’t need to put on an act for anyone, but at the moment, he didn’t think she was doing it for them.

She needed the mask. So, she got to have it.

The great bay doors began to open as Bucky slowed and unsurprisingly, Steve waited for them his worried frown giving way to a relieved smile.

**Steve**

While he’d managed to sleep the first night—barely—he hadn’t bothered the second. After Clint and Tony sacked out, he’d settled in the pilot’s seat and worked on his sketchpad. It wasn’t long before Tony was up—three hours—and they made coffee, then Tony went to work on his designs and Steve sketched.

Every sketch turned into Natasha’s troubled face or Buck’s, mostly Natasha’s. Whatever had been going on when he called the day before, something had been up and that sinking feeling wouldn’t go away. Friday insisted her vitals were all within normal ranges with some variations for activities.

Sex.

They’d had sex and if they were having sex then they were doing all right, but it still didn’t settle his disquiet. Near dawn, he’d gone for a run. As far out as the airport was, he’d had some advantages of being able to just cut loose. It took to another town and they had a bakery.

When he’d spotted the pirozhkis in the case, he ordered three-dozen and then carried them on the run back along with bagels and donuts. Tony had been thrilled and Clint amused when he said they could have the latter, but leave the former for when Natasha got back.

If she came back that day. They weren’t sure if the pair were going to take another day or not. Clint checked in with his family and was on the phone with them when Steve ducked into the shower. The run had taken some of the edge off, but he needed to see her. Just put his eyes on her and know she was all right.

What had Bucky said in Venice? “_I feel better when I can see her.”_

Yeah, so did Steve.

Tony’s agitation hadn’t been lost on him. The other man fidgeted when they weren’t actively engaged in either work or poker—admittedly the poker had been a lifesaver, though Clint was down more than a few bucks and Steve and Tony were breaking around even.

When Bucky’s text came in, some of the tension leaked out of Steve’s back and the follow-up responses including the one Natasha had clearly dictated in reply to Tony’s query relaxed him a little more. They were all right or at least all right enough to leave.

With the heads up, they cleaned up the poker table, chips and broke down the cots back to benches. The air mattress had never been put out the night before. Oddly enough, he wasn’t tired. Even after the run helping to abate some of the tension. Clint got a fresh pot of coffee started for Steve and Buck while Tony pulled the pirozhkis out from where they’d been stored.

“Heated or cool?”

“Heated,” Steve told him.

“Good deal.”

None of them were talking about their expectations. Tony spent two hours the day before outlining the medical plans and procedures. At the end of it, Steve wasn’t sure if he felt any better about it or not. Though, and he admitted this to Tony, he was damn grateful for Tony. He seemed to understand all of it and even Clint said the same.

If it was up to them, they wouldn’t do this because there were too many question marks that unfortunately couldn’t be answered until they were in the procedure.

When Friday alerted them to Natasha and Bucky’s approach, Steve headed out and closed the ramp behind him to let the quinjet stay warm while he greeted them. He wanted a minute with her—with both of them—before they were all aboard.

His eyes narrowed as he studied them. Concern radiated off Buck as he put the SUV in park. Gazes locked for the space of a heartbeat, Steve caught the message. Something _had_ happened. But not here. Not now.

He nodded once. They could discuss it later.

Already on the move, he was there when Natasha pushed the door open. Pale, her eyes seemed almost too large and too bruised. A faint smile curved the corners of her lips but her eyes didn’t reflect the same. “Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey.” Everything in him crashed. She was _hurting_. “What can I do?”

Another glimmer of a smile and though this one was a little deeper, it was still sad enough to fist his heart. She stepped out and wrapped her arms around him. He closed his easily, cupping the back of her head as she hid her face and he shot a look at Bucky.

“She remembered parts of it—a hidden door, the fact there should be a rocking chair on the porch—hidey-holes.”

Hidey-holes. Steve turned that over in his head and he nodded. They’d found something. Rubbing her back in slow circles, he said, “I’m sorry it wasn’t more.”

Buck leaned against the side of the SUV, one arm on the top as he stared across at her then shook his head when he met Steve’s gaze again. “It was something. But it was exhausting. She wants to go straight to Wakanda after we get back.”

“She can talk for herself,” Natasha mumbled against his chest and Steve chuckled.

“Of course, she can,” he soothed. “Buck’s just throwing you a lifeline.”

“He’s been on lifeguard duty for the last three days.” The hint of a complaint in her voice pulled a smile from both of them.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be, Doll,” Bucky assured her as he closed the SUV door and circled around. “Think you’re up for going inside? Hot coffee? Pirozkhis? See Clint and Tony? Let them know you’re all right?”

Natasha lifted her head, while there were no tears on her cheeks there was a hint of them gleaming on her lashes. “You want to talk about me, don’t you?”

“Nah,” Bucky said, his whole demeanor indulgent. “Gonna tell Steve about the fishing up there. We might lose him to the fly fishing in the rivers.”

A wobbly laugh broke out of her. “Damn, I thought you wanted him to tell you the poker tricks I taught him.”

“Nah,” Bucky drawled. “I’ll get those from the source.”

Steve dropped a kiss on her head. “I’d never reveal your secrets, anyway.”

The smile she wore then was sudden, bright and a little brittle, but genuine. What the fuck had they found? Tension fisted in his gut, but he fought to keep it off his face and out of his voice, She read him like an open book too easily though, so he had to just relax as much as he could.

When she pushed up to give him a kiss, he cupped her face gently. God, he’d missed her. But she was back and mostly whole and in one piece. The emotional bruising they could tend and Buck seemed to have a good handle on it. She was already turning back to the SUV as she let Steve go and Bucky pulled out a pack and she took it like it was full of explosives with their detonators armed.

“We’ll be in, in a minute to start offloading,” Bucky promised her. The kiss he gave her was extremely careful and then she was off, she hadn’t even made it halfway to the ramp when it was already cycling open.

Steve tracked her path up to where Clint stood waiting and he had her wrapped in a hug as the ramp slid upward.

He swung a look back to Bucky who had a cigarette out and lit. That was another reason he hadn’t wanted to go inside. Fine, it was cold in the hangar, but Steve had a coat on and so did he. They’d be fine.

Letting him smoke, Steve went to the back of the SUV and opened it up. He could press and dig at Bucky for answers, or he could let him work his way there. The fact he hadn’t wanted to discuss it in front of Natasha spoke volumes, though. Steve just wasn’t quite sure if what the message was.

Then Bucky held something out to him and Steve set the box down to take the offer. It was a carefully folded piece of paper, inside was a lock of hair that he took damn good care not to drop and a photograph.

Bucky was holding an infant. They’d found another photograph and she was much younger and so tiny.

“Buck.”

“Yeah,” the other man said, blowing out a stream of smoke away from him. “The day she was born. Natalia made her a birth certificate.”

Steve examined the paper and the careful words written on it.

_Mary Elizabeth Yakovlevna Romanova Barnes_

“Yakovlevna?” The Barnes leapt right out at him. Not that it wasn’t real before but something about the full name just added to it.

“Means daughter of James—roughly.” The other man said. “Alianovna—daughter of Alian—your kid would be Stefanovna or Stefanovich.”

His kid.

Yeah, he didn’t want to focus on that too tightly at the moment. Not when he could see the expression on Bucky’s face in that photo. He’d _loved_ his daughter even more than he’d been letting on. Of course, he had, but this—the image told the whole story. It wasn’t just Bucky who’d loved her. The Soldier had, as well.

“How you doing?” It was probably a shitty question, but asking him if he was all right was out. They were _not_ all right. They were both hurting. He tucked the photo and the hair with the blue ribbon back into the folded birth certificate carefully before returning them to Bucky.

He put out his cigarette and said, “Better than she is… it was hard on her Stevie. Harder than I expected, maybe I should have expected it, but—she’s so frustrated with not remembering even if or maybe especially because… it was all familiar.”

Steve raked a hand through his hair. A part of him wanted to say he wished he’d been there, for them, to try and help, but they hadn’t wanted him there and they’d needed to do this on their own. He got it; he just really didn’t like it.

When Bucky looked at him this time though, Steve pushed away from the SUV and wrapped his arms around him. Bucky returned the hug.

“It was really fucking hard,” he whispered. “It was like going home and not in the same breath. Having her there—it was just all right there and the one missing piece is the one that I can’t fix.”

“I know,” he said because he did.

They didn’t say anything else and when Bucky pulled free, Steve let him go. His best friend gripped his shoulder. “Thank you—thank you for letting us go without you or making it a thing.”

“Never gonna like letting you guys face something so painful on your own, but I was here.”

“Your call helped,” Bucky promised him. “That laugh? Fuck, she needed it. You called and it definitely helped.”

Relief sagged through him. “Thanks for telling me that.” He exhaled, “Straight to Wakanda?”

“Pretty sure she’s telling Tony and Clint that right now. But I want an overnight at the Tower first. See if we can ease her down a little before walking into that particular nightmare.” He tucked the photo and birth certificate back into a sleeve then into his jacket. “Let’s get this crap onboard.”

“Buck…” Steve said quietly and his friend looked at him. He was already shutting it all down. Just like Natasha did. “You did good.” Maybe he didn’t know that. “You took her up there and you knew it could be bad and you’re both hurting, but she’s still here and you brought her back.”

A faint smile touched his lips. “Thanks, Steve. I just wish…” He didn’t have to say it. They both did. “Wakanda.”

Bucky met his gaze and Steve said, “How do we do it?”

“We back her play, the only thing we can do.” But he didn’t sound happy about it. “It’s her mind and her memories. She has a right to get them back.” And he’d wage war to get her there.

“I have her back and yours.” Even if he hated the idea of her getting hurt, she wasn’t doing it on her own. Not if they had anything to say about it.

He gave Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze and then they started hauling the gear out of the SUV.

“You left some of it up there?”

“Yeah, not the expensive stuff.” He motioned to the portable heater. Before he hauled it out.

The ramp dropped and Steve caught sight of Natasha setting down her coffee cup, she was about to head down when Clint waved her back and then Tony. They trailed down to help offload. It only took a couple of trips between the four of them to empty out the SUV and get their gear and clothes stored.

Tony caught his eye and then nodded to her with a questioning raise of his eyebrows. Steve shook his head. Bucky hadn’t given him all the details, but handle with care was not a bad idea.

Once they got everything secured, Tony insisted on food because he would prefer not to fly on an empty stomach. Steve had to bite back a smile because Tony’s dramatics actually pulled a reluctant smile out of Natasha as she rolled her eyes. But she was eating and while Steve was sure Bucky had looked after her, there was something satisfying about seeing her enjoy the pirozhkis and drink her coffee.

Neither she nor Bucky offered much insight into their time at the cabin and none of them asked questions. Though, Tony studied her with thoughtful eyes whenever she wasn’t looking at him. No way she missed the scrutiny. Course, Steve was doing the same damn thing.

“I do have one favor to ask…” Natasha said to Tony and his whole demeanor shifted. Something he could help with? Yes, please.

“What do you need?”

“James and I found some more photos hidden away, but some of them are faded and you can’t even tell what they were—they’re old Polaroids.”

“You want Friday and I to work some magic?” His grin was swift and easy. “No problem. Happy to help. We can scan them now and see what we can do…” He was already standing.

She glanced at Bucky and he nodded. “I’ll get them.”

Steve wanted a task like that, but contented himself with the fact that he could actually see her. When she rose to deal with the cup, she bumped his shoulder gently. She was going to be fine. If his gut would get on board, he’d appreciate it. Some of the apprehension had drained away. Natasha used to tell him he wasn’t paranoid enough, but he could argue against that being the case now.

_“Steve…what if they were altering me all along? What if…What if I’m really not this person? I always said the truth wasn’t all things to all people and neither am I…maybe I’m not even who I thought I was.” For a terrifying moment, all of that gorgeous certainty seemed rocked. Natasha, the most coolly competent woman he’d ever known questioned her own mind._

_“You’re real,” he swore to her. She was. The most real person he’d ever known. Whatever was hidden in her mind, it didn’t change who she was. If anything, it reinforced how good a person she had to have been for them to strip so much away._

He was definitely paranoid now, but that wasn’t what she needed.

_“I can, but remember—you have to be Mr. Positivity. I’m the skeptic.”_

_“What does that make me?” Clint asked._

_“Her family,” Tony told him bluntly. _

Mr. Positivity. He caught her hand on her way back and she gave his fingers a squeeze. The shadows in her eyes were thick, they darkened the beautiful green but they didn’t diminish them.

Bucky pulled some photos out of a box and passed them to Tony carefully. Tony handled them with extreme care. “Baby Girl, heads up. We need to do some detailed scanning—though I might need to take these faded ones back to the lab and put them under the scanner directly, see if we can pull the negative off. At least then we’ve got an image to work with.”

“Thank you,” Bucky told him and Tony glanced up from where he’d moved the photo under brighter light to scan it and met his gaze.

“Happy to help,” he said quietly. “But I have to ask—we get any clues while you were up there?”

“No,” Natasha said quietly. “I found more pieces for the past though.” She gave a small smile. “So that’s something.”

“Good,” Tony answered and earned a faint, but real smile. After there was a heavy silence blanketing them. Not asking what they found was a lot more difficult than Steve would have expected, but this was one area he didn’t intend to pry. Bucky had told him some things, Natasha would likely tell him more.

But for now…

“You up for flying?” Steve asked, even if he’d rather it were any of them and let her get some sleep. The bruises under her eyes made him think she needed it. Then again, she liked to be active. It gave her perspective.

“Depends,” Natasha said slowly. “Who won the poker game?” The fact she had her gaze on Clint and he instantly flipped her off pulled a laugh from all of them and some of the tension bubbling around them eased.

“You still want to head straight to Wakanda?” Clint asked.

“I do—need to call Stephen and T’Challa, firm it up…”

“Back to the Tower first,” Tony said. “We need to get Clint back to the Compound, and I could use a night in my own bed, I’m sure you could all do the same. Sound like a plan?”

The brief flicker of mutiny promised she didn’t want to agree, but she seemed to turn the idea over for a moment before she nodded. “We can do that. I need to talk to Peter before I go anyway.”

Next to him, Bucky blew out a breath and Steve nodded. Clint tracked her movement as she climbed into the pilot’s seat, his expression tight. He wasn’t alone, Tony frowned after her then glanced back at his work. He had all of the photos scanned and passed them all back for now.

“Buckle up boys,” Natasha said. “Lock your trays in an upright position and remember to keep all arms, legs, and armor inside the vehicle at the same time.”

Tony snorted and Steve chuckled. There she was. Buck’s expression eased. _Come on back, Angel. We’re right here._

**Clint**

From the moment they got the heads up that Natasha and Bucky were on the way back, Steve had been on edge. Tony played a good game, but his fidgeting increased and he checked the time and his glasses frequently. Whatever display he had up probably included Natasha’s tracker.

Of the three of them, Clint was the only one who had been to the cabin. It had been hella hard on Bucky that first time. Clint couldn’t imagine it would be much better for Natasha. Still, the lack of a full episode had to be a good sign.

“They’re almost here,” Tony said, a beat before Friday announced they had turned into the airport.

“I’m going out to meet them,” Steve announced before he hit the button to lower the ramp. Tony closed it behind him and then rolled his head from side to side.

Rising, Clint poured the coffee through for a second time. Natasha could have coffee out of the single-cup maker. He searched through the drawer of little single cups Tony had stocked for them and set it out for her.

From the corner of his eye, he tracked Tony up to the cockpit where he moved to lean against the controls. It gave him a semi-decent view. When the hangar doors opened, his attention focused outside.

The moment his shoulders eased and he pushed away from the controls, Clint knew Natasha was out there and appeared in good shape. Granted, the man could track her vitals and her, she’d given them that permission—again. But it wasn’t the same as laying eyes on her.

While Tony didn’t pace, his attention riveted to the ramp even though he had his phone in his hand like he was doing some work. Clint shook his head and pulled out his own phone and fired off a text to Laura.

**Clint:** _They’re back. Will update with ETA and plans as soon as I have them_

**Laura: ** _How are you doing?_

**Clint:** _ Surprisingly not bad after almost three days stuck aboard the quinjet. You?_

**Laura: ** _We’re fine._

**Laura: ** _We miss you._

He smiled.

**Clint:** _Miss you, too. Think I can talk you into a sleepover tonight?_

He kept one eye on Tony.

**Laura: ** _I’m willing to be persuaded. Should I see if Wanda would mind watching the kids?_

Oh. That would be great.

**Clint: ** _Definitely. Soon as I have an ETA you’ll have one. Looking forward to persuading._

“Nat is approaching, Boss. Opening the ramp,” Friday announced. Clint pushed away from the counter and turned to see her walking up the ramp with a backpack. The world weighed on her.

He’d picked her up from ops where she hadn’t looked this tired. Friday was already closing the ramp as Natasha reached him and he pulled her into a hug. She locked her arms around, saying nothing as he held her. Silence, he could deal with—her foundation had been shifted, again. If she needed an anchor, he could definitely give her one.

The elongated moment ended as she stepped back and he caught her by the biceps before she could fully retreat. No immediate tensing at the contact, so he went with it. “Tell me you’re good.”

“I’m shaky,” she admitted. Her shutters were closed and her defenses armed, “But I’ll get to good.”

“All right.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Laura sends her love. Coffee?”

“Please.” She let go of the backpack and set it on the bench carefully, then turned to Tony. “Hey.”

“Hey Red,” he greeted her with an easy grin like he hadn’t been pacing. “You look like crap.”

Clint slotted the cup into place and got the coffee brewing as he shook his head. Her soft snort and even fainter chuckle were a little closer to Natasha. If he had to guess, the emotional toll caught up with her.

“Well, I look better than you,” Natasha murmured.

It was Tony’s turn to snort. “Impossible—except on any day ending in y.”

“Well, I guess today is my lucky day, then.” Despite the attempt at lightness, she didn’t quite manage it.

“C’mere,” Tony replied and then she wrapped her arms around him and let him hold her. He tucked his cheek against her head and met Clint’s gaze evenly. Then he turned slightly and murmured something, his mouth out of view.

Turning back to the coffee, Clint gave them a bit of privacy. When her coffee was ready, he carried the mug over and pressed it into her hands as Tony let her go.

“You sure?” he was asking.

“Yeah,” she said before giving Clint a small smile. “Thank you. Yes, I’m sure, Tony.”

“What are we sure about?”

Natasha said, “I want to go to Wakanda now. We can take you back to the Compound and I think James wants to stop at the Tower at least long enough to shower and pack and I need to call Stephen… you should stay.”

“Uh huh. Just let that last line go, you don’t need the stress of the fight and I don’t feel like kicking you when you’re low. You go. I go. End of discussion.”

Tony nodded. “What he said. Besides, he’s the one who keeps the rest of us sane.”

“Not really in my job description,” Clint reminded him.

“No, but keeping me sane is,” she told him and Clint inclined his head.

“At your service.”

She blew out a shaky breath, then took a sip of the coffee. “I’m done with not knowing. I have to know and I have to know now. If this doesn’t work or it can’t be done. I have to know that, too.”

Clint raked a hand over his head. Natasha had reached her limit. Whatever pieces she’d gotten back were eroding the walls she kept between her and the world, more it was haunting her. She needed to know the answer so she could figure out her next steps—find her daughter or let her go forever because they would never know.

Not a choice he wanted her to have to face.

But here she was, unblinkingly looking it in the eye.

“So we roll the dice,” he said slowly.

“Definitely, because I don’t want you playing cards if it comes down to it.” The faint comment pulled a grin from Tony and then Clint shook his head.

“Nice, insulting my card skills.”

“Either you’ve been holding out on us or you’re suffering from delusions of grandeur,” Tony said. “So which is it?”

Clint grinned and when Tony glanced at Natasha, she just shrugged.

Eyes narrowed, Tony glanced from one to the other. “I’m being played, aren’t I?”

Lifting her coffee cup, Natasha murmured, “I don’t know. You’re a very good poker player.”

Before Tony could retort, Steve and Bucky were heading in with their gear and they all sent Natasha to wait while they offloaded.

After food, they were up in the air and on the way back to the Tower. Clint settled in for the trip. Tony had his StarkPad up, either working on the images he scanned or doing more research. He might even be talking to Shuri or Strange, it was anyone’s bet. Steve and Bucky were both settled back in their seats a million miles away though likely in the same direction.

The heavy pall of grief lay over all of them. Yeah, they needed to brighten the mood up especially with Natasha just focusing on the flying and ignoring everyone. But before he could say anything, Friday chimed in.

“Boss…the call for Assemble was just issued. There’s a problem in L.A.”

Well… that shifted the mood.


	53. Harmonizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Los Angeles is a war zone, but the team drops in to do their job and an old friend makes an appearance.

**Chapter Fifty-Three**

_Harmonizing_

**Natasha**

“Tony, watch your six. These guys brought all the toys.” There were missiles streaking through the air. Where a gang picked up anti-aircraft and heavy weaponry, she didn’t want to know. With only five of them aboard, they’d been forced to split up to tackle their quarry. A gang fight gone ballistic with heavy weaponry—it was a law enforcement nightmare with more than a couple of hundred on either side of the fight ripping through downtown Los Angeles. The only upside—it was a weekend. Of course, that didn’t get tourists out of the danger zone but the cops were on evacuation duty.

With two groups, they’d dropped Steve and James behind the 28th Street Bloods—where did they get their names?—while she and Clint were going after the charmingly labeled Nazi Brotherhood. The Bloods had missiles and what looked like a tank. The Nazis—seriously, she was fighting Nazis again—were armed to the teeth with high-powered rifles, AR-15s, and…

She ducked behind a car as the one twenty feet away exploded.

“Yay, they have grenades.” She checked the magazine on her Glock.

Tony had taken the tougher position of drawing fire from both to buy the LAPD more time. SWAT was out there, too. They had all the guns on the streets and the fact the Avengers had been deployed suggested there was far more to the situation than they’d been briefed on. Still, with more than a dozen fatalities reported and over a hundred wounded, she didn’t much care beyond making these assholes stop.

“Go in three, Nat,” Clint told her, his voice steady. “They’re about to reload.”

That was another thing, these guys wasted a lot of firepower.

“Tank down,” Steve said, the disgust in his voice pulled a smile from her. “Do they really sell tanks on the black market?”

“Now,” Clint chimed in and she was on the move.

“Have to find out,” Tony said. “There’s a dark website and a market for just about everything else.”

The chatter over the comm combined with the adrenaline surge as she abandoned her cover and raced toward the half-dozen guys fighting to get their new magazines loaded buoyed her. The glass walling her off from the world vanished.

She shot two of them, right in the knee. A third went down with an arrow through his shoulder, then a fourth. She caught the final two with a flying tumble that locked her legs on one and her arms around the other. She twisted, slamming them into the ground and letting them cushion her fall. A directed smack of her gun handle against Adolf number one knocked him out and a firm slam of her boot against the other took care of his buddy.

“Ten,” she commented.

“Fifteen,” Clint taunted with a hint of a grin. “You’re getting slow in your old age.”

She flipped him off, trusting his eyes would catch the gesture even from the perch he’d taken.

“That square is clear,” Clint continued almost serenely. “Sweep and then I’ll move.”

Pausing long enough to zip-tie their downed quarry, she pulled a small can of sprayable of a wound sealant to the bleeding men as they groaned. Yeah, it burned. So sad for them. They’d live. Their weapons she stripped and scattered. Not leaving anything loaded behind her. One of them spit at her and she knocked him out. The blow sent a shock up her arm and bruised her knuckles. But it felt good in the same breath.

She needed more of these fights.

“Friday, tell the LAPD these six are in the bag, four wounded, three likely with concussions, zip-tied and gift wrapped.”

“Got it, Nat, tracking more gunfire to your west, sound sensors say easily a dozen weapons or more.”

“Fun, going west, Clint.”

“On my way.”

“Shit!” Tony exclaimed and she snapped her head up in time to see one of those missiles knock him sideways. He tumbled a few feet before he caught himself. “Cap, where the hell is that asshole?”

Another explosion rumbled in the distance and the ground trembled.

“Asshole evacuated,” James stated in a deadpan tone. That earned a sputtering laugh from Tony. “Nice missile launcher,” James continued. “I think I’ll keep it.”

“You do not need a missile launcher,” Steve chastised.

“It’s not about need,” Clint commented.

“No,” James argued. “This is definitely need. It’s pretty. Natalia, did you want a souvenir?”

She chuckled. “Maybe. Though I can’t really cuddle a missile launcher.”

Tony’s snort carried over the lines.

“Focus,” Steve said though there was laughter in his voice.

“Cuddle, huh?” Clint said. “Oh, this is too nice a grouping. You’re about to be behind even more, Nat if you don’t move your ass.”

“Some of us aren’t flying between buildings smart ass.” In fairness, he wasn’t actually flying so much as zip lining, but whatever. She’d rather have him up than down. “Besides, you need all the advantages you can get.” Instead, she jogged between the buildings, staying close to the sides. Urban warfare was tricky because people could come at you from all angles. As much as she shouldn’t admit it, particularly in light of the damage these guys were doing, she craved the next action. It was simple and direct. They were bad guys. They had guns. Put the bad guys down, destroy their guns.

Wash.

Rinse.

Repeat.

Another rumble in the distance and the ground trembled. She paused, but there were no calls of explosions.

“You get lost, Nat?”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “I’m in position.” She’d reached the end of the alley looking over the square. Clint was right, there was a huge gathering and they’d added some friends. The fountains were littered with spent shell casings and far too many bodies. There were a couple of cops and one of them moved, his gaze right on her, but she flattened her hand to the ground and shook her head. He needed to stay still.

He blinked once, but ceased moving.

“Friday, have EMT and SWAT ready, I have visual on at least four downed police officers and at least that many civilians. One of the cops is still alive though, which means the others might be. Gonna clear this square and then we need medical here ASAP.”

The ground rumbled and she frowned. Maybe equipment. The city alternated between loud rumblings, sporadic gunfire and explosions to punch through the silence.

Then again, LA had a metro. Might be more audible in the quiet.

Steve and James were discussing a group they were about to cut through and Tony swore as he took out a couple more of the missile launchers. These guys were irritating him. Their voices were a comfort. A reminder they were fine and she could focus on her job. Steve split them up, pairing her with Clint, while he and James tackled the group with the much bigger toys. He hadn’t liked the idea, neither of them had. Still, she and Clint were just fine. Shaking her head, she pulled her wandering mind back and blocked the sound for a moment as she tracked her targets in the square. The step fountains gave them cover, but they’d also provide her with a path to stay out of direct sight.

“Ringing the bell or knocking?” Clint asked, his voice quiet.

“Picking the lock,” she murmured. “Then knocking.”

“Got it. Ready when you are.”

The fact these gangs—_gangs_!—were this well-armed and entrenched for this fight was something they needed to investigate later. This should not be happening here. But they needed to deal with what was in front of them first.

“Corner pocket, my ten o’clock,” she said quietly. “Picking the lock. Then knocking once I’m there.”

“Go, I have you.”

Natasha sank into the place she needed to be for the fight. Nothing mattered except the mission. She had a series of targets, incapacitate and clear. Clint would keep her back covered. After securing her Glocks, she checked the charge on her bites.

Full tact gear meant she had everything she needed. Her breathing slowed, she tracked her first target. He’d been walking a zigzag pattern. He had no idea how to keep watch. The ass never looked up.

Better for her, he kept throwing looks back to where his people were instead of where people could come from.

Amateurs.

On his next zag, he glanced over his shoulder—predictably—and she sprinted. He turned just as she reached him. Long enough for shock to register in his eyes, but she leapt and sank her bites into both sides of his neck. The first shock sent his muscles rigid, the second knocked him out. She rode him down to the ground, then pulled his gun apart and zip-tied him before she was on to the next. Three more down and zip-tied and she was almost to the corner pocket.

“Hold,” Clint ordered and she kept position at the edge of the fountain, crouched below eye line. “Target approaching from your three o’clock. Big dude. You want me to take him?”

She rolled her eyes. They were all big dudes compared to her. But she had two more targets before she was in the corner she wanted to be in when Clint started raining arrows down on them. The guy was too close for her to risk saying anything, so she hand-signed that she had him.

“He’s on you in five—four—three—two—”

The shadow passed over her and he made it two more steps before he registered her in his periphery, but she was already moving. She slammed a fist right into his crotch and went up, one foot on his knee and the next driving into his solar plexus. The air left him in a rush as she drove the bites in and he shuddered, it took almost twice as much as her previous targets, but he went down like deadwood and she surfed him to the ground.

“Sweet…” Clint exhaled. “Ten points for clean.”

She grinned, secured the guy, stripped the weapons and then moved again. Two more and she was in her corner. Her knuckles protested and her muscles let her know she’d not been training as much, but she socked it all away. Pain could be compartmentalized—this pain anyway.

Rolling her head from side to side, she stayed low. She was almost to the downed cop. Three more guys between her and him.

“Make it rain.”

“My pleasure.” Clint’s voice steadied and then arrows began to sail downward. Five targets went down before they even realized what was happening. Natasha surged forward. She didn’t want any stray gunfire, she got the first guy with her bites, the second with a series of well-place punches and kicks, and the third, however, caught sight of her and his gun was up.

She jerked to the side as he fired. Two slammed right into her vest. The shield popped around her, blocking the next two, which was good because the combination of shots knocked the wind right out of her. The guy rushed toward her and she forced herself up.

“Nat…” Clint’s tone was a warning.

“I got him,” she wheezed, catching the guy’s arm on the downswing. She wrenched it into a lock then swung him, using his momentum right into the side of the building. He went down with a crunch and she pressed a hand to her chest. Fuck that hurt. The bullets were still a little hot as she pulled them out of the vest.

Steve would be so proud.

“She’s fine, Steve. Guy’s already down,” Clint was saying.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she added. She made it to the cop and got her fingers on his pulse. The few left in the square were targeting upwards and not paying any attention to her. She had a pulse. Flipping the guy carefully, she located the bleeding wound and pulled packing out of her belt and got it into place. Securing it with her hand before ripping the self-adhesive to lock it down. It foamed to seal the air from around it and creating a solid lock. It also spread a coagulant to help stymie the bleeding.

Movement to her right had her pulling the Glock and she leaned away from the cop and fired. Knee shot. The guy with the AR-15 let out a yowl as he went down, but he managed to hold onto his gun.

Huh. Even amateurs got lucky. Her next shot went through his shoulder and an arrow went through the other.

She winced.

That was gonna leave a mark.

Back to the cop, she checked his pulse. “Definitely a live one, we clear for EMT?”

“Almost,” Clint told her.

“Sorry,” Natasha murmured to the guy. “Moving you.”

She grabbed his shoulders and hauled him. He was weighted down in gear, but she got him behind one of the fountains. The guy opened his eyes as the ground rumbled again and this time it was louder.

“What the hell is that?” Shaking her head, she said, “Rest easy. EMTs on the way. Going to check on your buddies.”

The cop clutched her hand. “Be careful,” he wheezed. “They were waiting for you.”

They were what? She frowned, then scanned the area. Waiting for her? The Avengers? Or for first responders? It was more likely the latter, then again, these gangs had way more powerful weapons than they should be able to get their hands on.

“I’ll be careful,” she told him. “Stay low. Let me get to your guys.”

He nodded, his breath coming in shallow pants.

“Clint we need to light a fire on this. I don’t want this guy to bleed out cause we’re slow.”

“Yeah, yeah. Almost done—you could help.”

She smirked. “Thought you were in the lead.”

“Oh, I’m still in the lead, but you have that Florence Nightingale going on. Don’t want to mess with your rhythm.”

Chuckling, she jogged toward the next downed cop, pausing only long enough to strip a couple more weapons. The next cop was dead and it sobered her humor. He’d taken a shot right through the throat. He’d likely been dead before she even reached the square. The next one was in the same condition, though his was from a wound to his femoral.

Two dead civilians, a third was bleeding. The crease across his skull was messy and there was a lot of blood, but it hadn’t gone in. She got a pressure pack on it.

“Nat…” Clint’s warning had her twisting and she had a blade out of her boot and sailing through the air. It slammed right into his throat and he went down. She’d been trying to minimize loss of life, but these guys hadn’t bothered. Prioritizing civilians over Nazis, even these wannabe freaks was not even a question.

The irritation swimming up under her skin had no place on the battlefield, but she got the seal pack on the head wound. “I’ve got another live one here.” The fourth cop turned his—no wait, _her _head as Natasha said that and the cop stretched out her hand toward Natasha. “Hang on,” Natasha told her.

“We’re clear,” Clint announced. “Friday get EMTs in there and SWAT on their to secure the prisoners. Status check?”

“We’ve almost got these guys locked down,” Steve said. “This is ridiculous, civilians do not need so much heavy weaponry.”

“Agreed,” Tony said. “I’m doing a sweep, to try and scoop up any fleeing rats.”

“Natalia—you and Clint clear?” James’ voice warmed her as she knelt next to the cop. The woman’s eyes were troubled. Probably in pain.

“We’re—” The woman was wired and she had a bloody smile. The cop’s eyes held hers and Natasha’s breathing slowed. “Friday, armed bomb and detonator… keep the EMTs back.”

Clint’s voice was harsh in her ears.

“Deadman’s switch, too.” She met the woman’s eyes evenly and raised her brows. “What’s your play?”

“I’m coming to you, Red. Friday, engage her shield.”

The hum of her bracelets was right there, but she didn’t rise or move away. They were close enough that this kind of a blast would take out more than just the two of them. That shield might be the one thing that kept the civilian behind her alive.

Hopefully her, too.

The woman laughed, then coughed. The deadman’s switch she clutched in her hand was standard build. “I was waiting for you.”

“Well, you have my attention. Though honestly, there are better ways of getting it.”

The sound of Clint’s breathing in her ear reminded her he was up there, but it sounded like he was on the move. The whine of Tony’s repulsors drew closer.

The woman’s gaze cut toward the sound of it. Yeah, she wanted more Avengers here for her little show. “Good, he can watch… this is for the…” Natasha had a grip on her hand over the detonator, and she exerted pressure, holding it down. The woman let out a snarl and Natasha slammed a blade right through her wrist, impaling it as she screamed.

“Sorry, I have an appointment and getting blown up has grown old.”

Tony landed with a thunk. “Hey Red, making friends and stabbing people I see.”

“I was bored and we’re having a disagreement on fashion choices.” She had the woman’s other hand pinned. The fact she was dressed like a cop and sporting a suicide vest was a fact to be filed away. Somehow, she’d also caught a bullet, not that Natasha had much sympathy for her. “Can you relocate the wounded in case she gets any ideas?”

“You got that?” Tony checked and they were both ignoring the woman’s heated glares and weakening struggles. Natasha was pretty sure she’d broken two of the woman’s fingers.

“Yes, no worries, I have categorically won this thumb war.” She kept her attention on the woman’s pained expression. Maybe they’d get lucky and she’d pass out. They still need to disarm the bomb.

“I’ve got Red, bomb is under control for the moment,” Tony announced and while Steve and James hadn’t been saying anything, she was aware they’d been listening. “Have EMTs meet me at the edge.”

“Got one,” Clint said and they moved to evacuate the living. Natasha kept her gaze on the woman.

“I’m not going to answer your questions,” she snarled, spit flying.

“Okay,” Natasha acknowledged with a nod. She studied the wiring from the switch to that went up the woman’s sleeve and likely along her torso to the bombs.

“Hey Red,” Tony was back. “Mind if I get in there to take a look?” He put a hand on the woman’s right arm allowing Natasha to shift her weight and she kept her grip on the deadman’s switch.

With Tony’s arrival, the “cop” tried to struggle and she lashed out with a foot and Natasha slammed her elbow into the woman’s thigh. The blow would be excruciating as it pinched a nerve.

“Feisty,” Tony said as he reached over to check the same wires, she’d just been looking at. “Let’s take a look at this present.”

They got her shirt open and Natasha blew out a breath.

“Okay—that’s not pretty.”

The woman let out a groan. “If I’m going to die with you, could you please shut up?” She glared at Tony.

“Hush, the adults are talking.” Tony frowned. “Have you seen one like this?”

Wires crisscrossed her torso, they were all white and it looked more like netting. Redundancies built into redundancies. Even if they pulled the wires on the switch, she’d already armed the circuits. One spark… and that was plenty of C-4 to take them and a good portion of the square.

“Water.”

She split her attention to him and then they both looked at the fountain.

Tony nodded. “Water.”

“Bomb squad is on the way, Boss. SWAT commander wants to talk to you.”

“Tell him we’re a bit busy, Friday and to keep this square evacuated. Clint, that means you, too.” Tony gripped her right arm and Natasha pulled her left while keeping the deadman’s switch contained.

“Yeah, I think I’ll keep my position and watch your backs while you two disarm the trap.”

Natasha caught him from the corner of her eye. He was across the square, but his bow was out and his gaze searching. “He has a point,” she told Tony.

“Just be ready to take cover, not sure I can pull Red and get to you in time,” Tony said and they hauled the woman over into the fountain. She screamed and tried to thrash.

Trusting Tony’s grip, Natasha drew back her right fist and popped her. The blow stilled her struggles and she went limp.

“Oh that’s much better,” Tony said with a grin and they dumped her in the water. “Keep her head up while I try to break the circuit.”

Natasha nodded. The water came up to her thighs and she braced the woman and her hand while Tony’s helmet snapped closed and he descended into the water.

Natasha kept her breathing even.

“We’re clear here and they’re locked down. We’ve got two runners, but the cops have them. Status check,” Steve said.

“Tony and Nat are trying to disarm the suicide vest while they play in the fountain,” Clint said drily. “We’ve got this side buttoned down. SWAT is still clearing the buildings around us. But headcount matches what we got when we came in.”

“Coming to you,” James said. The ground rumbled again and it wasn’t just the ground, the water sloshed and the trembling increased—this wasn’t just a short rumble.

“Earthquake? Friday?”

“Not a standard one, Boss—reading is just 5.5 but it’s epicenter is closer to you than the last one.”

Tony’s head popped out of the water.

“The epicenter _moved?_” Natasha clarified.

“And it’s still moving.”

“What direction?” Steve asked and the water around them was shuddering and she had to shift her balance to compensate for the ground displacement.

“Boss—its heading straight for you.”

A water main burst on the far side of the square, a water pipe spewed upward in an arch and the ground shook harder. Like something was crashing against it. The water sloshed out of the fountain and they still had a live bomb attached to this woman.

“No pressure. Tony, we have to get this thing off her.”

“Yeah—what the hell is that? Get me a scan now, Friday. Clint watch yourself.”

“Take care of you two,” Clint retorted, but he had the bow up and armed. The shuddering around them increased and then just as abruptly stopped.

Natasha wasn’t sure what was eerier, the slamming or the silence.

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Tony said and his hands flew. “Okay, Red, trade me, I need your hands.”

He covered hers on the switch and she surrendered her grip for his. The hand-off was smooth.

“It’s wired against her skin. We need to break those and then we can pull the circuit.” Natasha pulled wire cutters from her pocket and sucked in three deep breaths of air and sunk below. Just let the earthquakes stop long enough to get this done. The water was murkier, but she could make out the netting against the cop’s skin and it was close, Natasha got her hand under it and then worked loose the first wire and snipped it.

No boom.

Excellent.

She got the second one. Then worked her way to the third, shifting around in the water. Bracing against Tony’s leg to keep from floating upward, she worked her fingers through the narrow space and hooked the wire, then cut it.

Three down, one to go.

The water began to agitate and the cement beneath her feet cracked as it trembled. She slipped twice and couldn’t swear because she didn’t dare inhale water even as her lungs protested the lack. One more wire, they had to disarm this damn thing before it actually did blow up in their faces.

_Come on…_

_There._

She snipped the wire.

The whole net came away from her torso and Natasha peeled it away and then they freed the switch and she pushed up from the water panting. Across the square, she caught sight of James and Steve, they were both giving her the same look.

Yeah, like she planned a bomb. She unwound the rest of it and set it aside carefully as Tony hauled the woman out of the water. The ground shuddered again and the cement between two of the fountains cracked and pushed upward.

“What the hell?” Clint said.

Another slam and everything around them trembled and shook as it pounded and finally one of the cement blocks between the fountains exploded upward and showered them with rubble and dust. Something huge and green launched through the opening and landed with a crash three feet away.

“Oh. Shit,” Clint’s words were nearly drowned out as The Other Guy glared right at them and roared. His muscles bunched and rolled as she bellowed at them and then he panted, the rage in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

“Oh, hey Bruce…” Tony said slowly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Buck, don’t,” Steve said his tone sharp and Natasha didn’t turn away to check what he’d attempted. There was no recognition in The Other Guy’s eyes. At least not yet.

“Hey Buddy,” Tony tried again taking a step forward, he snapped up the faceplate on his helmet. “We’re all good here, thanks for showing up. But we can go get lunch now—or dinner. You like dinner, right?”

“Tony,” Natasha warned quietly, because those fists were closing and The Other Guy snapped his attention to her. Yeah… the last time they saw each other; he took a hell of a lot of fire for her. “Hey Big Guy,” she said quietly, keeping her tone low and even. He harrumphed a noise and stomped a foot.

Only history kept her from flinching. He wasn’t moving, just agitated. Maybe a little confused.

“Long time,” she said, then pulled off her gloves slowly as she walked across the fountain toward him.

“Red…” The warning in Tony’s voice pulled The Other Guy’s attention.

“We’re fine, aren’t we?” She kept it at that soothing note and when she took another step forward, The Other Guy zeroed in on her. It was easy to forget how he towered over all of them, even Thor, and that he had fists easily the size of Steve’s shield.

“Friday, gear Veronica up for deployment and get her on the way.”

“You got it, Boss.”

The Other Guy took a step toward as she reached the edge of the fountain. “The sun’s getting real low,” she murmured and he had to lean closer to hear her. She held out her bare hand and he looked from her to it. Come on, Big Guy. Remember.

He reached his hand out carefully toward hers, just as the roughness of his skin brushed her palm a whining sound reached her.

“Shit,” Tony swore. “Red.”

The blast hit The Other Guy in the back and he roared and slapped his hand out toward her. The shield lit up, repulsing him and sending her backward at the same time. The armor deployed, suiting her up even as she tumbled and she rolled over as she landed to see The Other Guy getting hit by fire from…

“Dammit,” Tony said. “Hold your damn fire.”

Steve caught her arm and pulled her up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She squeezed his hand. “We need to pull him away from—“

The Other Guy did a hand sweep and knocked the SWAT guys who’d opened fire on him away. He roared and when Tony got too close, he knocked Tony back and into the building.

“Veronica is on her way, Boss.” The cage slammed down around The Other Guy.

“That’s just gonna piss him off more,” Clint said.

“No shit,” Tony retorted. “We gotta get him out of the city.”

“Let me try again.”

Steve frowned.

“He was listening. And the armor works—thanks, Tony.” The hit was gonna leave a bruise, but she already had a couple from getting shot. This wasn’t as bad as it could be.

No where near as bad as it could be. Those cops probably had broken bones or worse.

Veronica was snapping into place around Tony, redoubling his armor until he was nearly on par with Bruce.

“We have to keep the cops and everyone else back.”

Steve’s expression tightened. But he didn’t argue with her. “We’ll take care of that. If he won’t listen, you get clear and let Tony deal with him.”

“I got this,” she said, then pushed away from them and James’ expression was thunderous but Steve had him by the arm.

“She’s right, Bucky. He listens to her. He was just now. We just gotta let him calm down.”

She couldn’t focus on them right now. She needed all of her attention on Bruce as he burst out of the ground next to the steel containment.

“Really gotta fix that,” Tony swore. The containment locked him down, but not under. The Other Guy seized one of the huge concrete planters and threw it at Tony. “Hey now, Bruce, you’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“Don’t antagonize him, Tony.” She strode toward him, the blood in her veins went to ice. Nothing about Bruce was something she could contain, condition, yes. And she’d done that. Helped him condition a trigger to calm The Other Guy. One of the few times her history really proved beneficial.

The armor had helped, but one on one, she was the bug on the windshield where The Other Guy was concerned.

“He started it,” Tony said, but he was hovering back and keeping his distance. While she didn’t dare look, hopefully, Steve, James, and Clint had as well. They needed to diminish their threat profile.

“Hey Big Guy,” she called and he roared at her. “I know, those things suck and they hurt a lot when they hit.”

Another grumbling noise and he stomped a few steps away and kicked one of the round planters up and toward the building. The crash of glass was going to cost them.

“Puts me in a bad mood, too.”

The Other Guy paced back toward her, his expression wary and mistrusting. He’d listened before and gotten hurt. She understood that.

But she kept moving right toward him and climbed the steps until she walked along the lip of a fountain, it made her a little taller. “Are you hurt?”

The Other Guy swayed and shook his head, then slammed his fist against his chest a couple of times.

“Good. Now, can you hear me?”

He paced away and then back, his shoulders heaving. He snapped a look past her to where Tony had to be.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s just happy to have you back. We all are… been a while.”

Another stomp.

“But the sun’s getting real low,” she keyed him again, hopefully, the earlier hits from earlier didn’t cost them now. Kneeling slowly, she held out her hand again and he closed the distance almost reluctantly, his expression that of recalcitrance. Finally, he settled his huge hand against hers, palm down at first, and it was as rough and harsh as she remembered. The thickened skin was tougher than most metals. It was nearly impossible to make him bleed in this form.

His eyes fixed on her as he turned his hand slowly, the back of his hand to her palm. She smiled and then pulled her hand from under his and touched her fingers lightly to the trigger points at his wrist and then his palm. All the while she took long, deep, breaths.

The Other Guy sagged a little as his breathing steadied and she brushed his palm once more and he staggered away from her as she stood. Something like a crack echoed through the square as Bruce began to shudder the green slipping. But a hammer struck a blow against her and the world sparked around her as she staggered. The second one ballooned against her chest. A third landed in rapid succession.

There was swearing somewhere as she stumbled backwards the force knocking her off balance. The pain was blinding and she could see nothing but sparkles. A roar punched through the air.

Fuck.

She tried to stay on her feet even as she slipped and another blow, this one felt like it tried to cave in her skull and the sparkles exploded outward. A tumble off the lip and into the fountain… the water around her fountained upward along with plumes of concrete dust. Then the sun blotted out to be replaced by something huge and green. The sounded was deafening and she fought to keep her eyes open. She was sinking in the water and her arms and legs weren’t moving.

Just as the water closed over her face, something scooped her out of the water. Fuck the light blinded her as it cut through her skull. Why the hell couldn’t she move? What hit her?

The Other Guy stared down at her but his eyes were bleeding brown rather than green. _Hey Bruce…_ the words hovered on her tongue.

He staggered a little and she bobbed but then she was on the ground and there were pounding feet rushing in her direction as he stumbled away.

“Don’t move, Red,” Tony was there, still in his full Veronica armor.

Yeah, not moving wouldn’t be a problem. The thundering in her skull increased and when she blinked the Veronica armor had vanished and Tony was staring at her, his mask up.

“You okay to do this?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce’s voice shook. “Did I do this to her?”

“No, Steve and Bucky got the son of a bitch, they’re on their way back. We need to move her.”

“No, we gotta clear her c-spine and I need to know if any of those bullets landed.” Bruce’s voice was ragged, nervous.

Bullets? Oh.

That would explain the hammer.

“Hey Nat,” Bruce said, meeting her gaze. She tried to say hello. Wasn’t happening. Her head hurt, she wanted to close her eyes again. “I’m going to check your skull okay.”

Sure. Why not?

What the hell hit her again? Right. Bullets.

Guess the shield wasn’t totally bulletproof.

Something moved against her skull and Bruce swore.

“What?” Came three voices at once.

Oh, there they were. Clint was on the ground next to her and James appeared in her line of sight. Steve inches behind him. Tony’s expression pinched.

“Her skull is softer here…”

That was bad.

“I think it’s cracked.”

That was worse.

“Nat… I’m sorry this might…”

She had no idea what it might do, she blacked out.

**Stephen**

He set the book aside and rose. It was a quiet afternoon and he’d been reviewing another casebook on brain injuries. The detailed accounts had grown over the last decade and a half with a rise in traumatic brain injuries from battlegrounds all over the world. Still, the literature and research remained thin in terms of correcting the issues. Long-term treatment and monitoring in addition to lifestyle changes were often necessary.

Everything from the inability to translate short-term to long-term memory storage to issues with tremors and more… no two TBIs were exactly alike making each patient’s treatment require specificity. On the one hand, it allowed for more personalized medicine while on the other it meant what worked for one patient did not work for another.

Surgical options were fewer and farther between because the brain did not self-repair as easily as say another organ, skin, or tissue from damage. Normal brains didn’t—fortunately the brain he was concerned with currently was not a normal brain.

Flexing his hands, he stretched them. The discomfort in them was a familiar companion these days. While he’d grown used to the occasional cramping, long hours spent on any kind of delicate work—including turning pages in a book—could lead to stiffness. Fortunately, he could do most of that with a little magical assistance.

In the kitchen, he prepared some tea and walked through the procedure in his mind. Each step would be carefully monitored. Shuri, though irritatingly young and enthusiastic, also seemed technically competent with regard to the tools they would need and she had a neurosurgeon of her own there who would be joining them.

The trickiest part was anticipating what could go wrong…

The cloak hurried to him and tapped his shoulder. He frowned, but carried his tea as he followed the cloak’s beckoning to the solarium—where Wong had left the television on. It was a breaking news story from Los Angeles…

Strange put the teacup down and reached for his sling ring. The cloak wrapped around him and he called up the portal focusing on where his patient was currently collapsed on the camera.

Stark looked up from where he knelt next to her and another man—Dr. Banner. That was a face he’d really hoped to not run into. The doctor was fine, but Stephen was not altogether certain about his other aspect considering he was in that news story.

“I was just going to call you,” Captain Rogers said, phone in his hand. “She took several hits.”

“So I saw on the news.” He crossed to where she lay unconscious, removing the sling ring out of habit.

Barnes and Barton both surrendered their place to him, but they moved with a kind of rigid posture.

“You’re also being monitored,” he warned them with a gesture toward the sky.

“Friday, blackout those cameras.”

“Taking care of it, Boss.”

“Cracked skull,” Banner said. “Whatever shot at her…”

“High-powered rifle,” Barnes stated. “.50 caliber.”

Stephen stared at him. “Seriously?”

A single nod.

“The shield worked, but…” Stark shook his head.

“Force is still force even if it didn’t break the skin.” With care, he moved his hands over her scalp, there, definite movement of the bone and he kept the pressure minimal. This was exactly why he’d wanted her to stay out of combat situations. To minimize the chance for head injuries. In her current state…

“Friday is bringing the quinjet so we can get her on a backboard to get her out of here.”

Stephen only half-listened. Dr. Banner wore nothing, save for some kind of jacket to cover his bare-ass. “You might want to get Dr. Banner some clothes.”

“We cleared her c-spine but the suit’s formed a collar just in case.” Stark was still talking. That was fine, it was useful information.

Checking her pulse, Stephen did a count. It was threadier than it should be. Shock was a real problem here. “How long since the initial injury?”

“Eight minutes,” Barnes answered him in a snap. Pants flew past him and slapped against Dr. Banner’s chest.

“Put those on,” Barton said.

“They have blood—” Banner started to argue, then said, “Yeah, fine, I’ll put them on. Look, we can’t keep her on the street.”

“I’m aware Dr. Banner, but I need to know how long since she lost consciousness or has she been out the whole time?”

“Three minutes, her eyes were open—but she wasn’t saying anything or moving.” Captain Rogers’ voice was stiff and unyielding. “We need to decide where we’re taking her.”

“No,” Stephen told him. “You don’t. We need to take her to Wakanda but for that, Mr. Barton I need your permission.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re her medical proxy according to the last conversation she and I had and I need a decision now.” He eased his hands off of her without jostling.

“That’s a long flight…” Clint began.

“We won’t be flying,” Stephen said. “Captain Rogers, if you will reach out to them and get me a photograph of where they want me to bring her through, I need an image to focus on.”

“You’re taking her via portal,” Stark clarified and Stephen nodded at him.

“She needs to be seen now, there could be brain bleeds from that force. Her brain is definitely bruised and the skull fractures need to be protected so they can heal. But we don’t have time to waste.”

“Steve?”

“She’s sending one. Clint—call Laura and the others.”

“Friday’s informed them,” Stark swore. “I need to call Peter.”

“He knows, Boss. Karen and he are on the way to the Tower. Should I have Vision and the others pick him up? He wants to meet you there.”

Stephen glanced from where his cloak was actually wrapped around Natasha’s hand to the others. The edge of the cloak’s collar tapped him. Yeah, he agreed. “Tell him to wait at the Tower, Penthouse. I’ll send a portal for him.”

Based on what he’d observed, it would matter to Natasha.

“Thank you,” Stark said.

“Got it,” Captain Rogers crouched and showed him the image on his phone. Stephen studied it, memorizing the lines and the pieces that stood out. The circle inlaid on the floor with unfamiliar lettering etched into was a good focal point.

“Help her,” Stephen murmured to the cloak.

“Hel—?” Rogers asked, then paused as the cloak slid off of Stephen and wrapped around Natasha, including supporting her head. As Stephen stood, he slid his sling ring back into place. All four of the men standing in a loose circle wore similarly grave expressions, but Dr. Banner stepped back uneasily.

“Who is going and who is staying?” Stephen asked.

“We’re all going,” Stark said. “Friday can take the quinjet back.”

“Tony—I don’t think me going…”

“You’re going, Brucie. It’ll be fine. Science vacation, then we can have a little talk about what you’ve been up to—but you’re coming.”

“Tony’s right, Bruce. She went to a lot of trouble to wake you up… be nice if you were there to help them.” Captain Rogers’ tone said he wasn’t asking, but it lacked any harshness.

“I don’t care if he comes or goes, let’s get her help,” Sergeant Barnes snapped.

“We will, man.” Barton had a hand on his shoulder but the other man shook him off.

Stephen didn’t have time to sort this out; he focused on the image and called up the portal. It took a moment to make the connection. As it blazed to life, Shuri stepped to the side and leaned over to look and her smile was both curious and entertained.

“Cool.” But her expression sobered as the cloak carried Natasha through without waiting for them. Barnes and Rogers were in lock step right behind her.

They really didn’t have time for an argument.

~~~

_Elsewhere_

“You idiot,” the man snarled into the phone. “What was that?”

“Taking the shot was the right thing to do…”

“You have compromised everything. The shots were only to hit the monster,” the man’s fury echoed down the line. “If they question the shooter…”

“The shooter is dead. Rogers and Barnes took him out. There’s nothing to trace him back to us.”

“Except _now_ they have Banner.”

“I wanted him back in the open.”

“You stupid, obsessed old man. You should have listened to me…”

“You were taking too much time.”

Silence.

“And she’s dead, that’s one less problem…”

“She’s not dead,” the first man said, his accent thickening. “She is much harder to kill than you realize and she is well-defended. No, you’ve just tipped our hand and given them another weapon. Do not call me again.”

“What?”

“Our partnership is at an end. When they come for you—and they will—remember, you decided to rush.”

The line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, the other shoe has dropped. Trust me.


	54. Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Wakanda, Tony, Shuri, and Strange make some decisions.

**Chapter Fifty-Four**

_Wounds_

**Tony**

Nothing went the way it was supposed to. Nothing. They should never have been called in for a gang fight. Fine, the gangs were armed to the teeth, but he could have sent in the Legion. Why hadn’t he called in the legion?

Because he’d been eager for the fight. Eager for a clear line between what he could do and what he would do. Eager to dish out some hurt on people who deserved it and spare the innocents who didn’t.

The numbers were coming in—casualties. The numbers were high, but outside of the SWAT team, the majority of casualties occurred before they arrived with the exception of one side taking out the other.

Tony could care less about those idiots killing each other. Of the wounded SWAT team, two were in critical condition. Friday would keep him updated. She was also tunneling into the systems here, tracking any and all updates on Natasha.

From the moment they arrived in Wakanda, the doctor and Shuri had whisked Natasha away. Bucky had been right behind her. They all had, but the doctors wanted them out of the operating room. Bucky refused. It took Steve, T’Challa, and Clint to persuade him, but when the man looked at him. Tony understood what he was asking.

So Tony stayed.

He scrubbed off the sweat and donned the surgical gown and stood in the back, arms folded, his gaze fixed on the monitors. The gratitude in Steve’s eyes had been eclipsed by the worry.

How the fuck had this happened?

Shuri was present, but like him, she had taken a step back while the two doctors worked to stabilize Natasha. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the cracked skull that was the greatest concern.

Shock.

They had her legs elevated, an oxygen mask on her and in Tony’s pocket was her ring and Steve’s dog tags. He’d refused to remove the bracelets unless absolutely required. They were monitoring her vitals. When the doc’s cloak wouldn’t leave her either, they didn’t argue.

They’d replaced the armor with a real collar to keep her head stabilized and they’d x-rayed the damage to her skull. Multiple lines radiated out from a central wound. The shield should have protected her.

It was supposed to.

The heavy round hadn’t broken the shield, but it had delivered force. While her suit repelled the kinetic force and pushed her and the person hitting her away, the shield absorbed, dampening it. But the simple fact was, she’d been hit multiple times.

Without the shield, the first shot would have taken her.

Direct hit.

A headache surged behind his eyes and he scowled.

Her vitals beeped on the screen near where she lay, pale and still. Aggravation raked through him and he glanced toward the door leading to the waiting area then back. Bruce had better fucking be out there when this was done. He wanted to know where Dr. Banner had been.

Why he decided to show up _now_ of all things.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tony focused on the conversation between the doctors. Strange supervised, his hands too shaky for the delicate work, but the Wakandan surgeon seemed more than hella competent.

“They are worried about swelling in her brain,” Shuri said. “Will her serum counteract it in time or should they consider removing part of the skull cap?” Her tone took on a distinctly disapproving note on the last.

The very concept made him ill.

“She had swelling before, after a violent fall—” While in his suit. “The swelling reduced without the need for burr holes.”

“How long did it take?” Strange asked.

He sighed. “Twelve—fifteen hours. There was spinal cord damage where she was nicked with a bullet. Had to repair that.” They kept her down for two days, unconscious while she healed. It was a miracle she hadn’t been paralyzed. Though he would argue the brain trauma might be what had begun the break down of the scar tissue. It was only a few weeks later that she’d had her first nosebleed.

Strange nodded. “I’m aware, she has repaired that damage beautifully.” His expression didn’t change—or at least his eyes didn’t—as he studied her then the screens. “We’re at four hours. Start the clock. Monitor the swelling, if it increases in the next two hours, we'll revisit burr holes or similar methods…”

“We don’t need to do that,” Shuri said, stepping forward. Though she’d maintained quiet when the doctors started, she nodded to her surgeon. “We can inject a small amount of vibranium.” She opened a screen over Natasha and it pulled up a full scan of her brain and her skull. “Here and here—there are fractures, the vibranium will fill in these gaps, allowing the bone to knit cleanly—between it and her system, she should be healed in a few days if not sooner.”

“And it can reduce the swelling in her brain?” Strange sounded skeptical and Tony couldn’t say he disagreed with him.

“Of course it can, to drill into the bone or to shave away the skull cap would be barbaric when we don’t have to do this.”

Tugging her facemask down, Shuri beckoned to him and Tony narrowed the distance. He loathed seeing Natasha on the table in a surgical suite, even one as nice as this. The scent of cleaners and the metal fixtures would probably send her into a panic attack.

“My question is this—Ms. Romanoff made a request to help repair the damaged sections of her brain. Here, here, and here.” She widened the view, giving them a clean, nearly perfect scan. The quality impressed Tony and he made a mental note, but left it in the bucket for now. The subject of the scan was far more important than the technology itself. “Since she is already here and there is additional trauma, we might consider performing the procedure to encourage the breakdown and reformation of those critical areas. The injections from the vibranium can assist with her serum.”

“You think,” Strange interjected. “You believe. You are basing this on what, precisely? Did you treat Sergeant Barnes with vibranium?”

“Well, no, his injuries were severe, but the treatments we did were more conditional. His own serum, left unhampered by triggers and conditioning, allowed him to heal.”

Tony’s stomach clenched.

“Two micro-procedures stimulated his cerebral cortex and hypothalamus, allowing us to create an active dreaming state. Using the key phrases, we programmed an alternative channel for them so that they would not key compliance as he had already experienced. It was an inelegant solution to a very inelegant problem. My understanding though is that he has recovered his memories fully, which suggests the healing his brain was already doing completed.”

“But he was in cryo,” the Wakanda surgeon—fuck Tony couldn’t remember his name, he’d apologize for it later—stated. “Which may have helped to reduce metabolic functions and allow for more localized healing. Though this is all conjecture, none of us understand fully _how_ the serum works because we have been unable to study it in order to see if we can replicate it.”

Impatience creased Shuri’s face. “Replicating it was not the goal. Nor is it now. Ms. Romanoff requested our aid and my brother and I promised it. Therefore, if we decide to do this now, we could engage your device, Mr. Stark then send pulse shocks to the region we wish to activate…”

“We’re not doing any of that until the swelling goes down,” Strange stated in a flat tone. “To encourage further trauma while her body is preoccupied with this one…”

“That is the point,” Shuri stated. “She is already in tremendous pain, though she is unconscious and not suffering from it, we have the opportunity to achieve what she asked for while we’re already treating her. The vibranium will help.”

“I’m not convinced.” Strange looked at him. “You’re the tie-breaker Stark. Your thoughts?”

Was he fucking kidding? Miracle elements? Magical surgeons? A brain injury that should never have happened?

“I don’t know how the vibranium works. I want some assurances her cognitive functions aren’t already compromised and it’s Red’s call, not ours.”

“But she made her call,” Shuri argued. “She was coming here for this treatment…”

“I’m with Strange. Show us how this vibranium works, then we discuss it and after I brief the others.” It wasn’t his call to make. For a moment, he thought the girl would argue, but she didn’t. Instead, she opened a screen and provided a demonstration of the expected behavior. He wasn’t alone in studying the results. Strange asked for an enhancement in three areas. Then he asked about success rates.

“I assure you, we have been quite successful. While I am deeply fascinated by the changes they have undergone, I would not be offering untested alternatives to ease her recovery.” There was just enough genuine insult in her tone and her eyes that Tony believed her.

It would work.

“After she has the injection, will she wake up?”

“It is possible. Particularly given her own resources,” Shuri admitted. “Currently, we have administered an anesthetic, it was one that worked well for Sergeant Barnes, and it should keep her out for as long as we need her to be still. We can taper that off after we see some improvement.”

The cloak touched Tony’s hand and he glanced down. It was wrapped around her hand carefully, not impeding the IV they’d put into place. But it had revealed her fingers, and he brushed his to hers. The gloves impeded real contact and Natasha was not a fan of being touched. Though she’d just begun to recover from that.

Fuck this wasn’t fair.

“We should also consider cryostasis. As with Sergeant Barnes, it can slow her metabolic functions, give her body time to fully heal while concentrating on the damaged areas. With supportive care, it could give us the exact results she is seeking.”

The relentless optimism and cheerfulness grated on his nerves. He got it, she saw possibilities. Maybe they needed someone like that…

“The vibranium injection can help stabilize and reduce the swelling,” the surgeon offered. “Her Royal Highness is correct. That is our first step. We have the shock managed. Her heart rate is steady, her blood pressure is good, there is significant bruising on her fists, arms and chest—all expected from a fight.”

And the fact she’d apparently taken two bullets in her bulletproof chest piece before the shield engaged. They were going to have to tweak that.

“She’s stable,” Strange agreed. “The bleed has slowed, but the pressure remains high.”

“So we do the injection,” the other doctor continued. “Then we make the next steps after you brief her family. Are you the one making the decisions?” He was addressing Tony.

No.

He wasn’t.

She wanted him here and had asked for his help, but the power of that went to Clint. “No, but I’ll brief him.” He blew out a breath. Friday would continue to monitor her, but he didn’t want to leave her alone.

“I will remain with her for now,” the other doctor said. “We’ll give her the injection and I assume Dr. Strange will also be staying.”

“You assume correctly. Talk to Mr. Barton, Mr. Stark. We need a decision so we’re ready to make ours if this works.”

Yeah.

A decision.

Tony glanced to her face. The bruised eyes she’d had when she came back from the cabin had torn at him. There were so many answers she wanted. So many they hadn’t been able to find yet.

“Don’t leave her alone,” he said. “Don’t touch her more than you have to.” He met Strange’s gaze. “If she wakes up…”

“We’ll alert you immediately.”

He nodded. “Do the injection while I’m here.”

From the moment they’d arrived, he’d tracked every single thing they’d done. Steve and Bucky trusted the Wakandans. Tony trusted T’Challa, to a point Natasha was trusting all of them.

When the girl moved toward her, Tony held up a hand. “Once that’s in, it’s nothing you can use to manipulate her in any way?”

“Of course not, it will do its job and when it is complete it will become inert and pass out of her system like any other waste.”

“Unless her serum destroys it,” Strange postulated. “Which is something we may need to keep an eye on.”

“True, but I believe based on the pattern of her healing we’ve observed and that has been documented, the serum will specifically target threats and injuries. This will be assisting in the injuries rather than increasing them. Thus, not a threat.”

Theoretically.

Tony wanted to vomit.

Or a very big drink. A very large glass of scotch and Natasha right there with her vodka and they could talk about absolutely nothing.

“Mr. Stark,” Shuri said eyeing him. “You are concerned. But this is what we do. Let me help her now. Then together, we can help her with the rest.”

Right now, it would speed her already remarkable recovery. That was the final puzzle piece. Considering the circumstances, it fell under emergency care. Strange wanted it limited to a minute dosage and Tony agreed.

Shuri took care of the injection. It was a small amount, as promised and she directed it using a tablet. The material moved through Natasha’s system like a parasite with a mission.

Really not the way of looking at it.

Hybridized nanotech, at least from the looks of it, the fusion of it reacted with her skull as well as bypassed the blood-brain barrier.

“There we go—one mean white Russian shaken, not stirred.” The princess grinned and Tony rolled his eyes. He wasn’t the only one.

Hooking his fingers again with hers again, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Ignoring the others, he murmured, “Beat the odds, Red. Do the impossible. It’s what you excel at.”

Straightening, he gave her hand one last squeeze and then strode out of the room. Two of T’Challa’s warrior women stood just beyond the doors. He paused at the juncture in the halls and concentrated on getting his breathing together.

He had to walk in there and sell this. He had to convince Steve and Bucky she would be fine and give Clint all the details without freaking anyone out. Particularly himself…

Pacing in a slow circle, he raked a hand through his hair.

The pair of guards said nothing to him and for the moment, he ignored them. The news wasn’t bad. But the news wasn’t good either.

She was alive. That counted. They were confident she could recover. That also counted. _But since we’re here anyway, why don’t we just blow the doors wide on the scar tissue and restore everything. She’s already unconscious and needs to heal. Good plan, right?_

“Boss,” Friday said quietly in his ear. “The Committee has reached out with regard to Nat’s condition. They are concerned.”

Fuck the Committee.

“They also want to know if there is anything they can do and would appreciate a call back as soon as possible.”

He’d get to it sometime right around giving a damn o’clock.

“Also, Former Deputy Director Hill has called. She would like a moment and an update. Ms. Carter has also called, she is on her way back immediately as is Mr. Wilson. We have received several…”

“Not now, Baby Girl.”

“There is one call you may want to take, Boss.”

“Who?”

“Ms. Potts.”

Of course she called. She and Natasha were friends.

“Not right now… isn’t she on her vacation or whatever?”

“Yes, but she is currently aboard a flight back to the United States. She wanted to let you know she is going to intercept the press coverage and hoped that I could update her on Nat’s condition.”

“Tell her, no one else. Keep the details thin.”

“Of course, Boss.”

Smoothing a hand over his hair, he blew out a breath and glanced to pair of women standing guard. “Left or right to get to where the others are?”

“To the right,” one answered. “Two doors. Then you will find the rest of your group.”

“Are you here to guard Natasha or the princess?”

“Yes,” the other woman answered.

So. Both.

Cool.

“Thank you.”

They inclined their heads and he slid his hands into his pockets as he made his way down the hall. The dog tags tangled around his fingers along with the ring.

_Red will be fine. Red has the serum. Red and the boys have been active. This place has all the toys and a world-class surgeon came with them. Red will be fine._

By the time he reached the others, he almost had himself convinced.

The last doors slotted open and what quiet hum of conversation there was ceased abruptly. Steve and Bucky were the first to their feet, but Peter crossed the room and Tony had an armful of upset teenager.

“Hey Pete,” Tony said quietly, then patted his back. As much as he wouldn’t admit it aloud, he could use the hug himself.

“Is she okay?” The teen pulled back to stare at him. T’Challa, Wanda, and Clint were also there and they’d all stood one at a time. Everyone’s focus zeroed in on him. Tony took a moment to scan the room. Bruce was still there, just all the way on the other side of it, sitting with his hands clasped together and his gaze watchful and wary.

Good, he’d deal with him in a minute. Gripping Peter’s shoulders, he said, “She’s hurt. Bad—but we’ve seen worse. The skull fractures are treatable and she’s going to mend that no problem. The docs here have some magic vibranium. Always said Red had a hard head, now she can give Cap’s shield a run for its money.”

The faint laughter pointed to his weak attempt at humor.

“There’s some swelling and she’s still unconscious, but Strange and Shuri as well as—sorry, T’Challa, I don’t know the other doctor’s name.”

“Doctor A’dyemi,” T’Challa supplied patiently.

“Thank you, he also agreed with their assessment. So we’re giving it a couple of hours, they’ve got her under with an anesthetic apparently designed for…” He paused and frowned glancing from Steve to Bucky then back.

They were both bleeding.

“Neither will do a damn thing until they find out about Nat,” Clint explained.

“Good, I need to talk to the three of you anyway, so we’ll go look at those now. Pete, stay here and hang out with Wanda. You two should probably get something to eat and rest. We could be here a while. Where’s Vision?”

“He thought he would be better off helping with the cleanup in Los Angeles,” Wanda supplied. “I went to the Tower and came over with Peter. Rhodey is on his way to assist and I believe Sam and Sharon are also on their way back, but I don’t know if it was to LA or New York.”

Fine. They could deal with that later.

“T’Challa, if you don’t mind is there somewhere we can patch these two up and we can have some privacy?”

“Actually yes,” he said. “And I don’t mind, though I would like to be kept in the loop of Ms. Romanoff’s treatment and care. She is here because she asked me for the favor.”

“Makes sense and thank you. Brucie…why don’t you come with us?” He didn’t plan for Bruce to go fucking off somewhere before he got some answers.

“Yeah…” Clint said. “Why doesn’t he not, right now?” His gaze cut to Bucky then back. Bucky’s expression was borderline murder face. Scratch that. It was definitely murder face.

Fine. Bruce was a stranger. He scrubbed a hand against his face.

“I can arrange another suite for Dr. Banner to clean up and rest,” T'Challa offered. “I am sure some peace and quiet would be welcome.”

Bruce fidgeted and wouldn’t quite meet Tony’s gaze. “That would be great, thank you.”

“I’ll find you in a bit,” Tony told him and Bruce finally met his gaze. Self-loathing and worry filled those eyes and he gave Tony a jerky nod.

“Tony…” Peter said turning to him. “I don’t want to be…”

“You’re not being left out, Kid. But there are some things I need to talk to the other adults about. Natasha is going to be fine. You keep that a fixed point in your head. Then you eat and you rest. That is what she would want you to do. So let’s make sure we give her nothing to worry about. I’ll make sure you get to see her.”

Relief swarmed his expression. “I…”

“Pete, I need you to handle this for a little longer while I talk to the guys, okay?”

He nodded.

“We’ll find food,” Wanda said. “I remember where to go.” She held out her hand and Peter glanced at her and then back. “It won’t take long.” At her promise, he nodded and went. T’Challa escorted Bruce next and that left the four of them and two more of T’Challa’s warriors.

“If you’ll come this way,” one of the women said. “I’ll show you where you can treat Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes.”

“Thank you, General,” Steve said.

Okay, awesome more ranks.

They followed her and Clint nudged his shoulder. “Tread lightly.”

Yeah, no shit.

The general guided them to an elevator, then up three levels, down two hallways and Tony tracked landmarks to get back and he doubted he was alone. There were two more guards—though they were dressed differently and male— waiting at the opening of the hallway.

“The suite you will be using was Captain Rogers’ during his previous stay, there are five bedrooms, a common room and a dining area. I will have food sent up. The palace guards are here for your privacy and security, we only ask that you take an escort for security purposes. Your privacy will be respected. There is a second suite on this level, we will make that available for you. Medical supplies, Captain, as you may recall are there and in the bathing rooms. If you require anything specific, simply call down or we could take you to see our doctors.”

“Thank you, General,” Steve managed. “We’ll be fine.”

The woman nodded to all of them and then she stepped out and left them alone. As soon as the doors closed, Bucky pivoted to face him.

“What did you not want to say in front of Peter and Wanda?”

“Let’s get a look at those wounds and clean them up and—” Tony began and Bucky took a step toward him, his face so blank and expressionless except for the quiet, simmering rage in his eyes that it was like being face to face with him in Berlin as he mindlessly tried to escape. Only this time, Tony wasn’t going to budge. “You can glare all you want, I have the details and I’m going to tell you, but you’re bleeding and you’re not getting anywhere inside that medical suite filthy.”

“It doesn’t matter, it will heal.”

“C’mon, man,” Clint said, tapping a chair. “Sit. Lose the armor and let me return the favor, I promise to even ask before I slap the ice pack on it.”

For a moment, Tony thought the man wouldn’t relent so he glanced at Steve. “Might help if we got started with you, Cap.”

“Fine…” Bucky pivoted, undoing his armor and ripping open the jacket. “It’s a flesh wound.”

Clint pulled out the medical supplies and laid them out. It was more than a flesh wound. He had four bullets in him, one that had gotten in under his right arm and clipped along his side. Another in his arm itself, and two more in his sternum. The bullets hadn’t impacted deep, but they’d gone right through the armor.

And they were still in there.

Clint took a look at it and shook his head. “Spare me Russian stoicism and stubborn spies.”

Bucky’s baleful look wasn’t amused.

Picking up the abandoned jacket piece, Tony studied it. The armor was supposed to be bulletproof.

“Armor-piercing,” Steve told him. He slid the shield off his back and let it rest and then began to pull at his own. He had a fair collection of wounds, too. Most of the bleeding had staunched on its own, but they’d already started healing over the bullets.

He’d have to upgrade the armor.

“Why didn’t you—you know what, scratch that, we’ll discuss it another day.” Why didn’t he activate the specialized armor? It didn’t matter at the moment. It was done. “I’m going to have to cut some of these out.”

“I don’t care,” Steve said, pulling over his own chair and sitting on it. Clint motioned to the forceps, razors, and bandages on the counter. “Just tell us about Nat.”

Blowing out a breath, he started at the top. “Fractured skull, closed—means it didn’t break the skin and no bone went into the brain. These are good things.” Emphasizing the positive, he pulled on gloves and then picked up the knife and went to the first bullet in Steve’s shoulder. “Do you want anything before I do this?” Not that much worked.

“No, just keep talking—please.” The last word came out gritted because Tony made the cut through the healing flesh to get to the bullet. Fortunately, their armor had at least slowed it down some or maybe he was pushing the bullets out. Frankly, Tony really didn’t want to focus on that piece at the moment so he filed it away for later.

“There is swelling around the brain, that’s to be expected. The shield prevented the rounds from piercing it or her, but the concussive force wasn’t blunted as much. Efficacy might have been reduced by the rapid-fire and multiple shots. I’ll investigate that later. She has some minor bruises and abrasions from the fight, but otherwise, she’s doing good. Just like I said.” Without the shield, heavy rounds like that would have punched a hole right through her or taken her head clean off. He shuttled that thought away. It didn’t happen.

“Now what part didn’t you say?” Bucky asked through gritted teeth as Clint pulled a bullet out of him. They were creating quite the collection, each time Tony removed one, then flushed the wound clean and used some of the surgical glue to close it. After, he secured a bandage over the wound.

“She was in shock, we stabilized it. They’ve got her sedated to keep her still. Spine is clear, but they want the swelling down in a couple of hours or they were going to do burr holes to relieve the pressure—the vibranium injection should delay if not eliminate the need for it. That’s what Shuri said. It will also fill in the cracks of the fracture and give it support while she heals. I think she’ll be fine, we’ve been down this road before.”

Clint shot him a look, his expression thoughtful, but he nodded and Bucky did as well.

“However, because she was already on her way here and there was a brain bleed…”

Steve jerked to look at him.

“It was already staunching itself,” he assured him. “But her serum is working overtime at the moment, and the vibranium injection they gave her is going to help. Shuri says it will also reduce the swelling. Wonder metal aside, her serum is boosted right now, that’s going to help.” If he repeated it enough, they could all believe it.

Steve’s rigid shoulders didn’t relax and Tony forced himself to be more careful as he removed the bullet right next to his scapula. He didn’t want to cut too deep or risk tearing anything. Super healing or not.

“Shuri has proposed that we set her up for the procedures she was already coming here for.” Despite keeping his voice even, Bucky stiffened and his face went even more expressionless if that was possible.

Definitely murder face.

“Strange is reluctant, but he is willing to revisit it after the swelling has gone down and we can’t do anything with it until then. We all know Red was intent on coming here and doing this…” No matter how much any of them disliked or disagreed with it.

Silence draped them and Clint sighed as he pulled out the last bullet. “They want to do it before she wakes up?”

“More or less, and put her in cryo—it will slow her metabolic functions…”

The chair Steve had cracked into pieces and he stood abruptly.

He swung around to face Tony, hands clenched. “Why?”

“To slow her metabolic functions, buy her more time to heal and to let her serum focus on critical areas.”

“And ice stimulates her healing,” Clint offered and Steve shook his head, though Bucky hadn’t moved a muscle.

Taking the chance, Tony moved to finish bandaging the wound on Steve’s arm before he dragged an unbroken chair over for him to sit in.

“There are two more. Sit.”

Steve scowled at him then sat with a harsh exhale. “So they want to go ahead and set her up for the procedures and put her in cryo—for how long?”

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted. “Shuri seems extraordinarily chipper and confident. Maybe too confident.”

“She helped me,” Bucky admitted through clenched teeth as Clint pulled out the last bullet. Like Tony, he cleaned the wound and bandaged it. “Why doesn’t Strange want to do it?”

“He wants the swelling down and to verify she is in one piece before actively giving her another injury.” Which was what the procedures boiled down to. “And on that, I agree.”

“So in other words, he wants her to wake up in the hospital suite, realize where she is, effectively communicate and then we put her under for another procedure…”

“Initially it wasn’t under, they needed her awake for part of it, but they think they can get around that now.” At least based on what Shuri was suggesting.

“Will she feel it?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t think so, I think the fact they would keep her under, then put her in cryo would essentially negate the pain. But I can’t guarantee it.” He couldn’t guarantee any of it.

Finished with the last one, he taped the final bandage down and then dropped the used tools in the silver pan and stripped off his gloves. Stretching his hands behind his head, he walked away from them.

“How long do we have to make the decision?” Steve’s voice turned quiet and heavy. For the last four days, he’d been dreading something and here they were.

“At least until the swelling comes down, probably until she wakes up.” He pivoted to face them. “Which she is going to do. For once, everything is on our side.”

Bucky snagged his jacket from the floor. “Not everything.” Then he stalked to the doors that apparently lead outside and shoved them open, letting in warm, humid air before slamming them shut again.

“I’ll talk to him…” Steve said.

“No,” Clint said. “Let me give it a shot. Right now, he’s—still raw from the cabin and he’s really got a hate-on for Bruce.”

“Not really a fan of his just showing up myself,” Steve said quietly. “And even as much I dislike this—Bruce didn’t shoot her.”

“Potatoes, potahtoes,” Clint said. “The guy is a threat that he can’t neutralize easily if at all and since I went through this once, I have a good idea what’s going through his head on top of everything else.”

“Clint,” Tony said. “The decision has to be yours unless she wakes up.”

The other man closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Medical proxy.”

“She hasn’t changed it. It’s still you.”

Steve snagged his shirt and jacket off the floor and stalked across the room to a bedroom and vanished inside it.

At least he didn’t slam the door.

“I’ve already got Bucky, Cap’s all yours,” Clint said. “Unless you want to trade.”

Tony snorted. “No, but if you need to tag out, lemme know.”

“Tony?” Clint studied him.

“I don’t know what I’d do. Part of me says rip the Band-Aid off because that’s who she is and what she wanted. But the rest of me loathes making any kind of decision about her for her even when I want to insulate her from the world.”

“More or less,” Clint agreed.

Tony checked his watch. “Friday, status check?” It had been thirty minutes and he’d kept an eye on her vitals, they’d remained constant.

“Swelling has already begun to reduce, Boss. Doctor Strange seems more confident, all other vitals in the normal range. Nat is still unconscious, however, they are not lifting the anesthesia until the swelling has reduced fully.”

“Keep me updated,” he said. “Keep the guys in the loop.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Good luck,” Clint murmured and headed for the door.

“You too,” Tony replied and headed for the open bedroom door. At the door to the bedroom, he knocked once.

“Come in.”

He took a couple of steps in to find Steve exiting the bathroom, he’d changed into clean clothes and a fresh shirt. His face was clean and his hair wet.

“I just needed a minute.”

“I figured,” Tony said, sliding his hands into his pocket and catching the chain of the dog tags against his fingers. “I should give these to you.” He pulled them out, carefully separating them from the ring. “They had to take them off her.”

Steve sighed and extended his hand. “Thanks.”

“She’ll be awake soon, pretty sure she’s going to want those back. Safer if you have them. She won’t break your hand.”

A faint smile touched his mouth. “Probably not, though I won’t keep them from her a second longer than I have to.” He rolled the tags in his hand.

“Steve… I’m sorry.”

The other man frowned at him. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Tony—you were right there with the bomb and allow me to say how over those I am. But you were there. Your new suit protected her when The Other Guy lashed out—the shield kept her from dying. I’m thinking you did a lot not wrong.”

“I didn’t trust your gut.”

It was why Steve hadn’t wanted them to go to the cabin alone. He’d run interference, more to help alleviate the potential fight between the best friends and ease Natasha’s mind more than anything else.

“I’m the one who sent her over there,” Steve reminded him. “Bucky and I took the heavy arms, sent Clint and Nat to take care of the others. Not safer but—maybe less threat.”

He shook his head.

“The point is—I’ve been worried about this—all of this. I don’t want her to hurt anymore. But I can’t seem to stop it from happening.”

“No,” Tony said slowly. “Not going to stop us from trying. Going to modify that shield. It should have protected her this time.”

“It did.”

“Not enough,” Tony reminded him. “Not enough.” He rolled the ring around in his palm. “Think Bucky will tear my head off if I give this to him?”

“No,” Steve said quietly. “He doesn’t blame you either.”

“No, he’s blaming himself.”

Steve nodded. “We all are. Clint is—he said it earlier. If he’d stayed high—he could have taken that sniper before he got the drop on us.”

“Get anything off him?”

A slight shake of his head. “No ID. Bucky said his fingerprints were burned off. Vision is going to do a cross-match on the DNA, but I wasn’t thinking questioning.”

No. He was thinking the same thing Tony was. The son of a bitch took several shots at Natasha.

“She’s going to be alright, Steve.”

“You keep saying that.” Steve smiled faintly. “You trying to convince me or you?”

“Both—except—unlike the formless or when she disappeared after Ross or when The Mandarin took her—I know almost all the variables here. Bruised and battered.”

“Brain bleed.” Steve raised his brows. “You said brain bleed.”

“And she’s had those before, it was minor…”

“Tony, anything to do with her brain can hardly be minor.”

Pocketing the ring, he nodded and folded his arms. He’d kill for a drink. He hadn’t seen a bar in the other room, didn’t mean there wasn’t one there. Hell, he’d barely taken time to look at any of it. They could play tourist later, him and Natasha. They’d take Peter. Everyone else had been here.

Course, that pre-supposed Natasha was interested in anything after she woke up.

“You’re right, for anyone else, it wouldn’t be minor. But this is Red—she isn’t anyone else. She’s extraordinary. She defies every odd. She sees all the angles. She’s got all of us. She’s going to be fine. Then we’re going to find out who set her up and do a little housekeeping.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth turned down and his gaze went distant. “Is Bruce part of setting her up? Or were they just after any Avenger who showed up?”

“Maybe,” Tony admitted. “Maybe not. Bruce was there—disappeared for eighteen months and just happens to show up in LA directly where Red was?” Tony didn’t buy into that as a coincidence.

“Do you trust him?”

“T.B.D.” At the moment, he had a lot of feelings where Bruce Banner was concerned and a hell of a lot more questions. “Red first, then I’ll deal with him.”

“Tony—”

“I can handle, Banner.”

He checked his watch again. “Last status check said the swelling had begun to decrease. She’s not awake yet. Do they have coffee in this place?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “They do. Then you’re going back down?”

“I think we all should and we need to check on Peter.” He didn’t want to leave the kid on his own too long. Wanda would look after him. But he likened Natasha to his mother and that was a firm and fast bond they’d formed. Kid didn’t need to sweat it any longer than the rest of them.

“And we need Clint’s decision,” Steve added as he lead the way out of his room toward the kitchen. He moved like someone who had been here before and Tony swept a look around the room. It was done in gorgeous earth tones, soothing, but lacking anything of ornamentation. Simple. Comfortable.

The sectional sofa in the center invited conversation and comfort. It was all—soothing.

He really didn’t want to be soothed.

There was a screen on the wall, one swipe brought up a menu and display. Friday was already scanning it for him. Command interface terminal. Very sophisticated.

Steve crossed to where he was and placed his palm against the screen. It lit up. “Welcome back, Captain Rogers.”

“Thank you. Have you added Tony Stark to the references for access?”

“Permission has been granted. Bio scan required.”

Tony smirked and put his palm against the screen.

“Accepted. Welcome, Mr. Stark.” Friday found a protocol and a workaround and was in the system. Updates began to scroll as she pulled Natasha’s data. Steve folded his arms and stared at the screen.

Vitals all looked good.

The most recent scan showed a 33 percent improvement.

“At this rate Boss, she may be ready to wake at the two-hour mark or at least they could terminate the anesthesia and allow her to wake on her own.”

“So it’s working,” Steve said slowly, but a question hovered in his tone.

“Looks like it.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder to the patio. “Coffee will be ready in a minute. I want to get Buck to wash up. Then we can head back down or have Peter and Wanda come up—there’s room here for all of us.”

“Let’s check on her first.”

He wanted to see her.

“That’s a plan.”

Tony studied the readout again as the door to the patio opened and then closed behind him. He didn’t know if Bucky and Clint were talking, their voices didn’t carry.

“Friday, with current data set and Red’s condition, percentage chance for a stroke based on the proposed procedures?”

“About 28 percent.”

That was higher than it had been.

“And the likelihood for permanent failure?”

“Undetermined Boss, the safe bet would be at least 10 percent. But Nat’s medical scans and serum influence predictability. Particularly when this procedure on the average individual would likely prove fatal regardless.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Natasha was going to be fine.

The door behind him opened. “Lock the data.”

“Done, Boss.”

He turned away from the screen and headed for the coffee. Bucky stared at him. “I’m going to clean up—then go down and see her.”

“Good plan,” Tony said, reaching for his pocket but Steve shook his head once.

Bucky didn’t move immediately, he glanced back at Clint and Steve once, then met Tony’s gaze. “And I don’t want Banner anywhere near her.”

Not that Tony planned to invite him… “His expertise might…”

“I don’t care. I don’t want him near her and I don’t want anyone discussing her issues with him.”

“I think since we don’t know where he’s been or what he’s been doing,” Steve said slowly. “And considering how he left… it’s not an unfair request.”

Tony didn’t disagree, but he looked at Clint anyway.

“Look, I never saw what she saw in him. He used to be a decent guy, a little nutty—but we don’t know where he’s been and he’s a volatile element.” That only she could calm down. “So maybe let’s keep the volatile reactions to a minimum.”

“Agreed.”

Bucky’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Tony told him and then he poured his coffee. Bucky disappeared into the room Steve had used with Steve a half step behind him. This time he closed the door. Clint leaned against the counter and blew out a breath.

“How bad is it?”

“Do I have to keep you from drinking?” Clint asked.

Lifting his mug, Tony shrugged. “I’d kill for a scotch neat at the moment but I’m drinking coffee. So I think you’re safe.”

“Then my day just saw a moderate improvement.” He raked both hands over his head. He was still in his gear and his bow was collapsed and strapped to his thigh. “How long until I have to make a decision?”

“An hour. When she wakes up it’s out of your hands.”

Clint frowned. “Give me five minutes to wash up and call Laura.”

Tony nodded, saluting him with the mug then took another swallow of coffee as Clint vanished into a different bedroom.

The silence in the room lingered.

“Boss?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I do anything?”

Tony frowned. “Find out who that sniper was. I want to know everything about him—and the woman with the bomb.”

“I’ll get right on it. Logan called and so did Remy Lebeau and Matt Murdock.”

Eyes closed, he leaned his head back. 

“And there are more calls from the press. Ms. Potts is still in flight with Mr. Hogan. They are going to start taking the calls on the plane.”

“Just Happy and Pepper, Friday. No one else.”

“I’ll let them know.”

“And Friday? Tell them I said thank you.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

_Red is going to be just fine. _


	55. Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint makes a call

**Chapter Fifty-Five**

_Bruises_

**Bucky**

He ducked his head under the icy water and let the dirt roll off him. The cold didn’t register. The bandages Clint stuck to him were waterproof but if they came off, they came off. Tony’s advice to clean up or they wouldn’t let him in the medical suite with Natalia was a ruse. Natalia was unlikely to get an infection even if he walked in there stinking of mud. The other man just wanted him to take care of himself.

Fine.

He washed the dirt out of his hair, did a quick scrub, rinsed and shut the water off. The cold had braced him, but did little to cool the fury running in his veins or eased the bruises on his heart. Currently, he wasn’t sure which sight bothered him more—Natalia facing down that green monster without a seeming care for her own safety or the surprise on her face after the shelling knocked her into the fountain and the same monster pulled her out even as he shielded her.

That fact didn’t mitigate the rest of his behavior or the odd atmosphere surrounding their history. Bucky didn’t know this man nor did he trust him. He’d put Natalia in danger, that was all Bucky needed to know. Water off, he toweled dry briskly.

“Clean clothes,” Steve said dropping shirt, pants, and boxer briefs onto the counter.

“Thanks.” His chest ached. The fight had been fine, he’d actually enjoyed wading into those assholes. It felt good to pound “bad guys” who deserved it. The banter on the comms had been soothing. Natalia and Clint teasing each other had made him smile more than once.

“Buck…”

“I’m handling it, Stevie,” he said, his tone curt. “I told you out there, don’t try to soften this. Facts. It will make it easier.” He was right on the edge. He hadn’t felt this close to the Soldier in a while. When The Mandarin had her, he’d leaned heavily on the Soldier, but on the heels of the weekend—everything was a threat assessment. His Natalia was hurt—_again_. There was a fine line between what she’d suffered on their previous missions, what their handlers deemed within acceptable ranges and the rather gruesome events they kept facing now.

It didn’t matter that the rest of him understood the difference. What happened today was in no way Natalia’s fault. Yet the last place Bucky wanted her to ever be again was the one place she would likely never leave willingly. Protecting others was how she made her peace with the crimes she had committed. 

“Maybe I’m not,” Steve’s quiet words jerked him out of his musings and he met his best friend’s gaze. “I sent her out there, Buck.”

“What were you going to do, leave her on the quinjet?” He raised his brows. “You really think she’d have stayed?”

“No,” Steve admitted folding his arms. “But it was my call.”

“Steve—it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t any of our faults. It was whoever keeps gunning for her. And Banner.”

“Buck—I know you don’t know him, but Bruce…”

“What? Cares about her? He looked real caring when he was trying to duck out. Or maybe he doesn’t mean to go all green and ragey? Do you know how much I don’t care? He’s an alpha level threat.” He’d had files on the Avengers. Command structures added in those last couple of years with Hydra. They’d all been on his list of people to _avoid_ until Pierce sent him after Natalia and Sitwell, then Steve. “I don’t care if he cares. He’s a _threat_.”

“She can handle him,” Steve said, then held up a hand. “Listen. You’re angry. So am I. You don’t trust him. I have questions and doubts—Tony’s right, it’s awfully convenient Bruce showing up like that when he did.”

“Why are we talking about him?” Because the only thing Bucky wanted to know was how did he kill that big green monster. There was a witch downstairs very loyal to Natalia and Natalia suggested she could stop Vision. Vision was another possible candidate. Then there was the doctor. Strange had unusual abilities.

“Because you need to hear it from me, Nat and Bruce—had a thing.”

Had a thing? Bucky raised his eyebrows. “I care because?” It was the past as far as he was concerned.

“Because he—left and it hurt her.”

“This isn’t helping his case.”

“I’m not trying to help his case.” The blunt honesty helped, Steve met his gaze directly as Bucky dragged on a shirt. The places where Clint had dug out the bullets burned, but the pain helped so he left it alone. “To be honest, I want you to know so it doesn’t blindside you. I don’t know that they were ever together. I know her feelings were complicated. I know he left—after Sokovia. He disappeared. I know it hurt her. But she didn’t talk about it—not before we were in Moscow.”

Bucky frowned.

“At least she didn’t talk to me. She might have talked to Tony or Clint. Nat’s pretty private.”

He was well aware.

Steve blew out a breath. “Long story short, Ultron had Nat locked up—in the dungeon of a fortress of an old Hydra base. Bruce went in to get her out while the rest of us were after Ultron. Division of labor and Bruce wasn’t keen on letting The Other Guy out—extenuating circumstances that aren’t relevant at the moment.”

Arms folded, Bucky studied him.

“At the time, it was just important to get her and make sure she was all right but I had to tackle the immediate threat to the city. Natasha and The Other Guy made it up there as the city was lifting off… what I didn’t know before was that Bruce and Nat had talked about taking off, just disappearing and leaving the fight. Bruce wanted to go—when he got her out of that cell. But she knew the fight wasn’t done and that we needed The Other Guy. She shoved him off a cliff to get The Other Guy out.”

“Then he left—after that fight?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay.” She’d betrayed Banner. That made Banner even more suspect. But he’d deal with that.

Food had been delivered while he was in the shower. Tony stood drinking coffee and one finger tapping rapidly at the side of his mug when Steve and Bucky emerged from the room. His expression was fierce, but his eyes distant. When he met Bucky’s gaze, he said, “Continued improvement. The swelling is going down.”

Relief swarmed him.

“Eat,” Clint said. “Just grab something before we go. Peter and Wanda are coming up right now.”

That was good.

He wasn’t hungry, but Steve and Clint both glared at him. “Punk first. He took more bullets.”

With a roll of his eyes, Steve headed for the trays of food on the counter. Bucky had no idea where any of it had come from and while he trusted a couple of the Wakandans, he didn’t know the rest.

On the deck, Clint had told him he needed to keep it together.

_He hadn’t answered, just took another drag on his cigarette._

_“Nat’s going to make it…”_

_It wasn’t about that._

_“We just gotta be patient. She does this.”_

_Did he think he didn’t know? For a moment, the old resentment swam up but he quashed it. Pain and discomfort with the situation at hand left him in a bad mood. The humid air left a sheen of sweat on his skin. The summery warmth a contrast to the icy chill of the cabin or the cozy comfort of wrapping around Natalia by the fire._

_Twelve hours? Fourteen? Barely a half-a-day and now they were in Wakanda._

_All he could do was watch. Clint had the medical proxy. Tony had the necessary understanding. Steve… Steve had the team to look after. Bucky? He wanted to figure out how to kill The Other Guy. That monster didn’t need to be anywhere near her._

_He kind of wished he had the photograph of Mary on him, but they’d left the precious cargo aboard the quinjet before going into the fight. Considering some of the bullets went through his jacket. That was a good thing. A sting along his side when the skin pulled as he put out the first cigarette and lit the second._

_They were in Wakanda. Natalia wanted her memories. If it was his call though? He didn’t think he could authorize it before she was awake. It wasn’t a question of if she’d changed her mind so much as it was her mind period. She should be the one to decide._

_“What will you tell them?” he asked, finally._

_“I don’t know,” Clint admitted. “I know what she wanted and what we argued about. But I also know—she just took a hell of a knock. I want to know she’s all there before committing to something that could traumatize her. Better to face her own demons when she is awake and aware.”_

_On that, they were agreed._

_“What would you choose?”_

_“She did not give me that choice,” Bucky said slowly. “Because I don’t want her to hurt—I wouldn’t choose to do that to her. Even if she is prepared for the pain.”_

_“But you’re not stopping her either.”_

_“Her choice.” It had to be. They’d had too much stripped away without their consent._

_“Is there anything I need to know?” Clint asked and the careful phrasing pulled a reluctant smile from him._

_“She loved Mary and not knowing what happened to her is eating away at her.”_

_“Yeah,” Clint exhaled. “That I did know.”_

_“Then you know what you need to know.”_

_They said nothing after that. The silence companionable and as much as Bucky hated to admit it—he was grateful Clint stayed._

Wanda and Peter’s arrival broke some of the tension. Though both were clearly worried, Wanda said she’d taken Peter to one of the small kitchens on the ground floor for fresh bread and fruits. She’d debated taking him out to the street vendors beyond the palace complex, but neither had wanted to be gone that long. Bucky hadn’t gotten to spend much time exploring Wakanda, but he’d hoped to at least show it to Natalia before the procedure.

“This place is—like right out of a comic book or sci-fi show,” Peter enthused.

Steve bit into a meaty kabob and Peter brightened as he saw the food.

“Help yourself,” Bucky told him. Clint was eating as well, Wanda didn’t seem interested and while he’d gotten to know her a little, the acquaintance was still too fresh to be altogether comfortable with judging her mood. Worried about Natalia, clearly. But they had eaten so her lack of appetite might just mean she was full.

He glanced at Tony again and Tony shook his head slightly. No change. But she had been improving, so no change meant she wasn’t getting worse. He would take it.

The conversation, such as it was, revolved around the food and the palace and the technological marvels. Bucky only half-listened, his focus narrowed on the clock.

At thirty minutes until the two hours were up, he headed for the door. If they wanted to continue talking, that was fine. But as if by unspoken agreement, everyone went on the move when he did. At the end of the hall, the guards glanced up and one nodded to them.

“Do you wish to return to the medical suites?”

“Yes,” Bucky told him and the man inclined his head.

“This way.”

Only one guard came with them, the other maintained watch. He’d mapped the path mentally on the way up, and he tracked each turn before their guard made it. Then they were back to the waiting room.

T’Challa glanced up from where he reviewed a datapad. “You look better, Sergeant Barnes, though not as well as you might.”

“Your Majesty,” Bucky said. “I’ll be fine. Has there been any word?”

“T’Challa,” the monarch reminded him. “And no, though I am told the swelling is continuing to reduce so that is good news.” He glanced past Bucky toward Tony. “Dr. Banner asked for a secure suite, so I’ve placed him a locked chamber. When you’re ready to speak to him, I’ll take you there.”

“Locked won’t hold him if The Other Guy wants out,” Tony warned.

Bucky didn’t want to talk about The Other Guy. He’d see that beast looming over her in his nightmares. The photos and news reports did not do _The Other Guy_ justice when it came to size or threat.

“It’s a vibranium chamber, it will contain him.”

Tony and Steve both wore faintly skeptical expressions. But then Tony shook his head. “He wanted to be locked in? Fine. Let him be locked in. I still need to talk to him once we get Red squared away.”

“As I said, Dr. Banner presumed you’d want to speak with him. When you’re ready, we’ll arrange it. Should I be concerned that he will want out of that chamber?”

“I wish I knew the answer,” Tony admitted.

“We haven’t seen Dr. Banner in more than a year and a half,” Steve stated.

“Wait—Dr. Banner who did all that work on anti-electron collisions and helped design Vision’s neural matrix—”

“And Ultron’s,” Wanda supplied.

“—he’s a bad guy?” Peter finished.

“We don’t know what he is right now, Pete. At the moment, we’re exercising caution.” Tony’s answer was far more polite than Bucky’s.

Before he could comment on either, however, the doors opened to the medical hall and Shuri appeared. “Are you people out here having a party or did you want to see the patient? The swelling is more than fifty percent reduced and continuing to decline and Doctor Strange would like an answer before we begin tapering off the anesthesia.”

Then Shuri looked at him. “Hello, Sergeant Barnes. I would like you to know that I am very sympathetic to the reason for your visit and I will give you the rest of the day before I ask you to let me run some tests to check on your improvement.”

Almost against his will, he smiled. The princess was a rare kind of dame, she was both brilliant and irritating in the way of sisters. It was hard to be irked with her even when she seemed intent on getting on someone’s nerves. “I appreciate your patience.”

“It’s not patience, it’s called stalking. I’m just being polite and giving you the heads up.”

Peter snickered at her sassy response and Bucky grinned for real this time.

“Shuri…” T’Challa warned.

“Hush, Brother, I thought I was going to have to go to New York and stake out that Tower to get a good look at him.” She paused a beat then said, “Though it might have given me a closer look at the ARC reactor so I might yet do that.”

There was nothing devious in her smile.

“Perhaps you’d like to take them through to see Ms. Romanoff rather than harassing Sergeant Barnes.”

“I’ve told you both to call me Bucky,” he reminded them.

“But it’s much more fun to see you look sheepish when I say Sergeant Barnes and you still call me Princess, so I think it’s a fair trade.”

“Whatever you say,” Bucky retorted drily. “Princess.”

“See,” she said with a grin and clapped her hands. “Much more fun. I know most of you—including Wanda, hello again.”

“Hi,” Wanda said. “It’s lovely to see you again I just wish…”

“Better circumstances, agreed. We’ll get her fixed right up, no worries. Who are you?” She pinned a look on Peter.

Pretty girl, direct, and brilliant—Peter, predictably, swallowed his tongue. “I’m Spide—er Parker Peter. I mean…”

“This is Peter Parker,” Tony said, gripping Peter’s shoulders. “He’s very anxious to see Red, so maybe we can do the meet and greet in a bit, yeah?”

Shuri’s smile took on a mischievous note for a moment, then she sobered. All business and class. “Of course, please, come this way. You do not have to be gowned, currently, she is resting in the clean ward, but we have been fortunate in discovering no open wounds. Her bruises do not seem to be healing swiftly, but that’s to be expected given the damage taken by her skull and her brain. One thing we noticed…the brain bleed seems to have not been fresh, it was already partially healed, but the blow may have reopened it. Did she experience another episode recently?”

Peter’s smile faded and Wanda frowned.

“Yes,” Bucky said. “Though it wasn’t a full-blown one.” She’d had that headache. Later—the dream—she’d known where things were hidden. She’d said she’d averted it, but maybe not.

“Well that might explain it, it’s not a real concern at the moment. But I do want to be accurate.”

There were two of the Dora Milaje standing outside the double doors, their red and silver armored uniforms distinctive. They greeted Shuri with crossed arms then resumed their stance.

Inside, the room was semi-dark, the lights turned down and away from her. “We’re preparing for her to wake up,” Shuri said quietly as if she might wake her. “I expect she will have quite the headache.”

Doctor Strange glanced up from where he studied a scan. “Gentlemen—miss.” He added the last when he caught sight of Wanda. She slowed her steps under the scrutiny and Bucky took a step to the right and cut off his gaze. Something Wanda appreciated, because he didn’t think she faked that little relieved sigh. Doctor Strange frowned then glanced back at Natalia.

Bucky hadn’t let himself focus on her yet. He hated it when she was pale and still. Even in sleep, there was something peaceful yet vibrant about her. A sense of energy poised. Like this, there was a nothingness he disliked intensely. The same kind of blankness present after a trip to the chair when he needed to rouse her—that discomfiting thought lingered.

Strange’s cloak was wrapped around her, bundling her much like he and Steve had been. More it was wrapped around her hands, like it was holding them but not an ounce of fabric graced her wrists.

“He won’t leave her,” Strange answered the question he hadn’t asked. “He likes her.”

“A lot of people do,” Bucky said, then moved to cover her hand with his, the cloak pulled back, freeing her fingers, then did the same for Steve. Natalia’s ring wasn’t on her finger. He frowned.

“I have it,” Tony told him quietly. “They had to take it and the tags off.” He held it out in his palm.

“Thank you,” Bucky said, collecting it and then glancing at them. “Is there any reason she can’t wear it now?”

“No, unless we go with the princess’s recommendation for cryo, then we’ll need to remove all jewelry.”

Bucky remembered. Metal and freezing weren’t a good combination, ironically. Still, he slid the ring back on her right hand ring finger. It didn’t mean much to the others, but it meant everything to him. In the U.S. and England, the left hand was where the wedding ring traditionally went, but in Russia. It was the right.

Peter and Wanda stood at the foot of the bed while Clint stood next to Steve, arms folded and his expression thoughtful. Steve didn’t hang the dog tags on her neck, but he likely didn’t want to move her head—a sentiment Bucky could agree on.

“Mr. Barton,” Doctor Strange said. “We’re ready to begin decreasing the anesthesia. The swelling is continuing to reduce, in theory, she could wake up shortly though she may not want to stay awake once we determine her pain levels. If we’re going to go ahead with the procedure, now would be the time to make the decision. We’ll have to stabilize and get her pain managed if we wait for her to wake up.”

Bucky ground his teeth.

There was no good decision.

But Natalia trusted Clint to make these choices if she couldn’t—then again, they could just wait for her to wake up and deal with the pain and the uncertainty of being in any medical facility—or they could simply attempt to give her back what had been taken. Then deal with the consequences when she woke from that.

Locking gazes with Steve, Bucky read the same hesitation in his eyes. It had to be Natalia’s choice.

_“I wasn’t alone James. The one thing I can remember…I had her. I had her and I had a reason to keep moving. I wanted you. I wanted you back with us badly and I think those two desires were at war with each other until I had to make the choice to try and get you back.”_

_Dipping his head, he rocked his hips until she spread her legs to cradle him and then, braced on his forearms, he rested his forehead to hers again. “Thank you for coming here—for trusting me. For wanting to remember.”_

_“Of course, I want to remember,” she whispered. “I want her back most of all even if we can never have it.” Tears burned in her eyes and the struggle to bury it played across her face and tore at his heart. His Natalia should never be in this much pain._

There really was only one answer.

Even if he hated it.

**Clint**

The focus in the room rested uncomfortably on him. No one had complained about Natasha’s choice to leave him in charge where her medical decisions were concerned—not even her. Considering he’d made his feelings plain on the subject, she could have changed her mind. The trust inherent in her choice wasn’t lost on him. This was his best friend and he didn’t want to choose badly or risk her.

_Life is a risk_. He could almost picture her shrug. _I have to know._

Yeah, she did.

Laura’s worried voice when he told her what was going on—after they made sure with Friday that none of the kids could overhear—echoed in his ears.

_“It can’t be about what we want,_ _you know that, right?”_

_“What I want is my best friend alive and well.”_

_“I know, but what does she want? What would she choose?”_

_“You know predicting Nat is half-guesswork and half dumb luck.”_

_Laura chuckled. “Of everyone there, you’ve known Natasha the longest. You know what she’d choose and if you have any doubts, ask Bucky.”_

_“I already did.”_

_“And?”_

_“And pretty much what I thought.”_

_“Then you know the answer.”_

_“Why did I know you were going to say that?”_

_“Because you’re the right man for this job, it’s why she trusts you to make the call.”_

When he said nothing, Peter said, “Does the magic cloak have a crush on her or something?”

“As I said, he likes her,” Strange retorted drily.

“Obviously more than you,” Clint commented, still studying her face.

“Obviously.” While the doctor didn’t quite roll his eyes, his voice held that note.

“Are we supposed to be concerned with his attachment to her?” Steve asked. “Cute cloaks might make formidable competition for her attention.”

The cloak seemed to preen at the comment—if cloaks could preen. Clint snorted. “Steve, if you want _real_ competition for her attention, I’ll bring you the cat.”

“Cat?” Steve asked even as Tony echoed the question and Bucky frowned.

“She’s on the farm with Lucky,” Clint answered.

“Since when does Red have a cat?” Tony looked perplexed.

“Well, no, Nat doesn’t. The cat has her. Why else would she be at the farm?” He shook his head. “Do you know what I had to go through to convince her to bring that cat _to_ the farm? I’m just happy the cat’s half in love with the dog.” He snorted. Natasha was going to kick his ass for telling them about Liho.

_“I don’t have a cat. It’s a stray.”_

_“You’re feeding it.”_

_“So, I feed you.”_

_“You let it sleep in your apartment.”_

_“I let you sleep in my apartment.”_

_“It’s your cat.”_

_“It’s a stray.”_

_“Then am I stray?”_

_“If the label fits.” She smirked. “Liho is not my cat. It just crashes here sometimes.”_

_“She, Tash. Liho is a she.”_

_“Whatever.”_

“We haven’t had a rodent problem in a year,” Clint murmured. “She’s an efficient little assassin.”

When she got better, he was going to drop Liho on her head. Considering that _stray_ got gourmet cat food, bottled water, and one of Nat’s old sweatshirts in a cat bed as well as a permanently cracked window in the apartment so she could get in and out—Natasha was definitely Liho’s human. The cat put up with the rest of them, but she and Lucky were pals.

Strange cleared his throat and Clint glanced at him. “Mr. Barton? If you don’t want to make a decision, we can just lighten up the anesthesia and let her wake. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

She definitely would.

“Couple of questions…” He hesitated when he glanced to where Peter and Wanda stood.

“Please don’t ask us to leave,” Peter said. “I can handle it. You all said she’s going to be okay, right?”

“Her prognosis is very positive at the moment, Mr. Parker. We’re simply addressing why Ms. Romanoff wanted to come here in the first place and making the decision about whether to continue or allow her to fully recover from this.”

Peter frowned.

“Your questions, Mr. Barton?” Strange looked at him again. Another doctor joined them—that had to be Dr. A’dyemi. He nodded to them but didn’t make an attempt to join their little circle around the bed. Shuri, however, looked at them intently.

“She has to have a concussion.”

“She does,” Shuri answered before Strange could. “Without a doubt.”

“The last time she used BARF…”

“…SPARK…” Peter, Steve and Tony said almost automatically.

Bucky just rolled his eyes, but his frown deepened.

“… she went into a coma.”

“We’re aware of that concern,” Strange answered slowly. “Part of why we will be doing it in stages and we’re considering cryostasis for the majority of it.”

“Didn’t she need to be awake?”

“To help with the pain, we needed to do it stage by stage, but that was before this trauma. We could avoid the excruciating part by keeping her out—then even if there is some pain, she will remain unaware of it.”

“But we won’t know what she’s experiencing either?”

Not that Clint specifically wanted to know.

“You’re concerned that it would trigger a catastrophic memory and she would have to endure that with no way to break the cycle?” Strange surmised.

“We wouldn’t be able to anyway,” Shuri explained. “I know Mr. Stark has been working on a failsafe, an eject button of sorts for SPARK so that if a memory is particularly gruesome or troubling, she could think of a key phrase or say it aloud. In theory, it will then trigger a more pleasant memory to provide relief, but because we are activating damaged areas by essentially removing the scarring—we need the focus to remain on retracing blocked neural pathways.”

Tony grimaced.

“So, Natalia will suffer either way—but if she is awake, she will also have the physical pain to cope with.”

“Unfortunately,” Strange said. “I have some theories to help mitigate that as well. We are prepared. But we have this option and we would be remiss if we didn’t address it.”

Clint considered the angles. “What is the likelihood she would need to go into cryostasis? You’ve both said it’s also an option or possibility.”

“I would say greater than fifty percent,” Shuri stated. “Specifically because we would be able to do it all at once.”

Across the table, Bucky clenched one of his fists.

“That would restore the greatest amount and the time in cryo could let her process it some, though whether she would have access to it all when she woke—” Her gaze tracked to Bucky. “It may be similar to your experiences, Sergeant Barnes.”

“But we’re guessing now,” Strange corrected. “We have no baseline for this. The closest we have is Sergeant Barnes and those cases are different enough to make it questionable.”

“And how long would she have to stay there?”

This part was crucial. Steve had gone stiff at his first question about cryo. Clint got it, that was a nightmare for him. He’d pretty much checked out when Bucky had gone into it. Natasha would be much worse.

“I’m afraid that we can’t necessarily answer that question with any accuracy,” Shuri apologized. “There are too many unknown variables.”

Tony blew out a breath and braced his hands on the bed next to her leg. Peter sagged and Wanda’s frown deepened as she focused on Natasha. Clint didn’t have to look to know both Bucky and Steve were no longer on board.

Unknown variables?

Fuck.

“What if I can ask her right now?”

Deadly silence blanketed the room at Wanda’s question.

“She doesn’t want you in her mind,” Steve said in a gentle if extremely firm tone. “I believe that was the point of the lesson a few days ago.”

“She did not want me in her memories,” Wanda corrected. “This wouldn’t be that. This would be me seeing if I can reach her and just ask her—while she’s out. Then she can make the informed decision.”

No one moved, but Strange scowled at Wanda, his eyes narrowing. “And exactly how do you presume to do that?”

“Ease up,” Clint said and shifted even as he put a hand on Wanda’s shoulder. Steve also narrowed his eyes at the wizard.

“I merely asked a question, Mr. Barton. Ms. Maximoff is an unknown quantity with considerable power that I am not altogether certain she understands and Natasha is _my_ patient.”

Harry Potter was possessive, kind of like his cloak. The shifting red fabric had stilled.

“I can touch her mind lightly. If she’s at all awake, I should be able to reach her.” 

“She’s not awake,” Strange corrected. “The anesthesia is designed to keep her conscious mind asleep.”

“But there is unaware and there is deep sleep,” Wanda argued. “If I can touch her consciousness, I’m not saying I would, but I could tell her what is going on and she could tell us what she wants.”

“If Natasha said no…” Peter began.

“Then it’s no,” Tony finished.

“Wanda,” Clint told her as he rubbed her shoulder. “She has her reasons.”

“I know, but I want to help.”

“Wanting to help and abusing your abilities are not mutually exclusive,” Strange chastised her and Clint glared at him.

“Do us a favor, focus on your patient and leave Wanda alone.”

“Guys,” Steve said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is not helping. No one wants to do this without her explicitly agreeing and we know for sure she’s all right from that hit.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“She’s going to call us all a bunch of saps,” Clint commented with a groan.

“I can live with that,” Bucky stated.

“Yeah, she’s definitely going to give you the most hell,” Tony said with the first real grin since they’d gotten there. “I can live with that.”

Steve shook his head. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“But this is Red, she can get us out of the woods with both hands tied behind her back and blindfolded.” The extreme confidence in Tony’s voice was what the others needed to hear. 

Peter grinned. Clint didn’t miss the troubled look Shuri and Strange exchanged, but they were off the hook for now. They were worried, but whether it was about her current condition or the course of action, Clint wasn’t sure. “Take her off the anesthesia if the swelling is down. Let her wake up. She can kick my ass if she doesn’t like the choice.”

He could handle it.

His best friend wasn’t going down that rabbit hole without knowing they were all right here waiting to pull her back up. Sending her in, alone, in the dark had been what bugged him more than anything.

Strange nodded and glanced over to A’dyemi. Shuri made a face, but then she also nodded. “It would be easier to just do it now.”

“Easier doesn’t always equal improvement,” Tony told her.

“Or better,” T’Challa added. Until now, he’d quietly waited on the far side of the room. “Natasha’s wishes must be taken into account. Her wishes dictated that Clint make the decision and he has made it. We will make her comfortable and then when she is ready, we will let her make the choice.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it, Brother. I just think asking her to wake up in pain and then oh, let us give you more pain, is the worse option. But then I do not have an elite cat assassin for a pet.”

At T’Challa’s dry expression, Clint covered a snicker, but Wanda put both hands over her mouth. Peter, however, just burst out laughing. Tony’s grin actually reached his eyes and even Steve’s shoulders began to shake.

The only one not laughing was Bucky, but some of the darkness in his eyes lessened.

“It could be some time before she wakes,” Shuri warned. “We are dialing back the anesthesia now. The swelling is also at 75% reduced. I would expect a headache of some significance when she wakes. We can discuss pain medication with her then.”

“I doubt she’ll take any,” Strange commented and they all looked at him. The cloak snuggled tighter. He caught their glances and shrugged. “Call it an educated guess based on observation of her behavior. She does not like to have her control usurped.”

“No,” Bucky said simply. “She does not.”

“We will convince her. For now,” Shuri said. “We will keep her in here, there are no windows and we can control the light. Would you like to go out and wait or…” She hesitated and then snorted. “I will have chairs brought in for you.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Bucky said.

“You are very welcome, Sergeant Barnes. Could I persuade you to let me run a couple of tests while we are waiting on Ms. Romanoff?”

“You could try,” he offered. “But I’d much rather sit with her.”

“I will get you to do at least two tests for me—you must promise me this. I want to know that my work is complete and then I no longer have to worry about you.”

He sighed. “I’ll think about it. I’m afraid I’m no fonder of medical tests than Natalia is.”

It only took a few minutes, but the chairs were arranged around the room along with a couple of sofa.s By unspoken consent they backed off and let Bucky sit with her for a bit, then he relinquished his spot to Steve. Clint figured Tony would be next and he leaned back and stretched out his legs.

“It’s weird to be back here,” Wanda said.

“You were here before,” Peter said. “Was that after…?”

“The airport?” Wanda nodded. “And after Steve got us out of the Raft.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” Peter told her, his expression earnest. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right,” she put a hand on his arm. “It’s fine _now_. You couldn’t have known.”

Clint’s eyes were half-shut, but he wasn’t dumb, blind, or stupid. Peter’s red ears and bright eyes at the contact said volumes. The two were half-twisted in their seats and talking in low-pitched voices.

“Red will kick your ass she catches you looking at Pete like that,” Tony said conversationally, but quietly. Neither one of the kids moved but Steve and Bucky glanced from Tony to them and back. Steve hid a smile and Bucky shrugged with a shake of his head.

How long had _that_ been going on? They barely knew each other.

“Hmm,” was Clint’s only comment. Wanda wasn’t a child exactly and Peter was definitely younger—but still. He was a guy.

Clint was a guy. At fifteen, he’d had some game.

Bucky rose and thumped him as he switched seats, and it blocked the kids from his direct view.

“Nice,” he commented and Bucky leaned his head back with a faint smile.

Tony chortled, then waved off both Peter and Wanda when they glanced at him. “Private joke.”

Not so private, but they let it go. Clint sighed. He caught Strange studying Wanda again and leaned forward. “What is his problem?”

“Power,” Bucky said in an equally quiet voice. “Assessing potential threats in a room. You and I both do it.”

“She’s a kid.”

Bucky just stared at him. “So was Natalia once. It didn’t make her any less dangerous.”

“Yeah, I know.” 

Steve finally stood and pressed a kiss to her forehead, before he glanced over at Tony.

Without missing a beat, Tony said, “Pete… you wanted a minute?”

The kid rocketed out of his seat. “Sorry, Wanda…”

“No, it’s fine. I wouldn’t mind going after if you guys don’t mind.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said as he joined them, hand against the back of his neck. In the meantime, Peter had taken Steve’s chair and sat right next to her with his back to them. It wasn’t much privacy, but none of them were trying to listen. The monitors detailed her vitals and they hadn’t varied yet…

“Any word from Vision or the others?” Steve asked.

“No,” Tony said. “Friday’s last update was they were still cleaning up. Rhodey is there now. The press has footage of Red and The Other Guy as well as Red going down. They are trying to clarify but we’re not issuing any statements. Pepper is on her way back to New York and she’s taking calls on the plane. She’ll spin this down until Red can make a statement.”

“The Committee?” Steve asked.

“Friday is brushing them off for now.” Tony studied Peter then shook his head. “We’ll figure it out. I need to talk to Bruce before I talk to them anyway.”

“You know they’re going to ask.” Steve wasn’t wrong. Banner being back changed the dynamic. In no world was The Other Guy _not_ a threat. But he wasn’t exactly _containable_. The closest they’d come was Natasha’s lullaby and Veronica. Alternative methods without equal success, and the lullaby hadn’t kept Banner from fucking off somewhere and Veronica didn’t prevent The Other Guy from doing extreme damage until he was down.

“Yep,” Tony said, his tone dry. “I know exactly what they’re going to ask. But I don’t have answers. Not yet anyway.”

Steve shifted, his expression a faint grimace. Neither he nor Bucky had taken anything and they’d pulled several bullets out of them. They probably needed sleep and more food. Clint checked the time, then looked at Natasha.

“Thirty minutes and you two need to eat,” he said without preamble and Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“It’s that or I tell her exactly how many bullets we dug out. If you don’t want to deal with it, then take care to heal before she has to know.” It was blackmail.

Extortion.

And he’d cheerfully do it. Natasha would figure out the injuries eventually. Better they were in good shape when she did.

With a quiet glare, Steve said, “So it’s like that?”

“Oh yeah,” Clint said with a nod. “It’s exactly like that.” She’d asked him once to look after them for her—that she would do the same for Laura when he wasn’t able. She always had, so, here he was—super soldier manager to the stars.

Tony snickered.

“Keep laughing, Stark, I better see you getting some sleep in a few hours or your ass goes under the bus next.”

Wanda burst out laughing as Tony’s own laughter cut off. Peter snuck a glance over his shoulder and grinned.

Bucky almost smiled.

Almost.

The lips twitched.

“Thirty minutes,” Bucky agreed. “We do it in shifts.”

“I don’t care if you order in, as long as you eat. Neither of you are planning on sleeping anytime soon.” And Bucky was already worn out from the cabin. He and Natasha had both been worn out. While he didn’t think he’d told anyone, Clint had seen him there the first time. Seen the pain he went through.

The man might bury it all behind the need to protect Natasha, but he had a wound in his soul every bit as much as she did. So while Natasha was down, Clint would make sure these idiots were there when she woke up. Then she could have them back and he’d go back to winning his place back with his wife.

Dammit, he still hadn’t taken her to the house yet.

And he was pretty sure Bucky hadn’t clued Steve or Natasha into the place he’d been locking down.

Well, weren’t they a matched set?

The pace on the heart rate monitor increased. 

**Peter**

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He hadn’t heard Steve or Bucky talking to her, though the hum of quiet conversation continued behind him. They’d tapered off her anesthesia so she could wake up on her own. Peter didn’t know what happened exactly, no one had told him. Aunt May had been watching the news and she’d called him when the Avengers had appeared to be in a fight in the middle of Los Angeles.

They’d seen the arrival of The Other Guy and while Peter had seen him on the news before, he hadn’t really had a reference for how huge he was or how he’d tower over Natasha and Tony. They’d been right in front of him and they’d both gotten smacked.

Peter remembered how to breathe when Steve pulled her to her feet. The new suit worked. It had really worked, then she’d gone right back up to the green guy and he’d—calmed down.

May had been holding his hand so tight there were nail indentations in his skin. When the gunfire opened up—all he’d seen was Natasha go down and the big green guy tried to cover her.

But she wasn’t moving and then the signals all cut out.

“Oh God,” May had stared at him but agitation raked through Peter. He’d had no indication. No tingling sense of doom. Had she just been too far away? What if she was…?

“I have to call Friday,” he said, leaping off the sofa.

He’d only been half-aware of May following him as he grabbed his cell phone and called the Tower. Friday told him she was alive and he had to wipe the tears from his eyes. Then she told him to come to the Tower—they were taking Natasha to Wakanda and Doctor Strange would send a portal for him.

Explaining _that_ to Aunt May had been fun.

But she hadn’t told him no, instead she’d asked a lot of questions and then said, “You can go, but I want you to call me. Make sure you take your...”

He didn’t have a passport. They shared dual looks.

“I’m sure I can get back in,” he said. He’d gone to Germany with Tony, but they’d taken a quinjet.

“You better,” she said firmly. “C’mon, I’m going to drive you.”

He was about to tell her he could get there faster, but he didn’t argue. He stuffed some clean clothes in his backpack and she grabbed his toothbrush and then they were downstairs and in the car.

“Call me when you get there—wait, text me when you get there. Let me know how she’s doing and you tell me how you’re doing.” They were almost to the Tower when she said, “Peter, she’s going to be alright.”

“You don’t know that.” He didn’t know that.

“Didn’t she just survive some awful things?”

She had. He couldn’t really argue that.

“Then she’s going to be alright. One thing you learn when you work in the hospital, how a patient feels is critical to their recovery. You have to believe it.”

“I will.”

It was the longest drive of his life, but she let him out a block away. He insisted. It was just safer. Then he ran the rest of the way. Friday got him in and then he went up to the penthouse to wait. He wasn’t alone long, Wanda arrived and he’d never been so glad to see someone. After Christmas morning with all its laughter and fun around the tree, the penthouse seemed too empty and lonely.

The portal arrived less than a minute after she did, which told him they’d been waiting on Wanda.

Doctor Strange just nodded to him and vanished through some double doors. Steve and Bucky were bleeding. Clint looked deeply worried. Peter saw no sign of Tony, he must have been in with Natasha maybe. T’Challa was there, but he hadn’t really had the opportunity to speak to him—and Doctor Banner.

The guy was a legend, he was also the big green guy. He was sitting away from everyone and when Peter would have gone over, Wanda tugged him back.

Now they were all in Natasha’s room waiting for her to wake up—well, not her room really. It was a medical suite, they’d made it more room like. The lights were low, probably to protect her eyes when she opened them.

Concussions could be bad. Fractured skulls were definitely bad. When Tony had asked him and Wanda to go find food, it had stung a little. The adults needed to talk. If it had to do with Natasha, he wanted to be in on the conversation, but he really didn’t get a say.

He stared at her face, she was so—quiet and still.

It was unnerving. Even when she was still when she was teaching him, there was always this sense of leashed energy. She could burst into motion at any moment. Having sparred with her and seen her spar—she could _had_ burst into motion suddenly.

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees. In a quiet voice, he said, “We’re all here, waiting for you to wake up. You know—I really wanted to come to Wakanda and so far I’ve seen a waiting room, a cafeteria—I think it was a cafeteria—and now this room.” Leaning a bit closer, he whispered, “I don’t know what all the fuss is about. But when you wake up, maybe we can go explore together.”

From behind him, Clint said, “Thirty minutes and you two need to eat.” There was a beat of silence then he added. “It’s that or I tell her exactly how many we dug out. If you don’t want to deal with it, then take care to heal before she has to know.”

Oh. Bullets.

Damn. Clint was kind of badass. Blackmailing them to take care of themselves.

Natasha would like that.

“So it’s like that?” Steve said.

“Oh yeah,” Clint commented. “It’s exactly like that.”

Tony snickered.

“Keep laughing, Stark, I better see you getting some sleep in a few hours or your ass goes under the bus next.”

Wanda burst out laughing as Tony’s laughter cut off. Peter snuck a glance over his shoulder and grinned. For some reason, that made him feel better. They could still laugh. They could still tell jokes.

The beeping on the monitors changed and he looked back at her. A warning monitor went off.

Doctor Strange straightened from where he’d been waiting and crossed over to the bed and Peter stood.

Her blood pressure was higher.

“Natasha?” Peter said, trying not to shout. There was a hand on his shoulder, but Bucky didn’t pull him away.

“Hang on, Pal,” Bucky said.

Everyone had stood, it was like they were crowding behind him, but Peter didn’t want to give up his spot. Her expression shifted, her eyes tightening and her face tensing.

“Natasha,” Doctor Strange said. “I need you to open your eyes, but not move too much. Can you open your eyes?”

She didn’t say anything, but the monitors were increasing their alarms.

Shuri and Doctor A’dyemi returned to the room.

“Hey Natasha,” Peter tried. “We’re all right here. Just open your eyes so they can give you something for the pain.”

Doctor A’dyemi was drawing something into a syringe. His attention split between his work and the monitors.

“Natasha,” Doctor Strange said again and the cloak—which Peter just realized was wrapped around her. He’d thought it was a blanket, brushed her cheek.

Oh, that was kind of cute.

Her eyes fluttered open and she slammed them shut almost at once. “Not so loud,” she whispered.

And Bucky let out a breath and Peter sniffled.

Steve took a pace away from the table and exhaled and even Tony seemed to need a minute. Peter glanced back at her as she lifted her hand.

“Easy, Natalia,” Bucky told her, covering her hand with his.

She managed to open her eyes a slit.

“Hey,” Tony had moved around the bed. “How you doing?”

“Head hurts. Where am I?” She squinted her eyes closed again.

“Okay, we’re going to put your questions on hold a moment,” Strange said quietly. “We need to give you something for the pain. So I need you to tell me on a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?”

“Um…” She licked her lips, then tried to slit her eyes open again. Steve moved to the end of the bed and he put a hand on her ankle. The cloak brushed her cheek again. “Bruised. Definitely bruised.”

“Bruised is one word for it. Can you give me a number?”

“A lot. Can’t hardly think.” 

“We’re going to give you some pain medication, this is based off an anesthetic they developed for Sergeant Barnes.”

“Don’t knock out.” Her voice was so raspy.

“Stubborn,” Bucky murmured.

“Angel, you need to rest, let them ease the pain.”

“Wait…” Her words stopped the doctor reaching for her IV. “Bruce—Bruce was there.”

“He’s fine, Red. Not green anymore. Lullaby worked. Let’s get you fixed up and we’ll worry about him later.”

She frowned. “Fuck my head hurts. What hit me?”

“We’ll talk about that later, too,” Tony told her. “Happy juice time. Sorry, it’s not vodka.”

She actually managed to flip him off and everyone laughed then stopped when she grimaced.

“Sorry,” Peter whispered.

“It’s okay…who is petting my face?”

“Cloaky,” Tony told her. “Your new best friend.”

The cloak flicked a corner at Tony that pulled another grin from everyone. The doctor added the injection slowly. “Ms. Romanoff…”

At the unfamiliar voice, her eyes jerked open and Bucky suddenly let go of Peter and gripped her arm. “You’re in Wakanda, Natalia. A’dyemi is one of the physicians.”

She focused on the doctor and wow her pupils were hugely dilated, then she relaxed a fraction.

“My apologies, Ms. Romanoff, I should have introduced myself first. The medication is very strong. I’ve given you a small dose, I need you to tell us your pain level so we can adapt for your metabolism.”

She blinked slowly. “Better…not…great.”

“Then I will give it another minute and we will push more.”

Steve and Bucky shared a look and Clint finally filled in the gap. As the doctor pushed the next bit, she focused on them one at a time, but her eyes began to drift close.

“Ease up,” Doctor Strange said. Her heart rate and blood pressure were coming down.

“Agreed,” Doctor A’dyemi said. “A full half-dose.” He pulled the needle out and then nodded to Shuri, who pulled the scans up and Peter stared at the 3-D images the girl was manipulating.

“So what do we do now?”

“We wait, Kid,” Clint said. “But she woke up and that’s a good sign.”

Strange exhaled, “Indeed.”

“How long?” Peter asked, clinging to the good sign.

“A few hours, I would imagine,” Strange offered. “We wait. We watch. We give her time.”

“Stevie—I showered. You eat. Then me. Tony, you take the first nap.”

“I’m fine,” Tony started to say, but he glanced at Clint and Peter followed his look then grinned.

“You. Bus. Wheels,” Clint said with a smile.

“I need to talk to Banner.”

“It’s late,” T’Challa said quietly. “I suggest letting Doctor Banner rest for the evening. He will be there in the morning. You will feel better about the conversation as Natasha improves.”

“Fine.” Tony pressed a kiss to Natasha’s forehead then walked over and flung himself down on the sofa. “I’ll be sleeping right here.”

“You might be more comfortable in your suite,” T’Challa suggested, but even when they tried to shuttle Wanda and Peter off, they both refused. He and Wanda grabbed the wider chairs. When it became clear that none of them were leaving, T’Challa offered to have food brought in and then more chairs. He and his sister also stayed.

It was like an impromptu, if awkward sleepover. Someone was always sitting with Natasha, none of them wanted her alone. The only one who truly sat apart from them was Doctor Strange. He sat near Natasha, his trouble expression not eased when he seemed to be meditating. 

Every time Peter stole a look at him, the doctor frowned. Of all of them, he and Shuri hadn’t agreed with the decision to let her wake. They seemed far more reluctant. What Peter didn’t know was why?

**Stephen**

The cloak wouldn’t leave her. It was more than comfort. The threat remained. Relics chose who they helped. The cloak had saved him during his first fight with Kaecilius. It had been his companion, but the cloak also had a will of its own. If it wouldn’t leave Natasha then there was more wrong than her just needing comfort. Letting her wake allowed them to test her cognitive functions. She’d responded well, seemed to grasp their conversation. Positive results.

Meditating, he turned the problem over in his head. What was he missing? Scans. Medical history. Damage. 

What were they _not_ seeing?


	56. Blinded

**Chapter Fifty-Six**

_ Blinded _

**Steve**

The hours trickled past like each tick of the non-existent wall clock stretched to eternity. Tony had finally fallen asleep. Clint was out in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him and head tilted with his chin tucked down and his arms folded. Having seen Natasha sleep like that on long missions, it only served as a reminder of how well those two knew each other. Wanda was asleep, curled against the arm of the sofa.

T’Challa had ushered Shuri out to a real bed using the argument that she would need all her faculties once Natasha was awake. Doctor A’dyemi had also taken a bed in a room close by. Strange hadn’t budged from his meditative position though his eyes opened periodically to check on her. Steve didn’t doubt he was aware of her at every moment.

The cloak remained wrapped around her and it seemed to hold her hands unless one of them was there. The only others awake were Peter and Bucky. He half-expected the kid to conk out at any moment, but even when he’d dozed it had been restless and he kept snapping awake.

It had been a little over four hours since she’d woken and they administered the pain medicine.

Four hours felt like four years.

His chest and back ached as he shifted on the chair next to her bed. Studying her sleeping face wasn’t giving him any more answers. Was it someone gunning for her? Or just the Avengers? She had her share of enemies and God knew the Avengers did.

Still, his thoughts kept circling around one fact. 

_ “Let’s just say I’ve had to deal with a few eager bounty hunters that I thought were only after me for Ross.” The corner of her mouth curved upward. “Turns out a couple of them weren’t. They turned me on to the bounty being offered from London.” _

_ Natasha let out a little sigh. “After…after I left you in the graveyard, I told you I had to rebuild my covers. I did a little traveling, I went back to Russia, I did some cleanup…what I didn’t tell you…was the number of clean up attempts I had to avoid.” _

_ “Dammit, Nat…why didn’t you tell us?” She’d been out there on her own. _

_ “Because you would have come running, and you had work to do. So did Tony, and everyone else. It was my mess and my file. But it wasn’t the first time, I’ve dealt with this stuff for years—and maybe it made me a little blind to what was happening.” She chewing the inside of her lip. _

_ “So you just decided to handle it on your own.” He shook his head. “Not anymore.” _

She hadn’t been out there handling it alone. She’d flowed with the plan, worked as a team. With Clint at her back, then Tony and she’d even gotten through to Bruce. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Steve sighed.

Bruce Banner.

Of all the times for him to show back up.

The guy had been an ally and while The Other Guy had been unpredictable at times, Bruce had been trustworthy. Currently, Steve found himself questioning what he was now. Where had he been and why had he shown up at the precise moment someone was targeting her again? He didn’t want to be suspicious, but Natasha had betrayed him—her words, not Steve’s. Then he’d simply disappeared.

For Natasha’s sake, Steve really hoped Bruce had an explanation or they had a much larger problem on their hands.

The monitor beeping shifted and Bucky and Peter abandoned their seats to join him even as Strange rose. The cloak threaded around one of her hands. That thing was weird, but it didn’t seem to be hurting her at all.

Blood pressure spiked along with her pulse.

“She’s waking up,” Steve said.

“Agreed.” He retrieved the syringe from the cooler. It held the remaining half-dose they’d given her earlier. “Four hours to shed the anesthesia. That concerns me.”

Not words Steve wanted to hear.

“You think her serum is focusing on the anesthesia and not the rest of her,” Tony asked, his voice groggy but growing more alert.

“Possibly,” Strange said. “We may need to wake Doctor A’dyemi.”

“I can do it,” Tony stated. “I’ve handled her IVs before.”

Steve shifted to give him room as Natasha’s eyes began to flutter.

Clint was up, his eyes bleary but growing sharper as he moved to the end of her bed. Peter fidgeted, but Bucky had a hand on his shoulder. At the moment, Steve could use that, too, however, he kept his focus on Natasha’s eyes as her lashes lifted.

“Hey Angel,” he murmured. They wanted to keep the noise low just like they had the lights.

“Hi,” she whispered in a crackly voice. She tried to lick her lips and Strange lifted a plastic cup with a straw. It trembled in his hands, so Steve steadied it.

“It’s water,” Steve told her. She took a small sip and let out a little sigh. Then a longer drink.

“Thanks.” Her voice was still on the hoarse side. “How long?”

“Only four hours,” Strange answered, his expression intent. “Natasha, I have some concerns about the anesthetic we’re using.”

“Yay?” She winced and tried to lift her hand. At the light tug, Steve released her. “Fuck, my head hurts.”

“Yeah, Red, we know. But the doc is worried your serum is trying to flush the anesthetic rather and wasting time on that rather than you healing.”

“Takes time,” she mumbled. “Always has—I can go without… be faster.”

“No,” Bucky stated, his tone an absolute command. “Faster, in this case, isn’t better.”

Strange lifted a hand. “Natasha, I need you to focus on me for a moment. Can you answer some questions?”

“Depends,” she whispered. “Am I getting graded?”

Steve chuckled, then linked his fingers to hers when she reached to where he’d been holding her hand. When she squeezed, he had to keep his touch light.

“Maybe,” Strange told her easily enough. “We need to make some decisions and I need to test your cognitive awareness.”

“Yay,” she intoned. “My head hurts.”

“Well, that answers one question.”

“Did I score high?”

Peter almost laughed, but Clint just shook his head. “Focus, Nat. Not a game.”

“No fun,” she complained then forced her eyes open. Steve held his breath. Her pupils were the size of saucers. “Wow, I must look like crap.”

“You look better than me,” Tony quipped, but she couldn’t seem to stay focused on any one of them for too long.

“Hit me with your best questions Doc, I don’t usually volunteer for interrogations. Or if I do—I’m the one asking the questions.”

“Understood. Do you remember where you are?”

She blinked slowly. “Wakanda?”

The fact it came out a question had Steve gritting his teeth.

“That’s good,” Strange complimented her. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Um… fight—square. Bruce. Something hit me. I fell. Couldn’t move… not much more than that.”

“That’s fine,” Strange told her.

She flexed her fingers against Steve’s.

“Can you give me a number on your pain right now?”

“Sem. Desyat. It comes. Goes.”

Strange frowned.

“She said seven and ten,” Bucky answered, his frown deepening.

“A ten would be excruciating,” Strange told her.

“Not my first concussion.” She closed her eyes.

Steve glanced at Strange. “She needs to know.”

He nodded. “Natasha, the blow you took—it’s cracked your skull.”

The doors to the outside opened and Shuri re-entered with T’Challa a half-step behind her.

“That’s bad,” Natasha murmured. “Steve’s gonna kill me.”

“No, I’m not,” he said. “I’m definitely not going to kill you.”

“Okay—what the hell hit me?”

“.50 caliber,” Bucky told her and she grimaced.

“And I still have a head. Awesome.” Her face tightened and her blood pressure climbed. Tony reached for the hand Steve held and he relinquished it.

“One more moment,” Strange said.

“Hurry, the pain is getting worse.”

“Natasha, can you still focus on me?”

“Da. Ya mogu tebya slyshat.”

“She can hear you,” Clint said.

“In your current condition, we’re going to have to keep you sedated. We could also put you into cryo to help with the pain and the healing while we perform the procedures to correct the damaged tissue.”

Shuri straightened and Steve went cold. A hand was on his shoulder, gripping him but it lacked Bucky’s strength. It took a moment for him to realize Tony had a hold of him.

“Pochemu ty eto skazal?”

“Why did you say that,” Bucky translated.

“Why is she only talking Russian?” Tony asked.

“Pressure and pain, may be hitting the Broca’s area. How many languages does she speak?”

“Klassifitsirovannaya informatsiya.”

“It’s not that classified, Red,” Tony exhaled. “At least seven that I know of. Arguably she speaks smart-ass fluently, too.”

“We’re just getting Russian… that’s fine…” But his focus shifted to the scan Shuri opened. The three-dimensional enhancement showed several areas lighting up.

“She’s bleeding again,” Strange said that almost as a swear.

“Pochemu ty eto skazal?”

“She still wants to know why you said that…” Bucky leaned forward, catching her free hand and ignoring the doctor. “Chtoby zashchitit' tvoy mozg. Chtoby sdelat' protsedury. Oni khotyat postavit' tebya na led. Eto umen'shit bol'.”

“Skol'ko vremeni eto zanimayet?”

“How long?” Bucky asked and his whole expression was tight.

“We don’t know,” Shuri answered before Strange did. “There is now more bleeding, we can try to slow it. The vibranium I gave her has helped. The pain medication is helping. But the damage is significant. Doctor A’dyemi agreed with our earlier assessments.”

“Mogu li ya vspomnit'?”

“Oni poprobuyut.”

“She wants to know if she’ll remember,” Tony said quietly.

“Bucky just told her they would try.”

Steve shuddered.

“Eto povredit Stivu. YA ne khochu, chtoby on videl. YA ne khochu, chtoby kto-to iz vas videl.” Her voice grew a little raspier on the last and Steve moved the water back to her. She’d stopped trying to keep her eyes open. Her pulse pounded and her blood pressure gave another warning.

“She said it will hurt us,” Bucky told him. “She doesn’t want us to see.”

“No way in Hell, Angel,” Steve told her. “You hear me. You go in there, I’m going to be right there. We both will. We’ll be right there watching your back and we’ll be there when you come out.” His stomach churned.

“We all will,” Peter added to the promise and Natasha frowned.

“Red, it’s time for you to go back to sleep,” Tony ordered and Steve didn’t disagree. He brushed his hand gently against her cheek.

“Tony’s right, Angel, you need to sleep. Just yes or no—do you want them to do it now?”

Her fluttered open. “Da, solntce moya. Ne smotri.”

“She said don’t look,” Bucky answered his glance. Wanda made a small choked noise and it hit Steve that Peter had tears running down his face.

“I’ll be there, Angel. You’re going to be just fine. We’ve got your back.” Before she could argue, he nodded at Tony who already had the syringe attached and he started pushing the anesthetic.

Gradually, her expression smoothed over as the lines of pain faded. Her vitals all restored to normal and Bucky’s whole body shuddered. The cloak wrapped around Steve’s hand where he’d been holding her arm and Steve frowned.

The silence in the room was almost eerie.

“Mr. Barton,” Strange said quietly. “It’s my opinion she was cognitively aware enough to make that medical decision.”

Steve closed his eyes.

“Do it,” Clint said. Wanda sniffled again, but Clint had an arm around her. “You’re sure this is going to work, right?”

“Yes,” Shuri said with confidence.

“I believe it’s our only alternative and our best opportunity,” Strange hedged his answer.

But Steve wasn’t alone in looking at Tony. He’d disconnected the now empty syringe. “As much as I hate the idea. If the anesthetic is strong enough to keep her down and she’s shedding it at this rate, it probably is the serum, which means it’s distracting from where we want it focused.”

“Did you ever find a way to combine the blood serums?”

Tony shook his head. “I had an idea, but I haven’t had time to execute it yet.”

“I’ll give you whatever you need,” Steve told him.

“So will I,” Bucky answered.

“This is a good idea, but we need to prepare everything now, so that when she wakes the next time we are ready to move her into the cryo chamber. That gives us just under four hours.”

“You want her awake when she goes in?” Peter’s voice cracked.

Tony squeezed Steve’s shoulder then moved away to wrap an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “Come on, Pete. We have some work to do and I’ll explain this to you. Every step.”

Strange nodded then looked at Shuri. “You have my notes?”

“I do, Doctor A’dyemi also reviewed them. He agreed with the steps you want to take. Have we discussed how we are placing the sensors for Mr. Stark’s device?”

“I’m fairly certain that’s what he’s working on now.”

“Wanda, let’s go take a walk. I need to call Laura,” Clint said. “You two are staying, right?”

Steve nodded. They weren’t getting him away.

“I’ll be back.” Clint gripped his shoulder and then Wanda surged forward and Steve returned her hug.

“She’s going to be fine,” he told her, as much for her as himself. “You heard her. She knew where she was and what was going on. She was even trying to look after me.”

“Yeah, a regular pain in the ass,” Clint commented as Wanda gave a weepy little laugh. She let him go and then glanced down at her.

She whispered something in Sokovian and then kissed Natasha’s cheek. Clint patted Bucky’s back.

“You two need to hold the line.”

Steve nodded. When they left it was just him, Buck, T’Challa, Shuri, and Strange.

“Perhaps we should give them some time,” T’Challa said and Steve nodded to him.

Strange frowned, then glanced at them. “I’ll be across the hall then.” He looked at Natasha. “Come get me if there are any changes.”

The cloak flapped a corner at him.

Then those three were out and it was just him, Bucky, and Natasha.

“I was only in cryo for a few weeks,” Bucky said, his tone solemn. When he reached across Natasha though with his right hand, Steve grasped it. They each held one of her hands and she was so damn still.

“I know. I’m not really ready for her to spend a few weeks on ice.” The whole thought made him sick.

“No,” Bucky said. “But she has all these doctors who know what they’re doing.”

“And Tony,” Steve said. “She said the cold encourages her serum.”

“We’ve been boosting it.” The last Bucky added with a small smile. “That’s something.”

Steve sighed. Yeah. It was something. 

_ “Tony is explaining to me why we should be having all the sex with Natasha.” Steve couldn’t believe he was even having this conversation. Or that Tony bringing up their sex life and sexual activity didn’t feel more awkward. It wasn’t comfortable, but it also wasn’t as weird as it could be.  _

_ “I didn’t say all the sex,” Tony retorted. “I said you should probably resume sex as soon as she could tolerate the contact.” _

_ “Because that sounds so much better,” Steve replied, rolling his eyes. Though there was a bare hint of humor in Tony’s eyes. _

_ Shaking his head, Bucky finished filling the tree bucket with water. _

_ “Is that just Steve or are you including me in this advice?” Bucky asked as he returned the pitcher to the kitchen _

_ “Well, I assumed she was double-dipping so yeah, you’re included. But he has the primary serum.” _

_ While Tony had said and done some outlandish things over the years, he’d been dead serious when he brought up sex. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am so going to regret asking this. Why are you telling us this?” _

_ “Because Red’s DNA is adaptable. After The Mandarin stabbed her, she was almost one hundred percent healed from a wound that went straight through her midsection in three days, maybe less. She recovered from repeated tortures including drowning and even right now, a little over twenty-four hours after we got her out, all of those cuts and wounds have already closed. Her neck, which was trashed with that damn collar, looks almost fifty-five percent better.” _

_ “So, you’re encouraging sex because it will help her heal faster.” Surprise filtered through Steve. On the island, she’d been so drawn and worn out. God, had she been frustrated with them. But after the night they finally gave in and played for hours—she’d begun to surge. _

_ “It has helped her heal faster. I think it’s also why she’s remembering.” _

_ Bucky jerked. “The episodes.” _

_ “Breaking the memory blocks. Remember what Cho said, the chances were that her body would have long-since healed if she hadn’t been repeatedly damaged?” Even if Tony framed it like a question, he wasn’t wrong. Helen had said that exactly. _

_ “She also said that it wasn’t that Natalia couldn’t get pregnant it was that she couldn’t sustain it—and that she had was because of me.” _

_ “I figure that let her have the baby and probably why she didn’t go through extreme memory recovery, there may not have been as much lost then too.” Tony locked gazes with Bucky. “And yes, I know it’s strange that I’ve spent this much time thinking about the two of you having sex with her. But…three-way super-soldier serum, Red gets stronger, she recovers faster—her brain begins to repair itself— _ just like yours did _ .” _

“I’m glad you boosted it at the cabin.” Which felt about as strange as Tony discussing their sex life.

Bucky eyed him a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as animation bled back into his stony mask. “I like having sex with Natalia,” he admitted and it was Steve’s turn to try and fight the faintly hysterical chuckle bubbling its way up.

“So do I,” Steve admitted. “A lot more than I imagined.”

With a snort, Bucky shook his head. “You imagined it, you just didn’t know it could be that good.”

“Or fun,” Steve said. In Niagara, Natasha had caught him in the shower. The openness and play she’d shown him had been beyond anything he’d imagined.

_ “See something you like?” She asked, but her eyes were closed. Yes, he definitely saw something he liked. His dog tags were right there hanging between her breasts while she washed her hair and the droplets of water skated over every inch of the flesh he wanted to kiss. _

_ “Yes,” he said, the croak in his voice making him wince. “You do not fight fair, Angel.” _

_ “I told you,” she said, turning to give him her back, and his gaze went obediently down the muscled firmness to the curve of her ass. “I fight to win…but this isn’t fighting, solntce moya.” _

_ _

_ _

_ “Good.” She sat up and faced him before stripping off the shirt and tossing it aside. “Remember something for me…you’re not going to fail at this. You’re not going to mess up. And no one is ever prepared for how they feel…sometimes it’s intense, and sometimes it’s just joyful.” She grinned. “Sometimes you’ll laugh because—it’s funny and it feels good.” _

_ _

“Why does this feel harder?” He had to ask. “When The Mandarin had her, we didn’t know if we’d see her again. When the formless took her and even after—she was so damn weak.”

“Or when she let those bastards torture or Ross?” Bucky asked him.

“Yes, why is this harder?” Even as he asked, he stared down into her face. The fact she barely had any bruises showing. The wound hadn’t broken her skin and they hadn’t done anything to move her hair. No, she lay there like some princess in a Disney movie and all they had to do was kiss her and wake her up.

If only it were that simple.

_ “You ever worry something is too good to be true?” The quiet question made her laugh. _

_ “Every day.” She pressed a kiss to his chest just above his heart. “Need me to pinch you?” _

_ “No,” he assured her. “I don’t want to wake up if this is a dream. I’m happy right here.” _

“Because we can’t fight this one.” Bucky sighed. “All the others—we were there, we could fight, we could hunt, we could take care of her—this one she has to fight on her own.”

“She has Strange and Shuri and Tony…”

“They’re arming her,” Bucky said quietly. “You and I both know it’s not just the cracked skull and the concussion. It’s what comes next. It’s when they stimulate those injured areas while she’s in cryo—when her conscious mind is mostly awake.”

Steve frowned. Tony had explained that but… “Did you dream? In cryo?” He’d never asked this question before.

“Yes,” Bucky told him and Steve shuddered, squeezing his hand tighter. “Sometimes I dreamed of her. I didn’t know it was her then—but I dreamed about her. My waking mind might have been denied, but my subconscious never forgot.”

When she came out… “Even if she remembers, it may not all be there when she comes out.”

“No, or she might wake with all of it intact. That’s the part where you and I are blind. We can’t see what she sees. We can’t experience what she will… we have to wait.” The loathing in his voice echoed something in Steve’s soul. How long would they have to wait?

He felt like he’d just found her. “I want to be selfish.”

“I know,” Bucky answered him. “So do I. I think we all do. You. Me. Clint.”

“Tony,” Steve supplied.

“Yes and no.’ The response surprised him. “No, he wants to be selfish with her, but he isn’t.”

“True. All he’s done in and around everything else is work on this… he’s been trying to square things for Nat since…” Since he and Clint ran into him in London. Maybe even before then. “She needs this,” he said slowly.

“She does.” His best friend didn’t disagree. “But I need her.”

That single line tugged at Steve and he glanced from Nat’s relaxed face to Bucky’s pained one. “I know you do, Buck.” Steve needed her, too. “This isn’t losing her.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Nope. Drag a big chair in there like I did with you.”

Bucky glared at him. “No one told you to do that, Punk.” But there was a hint of a smile and even tears beneath the irritating.

“Jerk, where else did you think I was going to go? I didn’t leave until I had to go find her.” As much as he told himself he’d been going to find her for Bucky, that had only been an excuse.

“When we were at the cabin, we found a journal Natalia had kept—it had all these entries about Mary’s progress. Observations. She’d kept very tidy little notes.”

Steve could see it. “That sounds like her.”

“Meticulous. She’d read in one of the baby books you needed to monitor cognitive development, so Natalia—she wrote it all down. Day to day, changes—when she lifted her head, her first step, her first word…” Bucky shook his head. “She wrote that she wouldn’t sleep sometimes without me, or that she liked the sound of our voices when we would talk and play with her. All these pieces of her personality that I knew but—Natalia she saw every intricate piece of it.”

God that had to have been brutal.

“She was hurting when you came back.” They both had been.

Bucky looked at him. “She wanted to remember more than she did…”

Steve bowed his head. “We’re going to get through this and we’re going to get everything to settle down, the Accords, the team, and we’re going to find out what happened to Mary Elizabeth…”

“If we find out.”

What had Tony called him? Mr. Positivity? “You’re going to find out,” Steve told him. “Both of you are. The world owes you at the very least one.”

“The world let me have her back, Stevie,” Bucky said meeting his gaze. “I don’t want to trade that for knowing.”

“I know you don’t, but you two are going to find her. I refuse to accept any other answer.”

“Stubborn punk.”

“Damn straight.”

Letting go of Natasha’s hand for a moment, Steve circled the bed and pulled Bucky in for a hug. “I mean it. You’re going to find out. She isn’t putting herself through this for nothing.” Leaning back, he gripped his shoulders. “We’re with her.”

“Yeah.” They both released a breath and glanced down at her. “She’d be giving us so much shit about being saps.”

Steve laughed, leaning into Bucky’s side then Bucky started laughing. Their chuckles covered tears as they stared down at her.

“I think,” Steve said. “This is one time where what she doesn’t know means she can’t tease us about.”

“Yeah. We’re saps.”

“Absolutely.”

He gave Bucky’s shoulders one more squeeze then let him go and walked away. Rubbing his hands over his face, he did something he hadn’t done in a long time. He sent up a little prayer. Let him be right. They damn well deserved it.

**Clint**

He sat on the edge of the bed, phone in his hand. Wanda was in one of the other bedrooms. He’d sent her to shower, she needed to wash her face and clear her head. 

When he dialed Laura’s number, he waited for the phone to connect and tried to do the mental math for the time distance right up until he realized he had no idea what time it was here.

Laura answered on the second ring. “How is she?” Even with the faint slur of sleep in her voice, her first question was about Nat.

“They put her back under because of the pain but she was responding.”

“That’s good, right?” The cautious optimism echoed his own worry.

“Yes, we hope so. They’re going to put her in cryo—and do the secondary procedures she was coming here for.”

“That’s what they were asking you about before…”

“Yeah, but they couldn’t tell me how long and there were other concerns. No one wanted to lean into it, so I withheld consent. Nat gave hers.”

“Oh, Babe…” The soft resignation and warm comfort in her voice dragged at him. “How are you?”

“Worried. They’re all keeping it together. The kids—they’re taking it hard. Wanda and Peter are a mess.”

“Steve and Bucky?”

“Holding up. Remarkably well. But you can tell they are stiff upper lipping it. Determination and stubbornness. But they’re also looking after each other. Tony’s—Tony, but he’s been in a holding pattern until now so I was able to get him to rest.”

“Now, he has work to do.” It wasn’t a guess on Laura’s part.

“Yep. Laur—I don’t know how long we’re going to be here.” The quiet on the other end of the phone fisted in his gut. “I can come back—after—after she’s in cryo. I’ll have to see if they can loan me a jet unless Strange sends me there.”

“Clint, sweetheart, you need to be there for her.”

“I need to be there for you, too,” he said. “We’re supposed to be trying something different.”

“We are,” she soothed. “We are trying something different. We’re talking. I know where you are and I know you need to be there. Vision and Rhodey are on their way back. Sam and Sharon got here a couple of hours ago.”

It seemed days since they left LA but it hadn’t been what? Eight? Ten hours? He’d lost all track. “Did they lock L.A. down? Is it clear?”

“Yes, you all took down most of the fighters and SWAT did a sweep of the rest. At least that’s what the news said. Sharon has pretty much been on her phone since she arrived and Sam was interrogating Friday for status updates because Steve hasn’t been answering his phone.”

“Steve probably doesn’t have his phone.” They’d been on the quinjet when this happened and they’d suited up as soon as they’d begun to divert. The phone was probably sitting inside their lockers. Clint only had his because old habits. Course, considering how shot up Bucky and Steve had been, there was every chance in the world his phone took a bullet.

“So Friday said.”

“How are the kids?”

“They’re good. They don’t know. Friday has blocked all news reports where they might hear it—that’s an amazing trick. I didn’t turn it on until after they went to bed.”

“And now I’ve woken you up.”

“I’m glad you did.” Laura sighed. “Clint, our crazy Russian is the toughest person we know. She’s going to come out the other side of this. She always does.”

That was the problem. What happened the one time she didn’t? Scrubbing a hand over his face, he said, “Gotta have faith.”

“You always have,” Laura reminded him. “You’ve had faith in her from the beginning.”

“You and I both know that it wavered a couple of times.”

“No, it didn’t.” Her indulgent tone lulled him. “You were frustrated and you didn’t quite know what to do, but you never gave up on her and she was  _ and is  _ worth every bit of that faith.”

She never gave up on him either. “I love her, Laura.”

“So do I,” she told him. “So do our kids. You are where you  _ need _ to be. I’ll get Sam to fly us back if you’re not done before the kids have to go to school.”

Fuck.

“As soon as I can…I’m coming there.” He hesitated. “If that’s all right.”

“Babe, yes, it’s all right. We want you there.”

“Laur—I love you.”

“I love you, too. Take care of yourself. I know I told you they all need you and I know you’re looking after them, but look after you, too.”

“I promise. Give them all hugs and kisses from me?”

“You know it. Lila insisted on practicing her bow today. She was hitting inside the second ring.”

Pride fisted him in the chest.

“Don’t tell her I told you, she wants to surprise you. She’s got a good eye.”

Clint grinned. “Did you get a picture?”

She snorted. “Did I get a picture? Who are you talking to?” His phone buzzed and he put Laura on speaker as he switched to the messages. Good form, she was still choking it a little, but she’d gotten a good pull. There was the arrow tucked nicely into the second ring.

“You’re the best.”

“I know,” she accepted graciously. “Now, take care of yourself. Remember, our crazy Russian is a badass, and call me whenever you need me.”

“I will, I promise. They’re—going to move her in four hours, I think after she wakes up from this round of the anesthetic. Once that’s done… I’ll try to sleep.” Not that he imagined he would.

“I’ll be here, Clint. I promise.”

Closing his eyes, he exhaled. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

“We’re trying something different,” she reminded him. “That goes for both of us.”

They talked for a few more minutes, but he’d just hung up when Wanda knocked on the door. He opened it to find her red-rimmed eyes and wan smile. She’d showered, washed away any trace of cosmetics—not that she’d been wearing much—removed all her rings, and changed into a loose top and silk pants. She’d pulled her hair up into a braid away from her face.

She looked twelve.

“Hey,” he said and opened his arms. She flew into them and he braced himself for the impact. “She’s going to be all right.”

“I hate not being able to do anything,” she said with a sniffle.

Fuck, he understood that feeling. “But you are doing something.”

“I’m crying in the shower and trying not to piss off the wizard who is here to help her.”

“Okay, crying in the shower,” he said. “Is a healthy release of anxiety and overwhelming emotions. It’s good to let it out and not bottle it up. Contrary to a certain redhead’s opinions, not all emotions are evil.”

It was the exact right note, Wanda giggled. “She never said they were evil.”

“Oh? You’ve had, in depth, emotional discussions with her?”

Leaning away from him, Wanda wiped her cheek. “Yes and she’s always thoughtful and warm… she makes me feel safe. Even when I had no right to feel safe.”

“I dare you to tell her you don’t have the right to feel safe.” He raised his eyebrows and she slid her gaze away.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, that’s why I’m calling bullshit.” Resting his hands on her shoulders, he tipped his head until she met his gaze again. She really did remind him of Natasha—if he could have found her before seventy plus years of abuse. He had to wonder if Nat saw herself in Wanda? “Everyone has the right to feel safe. If she makes you feel that way, then I’m glad. She would be thrilled to hear it.”

“She’d tease me.”

“Well yeah,” he admitted. “I probably will too, you know, when this is over.” He hooked an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the kitchen to get some water. “You remember that time in Wakanda when you tried to tell me how frustrated you were at being helpless even when you have all this power at your fingertips?”

She bit her lower lip. Yeah, that was what he thought. Letting her go, he went to the sink and filled up a glass before passing it over to her.

“Let me tell you a little secret—we’re often more helpless than we realize because there is always something we  _ can’t _ do. When that happens, we do what we  _ can _ and we trust those around us to have our backs. Natasha isn’t alone. She has Strange—who admittedly is something of a douchebag but a competent one, Shuri, who is…irritatingly relentless in her cheerfulness…”

“I like Shuri,” Wanda complained.

“Never said I didn’t like her, just said she’s relentlessly cheerful.”

“This is true.” She sniffed then took a long drink. “She has Tony, too. He’s—obsessive when it comes to fixing things.”

“Yes, he is. Then there’s Steve and Bucky.”

“But they’re—“

“Stuck just like we are, relegated to support. They have to be there to hold her hand, to encourage her, and to let her know she isn’t alone.” He hadn’t missed her request earlier for Steve and Bucky to not see her go into cryo. She was still trying to protect them.

“And Peter,” Wanda reminded him. “He’s sweet.”

Yeah, she didn’t have to remind him of that. “Uh huh,” he said with a shake of his head.

“He is.”

“I’m not saying a word.” His life was so much easier before Nat started dating all the boys. Now, Wanda was eyeing one. Lila was never going to date. Nope. Not happening.

Red-rimmed eyes or not, she smiled. “Are you okay?”

“Nope,” he told her. “But I know there are people who have my back and hers. So I’ll have theirs.”

Wanda nodded slowly. “Do you think we should pray?”

“Do you believe in a higher power?”

She shook her head slowly. “Not really.”

“Then just put good thoughts out there, Kid. You’d be amazed at what comes just from that. Finish the water up. Do you need something more to eat? It’s probably gonna be a long few hours until she’s in the chamber and I know you didn’t see Bucky when he was in it, but you might want to skip that part.”

“No, I want to be there for Steve and Bucky—they’re both terrified.”

Yeah.

He could have seen that coming.

Peter and Tony wouldn’t be much better. Though Tony might hide it well especially if he focused on the work. That just meant they had to keep a closer eye on him. Course, once Natasha was secure, then they needed to deal with Banner.

“And so are you,” she pointed out almost gently.

No chance he’d deny it. They were talking about his best friend. “Well, then we’re good company.”

If Natasha didn’t come out the other side of this fine, he was going to hunt her down and kick her ass. 

**Tony**

They’d set him up a lab where he could work. Friday came online as they took over the systems and he got the holo screens moving.

“What do you need me to do, Tony?” Peter asked him in a hollow voice taut with worry. The kid had been holding it together.

“Call your aunt,” he told him. “Let her know what’s going on, touch base with her and tell her you’re all right. Then I want you to proof this after me. I need you to focus, Pete. All you have to do is look for anything that looks funny, we’re going to be tweaking S.P.A.R.K. on the fly…”

Peter blinked slowly as his focus gradually sharpened. They needed to be on their A game. Listening to her slip into Russian, even as she’d managed to zero in on the questions had been disturbing. Cognitive awareness was there—that was a profound fucking relief. Natasha might be one of the sexiest women he’d ever known, but her mind was probably the single most intoxicating thing about her.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. Peter still hesitated.

“C’mon, Pete, breathe.” He gripped the teen’s shoulder. “Just breathe. Keep your eye on the prize and breathe. She needs us thinking and acting, not panicking.”

Peter nodded. “Okay. Okay.” With each syllable, he seemed to be visibly getting a grip. “Call May. Then proof the code changes.”

“Exactly.”

Meeting his gaze, Peter nodded. “I’ll be…” He motioned to the little side room.

“Go for it.”

Phone in hand, Peter vanished into what looked like a break room of some kind.

“Boss?”

Tony stared after him a beat. “Yeah?” Taking his own advice, he dragged his attention back to the present.

“Colonel Rhodes is on the line and he wanted to know if you had a minute…”

No, he had no minutes. None. Zip. Natasha needed every minute he had. “Yeah, put him through.” Tony tapped the screen to bring up the code for the failsafe—a switch to try and pull out of a bad memory. She would be in cryo, that meant she couldn’t give them verbal cues. Maybe if they switched it to physiological, Friday could monitor and activate it manually.

Maybe.

“Hey Tony,” Rhodey appeared in one of the screens.

“Honey Bear, it’s been so long. I thought we’d broken up or something. Are we staging a comeback?”

Rhodey snorted. “Something like that. How are you?”

“I’m great. Solving the problems of the world on…” He glanced around. “No coffee. Yeah, okay, Friday, we need to fix that.”

“Coffee maker in the corner, Boss. They set it up for you when they designated this a work space.”

Oh. That was nice.

“Fantastic. How were your holidays? How’s…”

“The holidays were fine, the family is fine, they all send their love and I’m calling to find out how you are. How is Nat?”

“T.B.D. buddy. T.B.D. Got lots to do. Need a favor…” He got the coffee going, still juggling that failsafe section of coding.

“Name it.”

“Pepper is on her way back, she’s fielding press questions, can you throw her a bone? Get a statement out there by the Avengers? Keep it vague and no questions on Red’s actual condition?”

“Sharon’s already taking care of it,” Rhodey surprised him. “She issued it an hour ago. The Avengers do not comment on the status of their members. At this time, we are pleased to announce that despite facing heavy munitions and an inordinate amount of firepower, the team was able to secure the safety of downtown Los Angeles in coordination with the LAPD and their S.W.A.T. division. The perpetrators are in custody and weapons have been seized. We hope you will join with us in keeping the victims and their families in our thoughts and prayers. Good day.”

The recitation was pretty straightforward and lacking in a little pizzazz, but downplaying their involvement might be better.

“Cool,” he said, adding a parameter for bio-functions and vital monitoring to the code. They were going to need to baseline it when she went into the cryo chamber.

“Tony, there are a lot of questions about Banner.”

“Oh, don’t I know it and no I don’t have answers at the moment. He’s currently secure, but we have no comment on where he has been or what he’s been doing—”

“Tones.” The snap in Rhodey’s voice had him circling to meet his gaze. “How are  _ you? _ ”

“Cognitively intact, not nursing brain swelling or being readied to go into cryo to try and restore decades of tampering.”

Rhodey grimaced.

“That’s between you and me, Platypus. Not for public consumption.”

“Done. Can I do anything?”

Exhaling a breath, Tony spread his hands. “Help Pepper. Keep an eye on Clint’s kids. Laura and them are still at the Compound. I don’t know when we’re getting out of here. And when I have answers, I’ll get them to you. Oh—and Friday has added May Parker to the list of authorized, that’s Pete’s aunt. He looped her in.”

“Well, that’s something.” Rhodey frowned. “Not to pile on—Banner is going to be a problem.”

Yeah.

Between Tony and Natasha’s meetings and the stance Tony and T’Challa had taken, they had the high ground with the Committee. Banner’s sudden reappearance while everything was in flux…

“One world breaking crisis at a time and I’m all booked up this morning. Banner has waited eighteen months to show his face, he can wait a few more hours.” Banner could help with this code if Tony could trust him and at the moment… he didn’t. “Hey, Rhodey…”

“Yeah?”

“Even when I went off the rails…granted that happened a lot…but even when I did… how did you know you could trust me?”

“I trusted your heart, Tony.” The answer surprised him. “Your ego? Out of control. Your pride? Inflatable. Your mind? Deadly weapon. But your heart? I don’t know anyone who cares as much as you do even when you were trying so hard to prove you weren’t.”

Huh. “That’s—almost tooth-rotting levels of sweet there, Rhodey.”

“Yeah, good thing I’ve got a great dental plan. You call me if you need me. You call me if you just want to talk… and Tony? This isn’t all on you.”

Maybe not, but a lot of it was. “Gotta go, Platypus. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

Rhodey shook his head, but then the screen went dark and he was gone. Blowing out a breath, Tony poured coffee into a mug and pushed up his sleeves.

It took he and Peter two hours to go over everything with a fine tooth-comb. The nanites would let them get the equipment into her system, another tweak because she couldn’t wear the headset in there. They were also programmed with a kill switch to deactivate as soon as she was done. If no deactivation code was sent, then they’d fail out on their own in thirty days.

Even setting it that long made him ill.

With an hour left to go before she woke, they moved her down to the labs where the cryo chamber waited. The stark brightness was such a contrast to the darker room they’d been using. Shuri dimmed the lights. Huge windows let them look out over the darkened jungle, though the city lights were visible.

Strange was going over the protocols with Shuri again, Peter was hanging on every word. Clint and Wanda were a step behind him, probably as much to follow what was going on as to be supportive.

Bucky and Steve were with Natasha and listened as he quietly explained the nanites and the plan.

“Trust me?” he finally asked, because they were all flying this blind. Blinded by affection. Blinded by the things done to her in the past. Blinded by the possibilities of what they could do now.

“This is the best option?” Steve asked. “ _ You _ think this is the best option?”

As much as he wished he could come up with a better one, Tony nodded. “Yes.”

“Then I trust you,” Steve said.

Bucky was silent a moment longer, his gaze not on Natasha but on the cryo chamber. It had a kind of elegance in its clean lines that Tony hadn’t been expecting. Having seen the brutish vaults used by the Russians, this one was—almost kinder if that was a word that could be applied.

“I wish it was me,” Bucky said quietly. “Wish I could do this for her.” Then he shook his head. “She trusts you, Tony.” He met Tony’s gaze evenly. “So do I. Thank you for the briefing.”

He’d been a little more detailed than necessary, but Tony thought Bucky would appreciate the finer parts of the engineering.

“Do it,” Steve said and Tony moved the injector to her neck.

_ “That’s not looking good,” Fury told him, motioning to his neck. _

_ “I’ve been worse,” Tony blew him off. The hangover was pounding in his brain and every inch of his body was one long bruise. _

_ “We’ve secured the perimeter, but I don’t think we should hold it for too much longer.” That sultry voice slapped him hard enough to knock the fuzz from his mind. _

_ Slanting a look over his sunglasses, he stared at his personal assistant— _ Natalie— _ as she strode up to the table dressed in a form-fitting tact suit and looking sexier than she had any damn right to. _

_ Traitor. _

_ “You’re fired.” _

_ “That’s not up to you,” she informed him as she slid into the booth next to Fury. The bastard wrapped an arm around her. _

_ “Tony, I want you to meet Agent Romanoff.” The introduction and the framing said look, she’s mine and she was there because I said so. _

_ Asshole. _

_ “Hi.” That was the sum total of Tony’s interest in Eye-Patch’s declaration. _

_ Her expression didn’t change overtly, but there was a flash in her eyes. “I’m a SHIELD shadow. Once we knew you were ill, I was tasked to you by Director Fury.” _

_ “I suggest you apologize.” She was supposed to be his assistant. Someone he could trust. Shocking—not—that he’d trusted the wrong person. Again. _

_ “You’ve been very busy. You made your girl your CEO, you’re giving away all your stuff. You let your friend fly away with your suit. Now if I didn’t know better…” _

_ “You don’t know better.” Tony defended Rhodey. “I didn’t give it to him. He took it.” Rhodey was a badass. He didn’t need Tony to defend himself now. _

** _“_ ** _ Whoa, whoa, whoa. He took it? You’re Iron Man and he just took it? The little brother walked in there, kicked your ass and took your suit?” He looked at Natalie. “Is that possible?”  _

** _“_ ** _ Well, according to Mr. Stark’s database security guidelines, there are redundancies to prevent unauthorized usage.” The cool tones aggravated him. Of course she knew, she’d reviewed the database security guidelines? Had she been planning to steal one for herself? _

** _“_ ** _ What do you want from me?” _

** _“_ ** _ What do we want from you? What do you want from me?” He motioned to send Natalie away. Tony was almost sorry to see her ago. “You have become a problem, a problem I have to deal with. Contrary to your belief, you are not the center of my universe. I have bigger problems than you in the southwest region to deal with.” Before Tony could ask, Natalie was back and leaning next to his side of the booth, “Hit him.” _

_ She gripped his head and put an injector at his neck. Shit stung like a bitch and sent ice and fire ripping through his system. Relief rushed along behind the pain though. _

** _“_ ** _ Oh, God, are gonna steal my kidney and sell it?” Tony demanded as she tilted his head, her green eyes assessing the black crosshatch rash on his skin. “Could you please not do anything awful for five seconds? What did she just do to me?” _

** _“_ ** _ What did we just do for you? That’s lithium dioxide. It’s gonna take the edge off. We’re trying to get you back to work.” _

_ Holy crap, the burning ache in his veins cooled for the first time in weeks.  _ ** _“_ ** _ Give me a couple of boxes of that. I’ll be right as rain.” _

** _“_ ** _ It’s not a cure,” Natalie warned him. “It just abates the symptoms.” _

** _“_ ** _ Doesn’t look like it’s gonna be an easy fix,” Fury challenged him. _

** _“_ ** _ Trust me, I know. I’m good at this stuff. I’ve been looking for a suitable replacement for palladium. I’ve tried every combination, every permutation of every known element.” _

** _“_ ** _ Well, I’m here to tell you, you haven’t tried them all.” _

“I promise, not going to take your kidney,” Tony whispered, ignoring the faint frown from Steve and Bucky as he pressed the injector to her neck and fired it. The nanites would enter her system and hopefully the serum would leave them alone. That was his only concern.

“Friday…”

“Activating, Boss, they are on their way. Minimal power output, once they’re in place, we’ll go dormant until ready to begin.”

Brushing his fingers to her cheek, he sighed. “Okay. Give me a status check on the glasses.”

An image flashed in the corner. Green lights, all the way.

With five minutes to spare and her eyes already beginning to show movement, they shifted the bed over closer to the cryo tube. The cloak lifted her off the bed without any guidance and floated her right into place.

“You can’t stay in there,” Strange warned the cloak and it wrapped around her tighter. “I know you want to, but you’ll have to watch from out here, just like the rest of us.”

The cloak finally slid free, but remained close. Shuri and the others studied it in fascination, but Tony kept his gaze on Natasha as he fastened her in. The safety belts went across her biceps and chest. Forearms and waist, then her thighs and finally across her lower legs.

“The ring, Bucky,” he murmured and the other man exhaled as he slid it off her finger. Then Tony stroked the bracelets, and they widened and fell off one at a time.

The vitals showed her blood pressure climbing. “Hey Red,” he murmured. “When you open your eyes, you’re in the cryo tube. We just need you to wake up for this part…”

That nauseated him.

He didn’t have to look at Steve to see the fierce expression or the muscle ticking away in his forehead. None of them liked this.

“We’re ready,” Shuri told him. “Once we have her stabilized in cryo, we’ll begin the gentle stimulation.”

Tony nodded. Gentle stimulation.

Maybe gentle compared the chair, but a lot like it, too.

“Nanites are in,” he said, doing his part. “Green light after the first charge, Friday.”

“Understood, Boss.”

Natasha blinked slowly, the lines on her face tensing. Her pupils were only a fraction less dilated than they had been but she still squinted against the lights.

Shuri touched something on her datapad and the lights reduced again. The monitors behind the cryo tube had full scans of Natasha displayed.

“Gotta stop meeting like this,” Natasha whispered.

Steve chuckled. “That’s a good plan. You ready for this Angel?”

“Sure,” she said slowly, then seemed to try and focus on them one at a time. “It’ll be fun.”

“We’re going to be right here, lyubov moya,” Bucky told her. “Take your time, but we’ll be here.”

“Behave,” she said, a faint smile curling her lips. “I expect dancing when I get back.”

Like she was going on a trip. Peter let out a choked sound, but he smothered it and Tony shot him a look of concern, but Steve already had a hand on his shoulder and Wanda clasped his other hand.

The longer they dragged this out the worse it was going to be for everyone. Tony squeezed her hand once and then backed off. He had her bracelets in his hand and he slid them into his pocket.

“We should begin, Ms. Romanoff…” Shuri said. “Are you ready?”

“No,” Natasha answered with a faint smile. “But don’t let that stop you.” She seemed to be tracking a little better. When her gaze collided with Tony’s again, she said, “And no drinking without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll get Cap drunk instead. I’m pretty sure I’ve got some Asgardian mead hidden.”

The corners of her lips tilted. “Pictures or it didn’t happen.”

Steve actually laughed and the sound rippled through all of them.

“We’ll see you on the other side, Natasha,” Strange told her and then nodded to Shuri. The glass tube slid up, covering her. Tony didn’t want to watch and he couldn’t look away. Then Natasha’s gaze lifted from all of them toward the windows behind and the corners of her lips tilted.

Curious, he glanced over his shoulder and he wasn’t the only one. The edge of a sunrise ribboned across the tops of the mountains in the distance.

The hiss of air pulled him back as the ice coated the inside of the tube. This was going to work.

This _had_ to work. He still owed her that long conversation and he planned to collect.

Now, the wait really began.


	57. Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past is present

**Chapter Fifty-Seven**

_Bridges_

**Natasha**

**1939**

_Age 9_

“Natalia…” At the call of her name, she rose and moved out to the circle. They were outside today. Winter’s fierce grip had finally eased. The snow had melted and left them with mud and fresh buds on the trees. Soon the flowers would come, for now, they would get to train in the cool air and the mud.

The first rounds had gone to the older girls while she and the others watched. After the last few months of being trapped inside, they were all eager to enjoy the weather and the air. But the mud was a difficult terrain.

She was paired off against Lada. They were in the same year group, but Natalia remained the smallest among them. Size was not an excuse to lose as her instructors repeatedly told her.

“Your size means they will underestimate you. You must be faster. You must be cleverer. You must want the win.”

Lada glared at her. The others saw it as an insult to be paired against Natalia. Not a real test. She had lost a few fights, but never the same way twice.

“Begin,” the instructor called, his voice sharp and expectant. It was not an order they could ignore. While Lada still glared at her, Natalia raced toward her. The mud would make for slippery conditions when it wasn’t sucking at their feet. She’d slipped her shoes off rather than be trapped by them.

Lada braced for her as if she expected Natalia to leap. Natalia’s jumps were strong, but the ground was too uneven to trust she’d get the height, so she used the mud to slide under, hooking the other girl’s leg and jerking her off balance. Riding the momentum, she caught two fistfuls of her shirt and pulled her the rest of the way down even as Natalia twisted.

They landed with a slap against the mud, Natalia’s knee in Lada’s back and her arm wrenched in the lock.

She couldn’t move. Yet she continued to struggle. Incapacitating their opponents was the goal. So she increased the pressure and when her arm broke—Lada screamed.

“Well done,” the instructor said. “The bout to Natalia.” But still, she didn’t release her. She had not been given the command and to show mercy—well, it was a mistake she would never make in front of a teacher again.

The skin on her back echoed with the stings of the beating she’d taken, a stripe from every girl on the field that day. She didn’t glance around for accolades; she just kept Lada in place. A flash of movement from the corner of her eye adjusted her plans. Natalia slammed her elbow forward into the back of Lada’s head. The reverberation from the blow rocked up her biceps to her shoulder, but the girl went down.

She launched off of her, pivoting in the mud. The sucking sensation pulled at her balance, but she intercepted the knife thrusting toward her and twisted under the girl’s arm. The upward thrust of her fist allowed her to slam it to her throat. One benefit of being smaller than the others, she could maneuver around her larger opponents and get in under their guard. They had longer reach, but she had nimble speed. Unfortunately, her aim was just a tad off and she struck the side of her neck rather than directly toward the trachea.

The grimace on Olena’s face promised retribution as they grappled. Olena pressed her advantage and her knife descended, albeit slowly and the bite of cold steel against Natalia’s skin sent pain and fear screaming along her nerve endings. Olena was stronger than Natalia. She was also bigger.

They tumbled, out of the mud and into the grass. Feet scattered from around them as the other students watched. Not even the teachers intervened. Blood got into her eye and Olena bore down on her with all her weight. Natalia needed both of her arms to keep Olena from plunging the knife downward. It left her open to the shots Olena took with her fist driving into Natalia’s side. 

No.

_ “Your size means they will underestimate you.”_

Locking her legs around Olena, she used her whole body to twist. Leveraging Olena’s greater weight against her with the torque, they toppled over.

_“You must be faster.”_

They still grappled for the knife, but now Natalia leaned her weight into the other girl as she squeezed with her legs, pushing the air out of her lungs.

_“You must be cleverer.”_

She wanted to keep Olena’s focus on the blade so she allowed it to inch forward. Not hard when her arms protested, still, she wouldn’t give up. Olena couldn’t take a deep breath, but she was so focused on trying to overpower she didn’t recognize what Natalia was doing.

_“You must want the win.”_

Natalia was not going to die here. 

When the angle of Olena’s elbows was right, Natalia jerked backward and switching her block to a forearm grip and with Olena’s momentum and thrust, they slammed the blade together into Olena’s chest. It slid right between the ribs. Not deep, but enough that Olena cried out.

Fear fluttered across her gaze as she and Natalia locked eyes. Seizing the blade hilt, Natalia yanked it out. Blood bubbled up from the wound. No call to halt was issued. No call for release.

She sliced the blade right across Olena’s carotid and didn’t look away as the blood spurted out to soak the yellow grass with its hints of fresh green shoots. The light in Olena’s dark eyes faded and Natalia stumbled to her feet, blade still in hand. Every muscle screamed and she was desperate for more air. But she was alive.

She had wanted it more.

She was alive.

She was still smiling when they made her stand still to take a photo.

Her first kill.

Natalia advanced.

Of the fifty-odd girls in her year.

Only forty of them moved on.

Winter’s fierce grip had finally eased. The snow had melted and left them with mud and fresh buds on the trees. Soon the flowers would come, for now, they would get to train in the cool air and the blood.

**1941**

_Age 11_

“What are you doing here, girl?” The man’s hideously accented Russian was a grave insult, but Natalia had a part to play.

“I have come to bring food to the commander,” she offered, holding up a basket with crusty bread and hard cheese.

“Oh?” The soldier flipped back the cloth covering and barked a laugh. He claimed the basket, then seized her arm.

_“The siege of Moscow must break. To do that, we must break them. Eliminate their commanders. Your task is to get to them, do whatever you must, but find the opportunity and end them. Return when the task is completed.”_

“You’re a pretty little girl, why did your parents let you come this close, hmm?” His breath was a terrible thing. Did they eat anything besides their onions and sauerkraut?

“My parents are dead,” she informed him. “I have no one.”

His whole face transformed, a speculative and calculating glee in his eyes. Then a gunshot echoed in the icy air and the side of his head disappeared in shattered bone and spray of blood. His grip on her fell away and she narrowly managed to catch the precious basket before he collapsed in the snow.

Another man approached, this one an officer and he barked orders in harsh German. She knew enough to recognize clean up the body and get a new sentry. Then the officer glared at her.

He asked her a question in German.

The only word she caught was who.

The language lessons for German began three weeks earlier. Her French was flawless.

These men weren’t French.

“I have come to bring food to the commander,” she answered him in Russian and held up the basket of crusty bread and hard cheese.

The man barely spared the food a glance, instead, he gripped her chin. He turned her head to the left, then the right. Something about her eyes fascinated him. Then he stroked a hand over her hair, pulling the pins from the braid to let it fall.

Whatever he said next needed no translation, the tone itself covetous. He wrapped her braid around his hand and called out an order. Someone was already hauling away the body. He walked her deeper into the camp.

The next few hours would be unpleasant or so Madame warned. She was ready and men were stupid and lazy. Once they were finished, they would relax their guard. She had to wait for that moment.

Her escort brought her to the largest tent at the center of their camp—the heart of one of the siege armies. Exactly where she needed to be. More men stood inside, but it was the one seated nearest the hot rocks warming the interior who held her attention.

Narrow eyes.

Cruel mouth.

Vicious features.

Dread curled in her stomach, but she forced herself to breathe.

This was no different than any other training session or fight.

She’d killed four girls in two years. One man.

The trainer had been sloppy or so Madame said, but Natalia passed that assault test while the trainer bled out from the small blade she’d plunged into his femoral artery left him dying.

Thanks to him, she knew exactly what would happen next.

_Blank the mind, Natalia. Remember, your body is the weapon. It is sharp, they cannot dull you with their touch._

The harsh and guttural German flowed around her and when she met the implacably cold gaze of the commander, she gave him a tremulous smile.

Five minutes later, she had him.

Eight hours later, he was dead on his cot, his sweaty, naked corpse displayed as a warning. She stole the dispatch pouch and every shred of paper inside the tent, ignoring the pain rippling through her body. Pain could be ignored. To survive, she had to ignore it.

She had to want to survive.

She did.

It was still dark when she made it to the edge of the camp, but barely, and she left three more dead Germans in her wake. Blood loss threatened to make her weak, but she’d stolen food, too.

Of the twelve of them hand-picked for the mission, only five of them returned.

Three days later, they sent her after the commanders the others had failed to kill.

**1947**

_Age 17_

Nadine Rivers made her way down the hall from the elevator. She’d come to L.A. to try her hand at becoming an actress. And she learned that sometimes in becoming an actress you had to be motivated to deliver in other ways. An interesting theory—but then the world of the west everything could be bought and sold for coins. It was hardly surprising that peddling flesh served as currency here as it did everywhere else.

However, becoming an actress was not why she was at this hotel.

She’d followed her target earlier in the day tracking him back from the Auerbach Theatrical Agency. She followed him into the desert during the fight with a substance that created what looked like a tunnel and had been sucking up items from the street. Even at her distance, the force it exerted could be felt.

That had been an interesting observation. Unfortunately the primary target was not with them. Nadine maintained her distance. Tracking the secondary back into the city, she waited to confirm he was alone. The little coffee shop across the street provided an excellent perch where she could both enjoy a decent cup of coffee and a lovely sandwich.

The sheer volume of available food in the Los Angeles area threatened to dazzle even her. However, she had to stay focused. Nadine Rivers was only here for this one job. Then Nadine Rivers would be left behind in Los Angeles as she returned home and reported in. She would shed Nadine much like she would a second skin. In the last year, she had become rather masterful at these roles.

However, when it grew apparent the secondary target had tucked in for the evening, she made her way into the hotel. As she traversed the corridor, she listened carefully at each door she passed. She knew the room he was in, she just had to make sure that no one was on their way out before she knocked.

Her instructions were very specific. Eliminate the targets. Clean up the mess. Return home. No loose ends. As one of the last five still standing in her year, she was not the only one being tasked with the job. But it was her understanding that she was the only one trusted to take a job in another country. Not that she would ever make the mistake of thinking she was alone. She picked up two tails at the airport. Subtle they were not.

Another tail waited for her outside the boarding house where she had taken a room. The variety of options included a women's only facility so she had taken a room there, largely to get by some cover and to help isolate those following her. Her tails continued to appear. By dawn of her second day in the city, she’d identified all five of them. Even now, two of them were sitting across the street.

Keeping her stroll sedate, she was in no hurry, she walked the entire length of the hall. Based on the time of day it seemed that most of the guests were out to dinner. Convenient. She made her way back towards the door then knocked.

When he opened the door the blond man stared at her surprise on his face. She didn't hesitate, raising the gun putting two bullets in his chest. As he collapsed she stepped into the room, closed the door and stepped over him. She the room, then collected the file and other items. His ID, wallet, and weapon.

It needed to look like a robbery gone wrong. She paused to check his pulse it was sluggish so she waited. It would be a lot simpler if she just put a bullet in his head but it couldn’t look like a professional hit. The target fought to ease across the carpet. A last, desperate attempt to survive. The threat of death could be very motivating.

She did nothing. The amount of blood flowing out of him with every pump of his heart promised he was already dead, he just hadn’t accepted it yet. 

Five minutes later, he surrendered to the inevitable. With care, she inspected the room once more making sure she left no sign of her passage. Her gloves meant she’d touched nothing to worry about leaving trace evidence on. Finished, she stepped out of the room. The large bag she carried covered everything: the guns, the file, the wallet, and the badge allowing her to move freely and without suspicion to the elevator where she encountered a lovely couple stepping out of the room ready to go to dinner. They smiled and they chatted. Nadine Rivers enthused about her first day in Los Angeles.

She couldn't wait to see the sights.

Outside, she continued to the street where she hailed a taxi. She slid inside well aware of her tails hurrying to into their car. She said nothing allowing no one to understand what she knew. She just leaned back and gave the address for the boarding house she was staying in.

The primary target was next, then she would eliminate her tails. Her orders had been specific.

No witnesses.

**1949**

_Age 19_

“What did you do wrong?” Soldat demanded as he pinned her to the floor. His metal hand was locked around her throat, and his right had control of her left knee, the grip so fierce, he threatened to dislocate it.

No amount of pressure would dislodge him. But she still had three limbs free. Striking upward with the heel of her left hand, she caught a glancing blow off his jaw that he seemed to barely notice, but she freed the blade from the sheath wrapped around her right calf while she distracted him.

Sweat stung her eyes as she struck another blow with her left hand and he flexed his cold metal fingers around her throat. Only once had he choked her to unconsciousness. Stubborn, he’d called her when she woke. Stubborn and foolish.

She’d hurt for three days after the brutal workout that followed.

But she hadn’t missed the grudging respect in his eyes or the flash of something else when he mentioned her forcing his hand. He didn’t want to hurt her. Bruises and pain were expected in training, but he didn’t want to inflict real damage.

That—was an unexpected wrinkle. Natalia had never known anyone who didn’t genuinely mean her harm in combat. Of the fifty plus girls who began in her year, she was the only one still living. Her experiences dictated everyone wanted something and making her bleed would hardly stop them.

“What did you wrong?” he repeated in an unruffled tone, but the coolness in his eyes vanished under the underpinnings of a glare. There.

That was what she’d been waiting for. With left knee pinned, she slid her right leg up and threaded it between them, hooking her knee over his arm. She had to be fast. She had to be cleverer. She had to want it.

She couldn’t dislodge him with strength, but the pressure of her leg bent his arm a fraction at the elbow, exposing a rill and she slammed the blade into it. Sparks popped, one burned her cheek but she dug it in and his fingers released her throat, and she rolled, twisting and getting both legs around him as she tumbled him onto his back.

Not once did she lose her blade and she went for his throat, the cold steel pressed there.

“I did _nothing_ wrong.”

Fourteen months of training together.

Fourteen months of sparring.

She won.

His expression morphed, his lips spreading into a smile. The expression softened his face and his cool, implacable eyes grew warmer.

“Well done, Widow.” The crackles from his arm continued to pop, but she didn’t move her blade or climb off him. They were both dressed in workout clothes. In the last three months, he’d stopped wearing body armor to their spars. She had no idea why and she hadn’t asked.

When Karpov paired her with him for training, she had no idea what he could teach her. Her fighting skills were impeccable, her technique flawless and yet—this was the first time she’d beaten him. Pride fisted in her chest.

“Do you yield?” She asked, pressing the blade a little closer.

Soldat’s fleeting smile vanished as his gaze grew more foreboding. “The match only.”

“The match is enough.” She removed the blade and rose. Then offered him a hand. He gazed at it for a moment, then clasped her fingers and let her pull him up. When his arm popped again and continued to hang somewhat loosely at his side, they both looked at it.

She checked the blade for nicks before she slid it back into the calf sheath. He nodded once. “What if I had your right leg pinned?”

A fair question.

She tugged the pant leg up to show her left calf had a similar blade.

“Excellent.” The compliment knocked her off-center. “Well done, Widow. The session is complete. I will see you tomorrow morning.”

With that, he left her and she stared around the training room for a moment then to where he’d disappeared. They had another hour of training left, but they were done?

She won.

That counted for something.

Rolling her head from side to side, she kept any trace of her discomfort from her expression. Her throat and leg would not be the only places she sported bruises. They would be healed by the next day.

They always healed.

Then she got more.

Leaving the training room though, she wondered—and not for the first time—where did Soldat go when training was finished? While this wasn’t a new curiosity, it was the first time she decided she would do something about it.

Tomorrow, she planned to find his room.

He was the closest thing she had to a friend in this place.

Friends should know things.

_Trust no one._

_You have no friends._

_You need no friends._

_Friends make you weak._

_Friends make you stupid._

_Friends will get you killed._

_There is only you, you and your strength._

_You have no place in this world._

Yes, friends should know things. Potential allies should learn them.

And if he was to be her enemy someday, what she learned now could protect her then.

It wasn’t about attachment. It was about survival.

She wanted it more.

**1951**

_Age 21_

Her thigh throbbed as Soldat pulled into the lot behind the hotel. With narrowed eyes, he swept a look over her. “Stay here.” Then he was out of the vehicle and stalking across the parking lot.

Rolling her eyes would be pointless since he couldn’t see her, but she did it anyway. She had other bruises and injuries. The knife had been the worst. Most of them would heal. But they’d made excellent time driving back across the border. The little hotel was in a fairly populous area, better for hiding in plain sight and they had plenty of time before they had to make the rendezvous.

Soldat returned and opened her door, his intentions clear, she slapped a hand to the center of his chest. “I can walk.”

“You are injured.”

“It’s nothing. You are fussing like an old woman.”

His lips compressed. “You are _wounded_.”

“And so are you.” With that, she slapped his right arm where a bullet had grazed him. He hadn’t even bothered to bandage it. His lips twitched, but he seemed unmoved.

“Flesh wound.”

“And so is this. Now get out of my way, mudak.”

If it were possible, his scowl deepened. He didn’t try to pick her up again and she refused to acknowledge that she was sweating by the time they reached the top of the stairs. He’d gotten them a corner room with good exits and located away from the street. Upstairs limited the access, too.

At the door to the room, he nudged her back and went in first. For this, she would wait and watch the parking lot while he swept the room. Inside, she could barely cover the limp as she found the menu on the table. Picking up the phone, she called for service. She ordered easily a dozen things, including a couple of bottles of vodka.

After counting out the bills for payment, she left them on the desk as she began to strip out of her gear. The whole time Soldat’s stare bored into her, but she wasn’t worried about being naked in front of him. He never touched no matter how much he seemed to want.

He didn’t even touch when she offered.

The bruises she sported from getting them inside weren’t pretty. After she’d stripped down, she checked her clothes. Some would have to be destroyed—they were bloody. She stuffed those into a sack. They could burn them somewhere. The rest she folded to deal with after. There were fresh clothes in the bag.

Turning, she found Soldat standing right there, his eyes narrowed. “Why?” He touched two fingers to the bruises above her right breast. She glanced down, it was the shape of a handprint.

She shrugged. “It’s unimportant.”

He dropped his hand and shook his head. “It is more important than you realize, Natalia.” The softness around his eyes had once thrown her, but she had grown accustomed to it. Soldat could not reveal himself around others, but when it was just the two of them? He could be more of a person. It had taken her months to earn that trust.

Years to solidify it. Three to be precise. This was only their fourth mission, but she had already grown to crave the times they could leave it all behind and just do the work.

“I’m going to shower. They will bring food. Give them the cash, and put the food on the desk.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “I know how to receive delivery.”

“Hmm,” she said, then patted his chest. “When I’m done, we can clean up your arm.”

“It’s unimportant.”

Tilting her head, she said, “I will let you stitch my leg.”

His expression shifted, it was almost imperceptible, but she didn’t miss the faint dilation of his pupils. “I will stitch you first.”

“Only if you also take a hot shower.”

His lips compressed. Yes, she kept shifting the rules. But the question was whether he would play. “A shower is not necessary for my maintenance.”

“It is if you will be sleeping with me tonight, you smell, Zhopa.” Then because he was still close, she pressed a kiss to his chin. “And I would very much like you to not smell.”

She was just stepping into the bathroom when he conceded. “After I stitch your leg and _after_ the food has arrived. You must also agree to not open the door while I am in there.”

“The door to the bathroom, Soldat? Or the front door?” She knew what he meant, but when she glanced back she found him staring at her with his mouth open and she smiled. He’d kissed her once. Well, she’d kissed him, but he’d returned the affection.

Since then, he’d maintained a distance and she’d allowed it. If he wanted her, he would have to choose her. That was important.

“The front door,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll leave the bathroom door open.”

A little thrill skated through her, but discipline kept her expression unchanged. “Then so shall I.”

Minutes later, she stood under the hot spray and groaned. Hours in the vehicle had left her stiff and sore. The shower was exactly what she needed and she indulged herself—and her avid audience where he stood, weapon in hand, just outside the bathroom. His attention was divided between her and the door.

Still, she didn’t mind giving him a little show.

Later, after he’d restitched the wound and bandaged it and after the food had arrived, he conceded to take his shower. Like him, she stood guard so he could relax. Though he did not give her a show. He did allow her to tend his arm. Shallow, just as he said, but still, she cleaned it and wrapped a bandage around it. Someone should care when they got hurt even when they couldn’t.

Settled on the bed, she spread out the foods and sampled them—then fed him different ones. He liked about half, but wouldn’t eat more until she’d had her fill. The fact he devoured so much told her they really didn’t feed him as often as they should.

But she liked introducing him to foods.

They split a bottle of vodka and tired crept up on her. He wasn’t going to sleep on the bed, but she coaxed him into joining her—only after he moved the mattress and box spring from the other bed to cover the window and door.

Settled next to her, he folded his hands against his chest and stared at the ceiling. She dragged the blankets over him and he frowned at her.

“It will get cold,” she reminded him. It was always cold at night. “We can share body heat.”

Another frown.

But she had been pushing, so she settled. He lay for a long time and then he extended his right arm. “Come?”

Wiggling, she curled up next to him as he wrapped his arm around her. Tucking her head against his chest, she smiled. This was—bizarre—and they were both being intently careful.

It took them both hours to sleep, but when she did, it was the best sleep she’d had in a long time.

Even better—Soldat was still asleep when she opened her eyes again and it gave her five glorious minutes to watch him unguarded.

**1955**

_Age 25_

The mission had taken two months. Sixty, long, boring and excruciating days. But it was done. The moment she stepped into the small apartment she had occupied for the last few weeks, she knew she wasn’t alone. The blade slipped into her hand, and her other went to the pistol in her purse.

“Natalia…” Three sweet soft syllables from a voice she hadn’t heard in six months. She flew across the darkened living room and he caught her up, then his mouth was on hers and she sank into the kiss even as she hitched her thighs to his hips. He devoured her and without any prompting, he carried her into the bedroom. It took them a few minutes to strip off all their weapons.

He ripped her shirt, but she didn’t care. The skirt tore down the side and she freed his pants. Then he thrust inside of her as she dug her nails into his back. It was fierce and brutal and exactly what she needed.

Sagging against her, he pressed kisses to her throat and then lifted his head to stare down at her. “I missed you.”

“And I, you, zvezda moya. They took you away for a mission—and then you didn’t return.”

“Da,” he said. “It is done. Now I am here for you.”

“Oh?”

He chuckled. “You are to join me for the next mission. I will need you to get me access to several secure buildings.”

“I can do that.” She didn’t care about the details, she cared that she had James back. “How soon do we need to leave?”

“We have three days to wrap your assignment here,” he informed her. “If we cannot, then I will eliminate the target and we will move on.”

Flexing her legs around him, she arched her hips. He wasn’t going soft and she ached to kiss him more. “Three days?”

“Da, it will be enough, yes?”

Laughter bubbled up inside of her. The apartment was still pitch black, she hadn’t even seen him but he was already beginning to thrust again as he kissed along her jaw to her ear.

“I finished my assignment,” she murmured. “I was going to report in when I got back.”

“How fortunate for me,” he drawled suddenly. “We now have three days before we must be anywhere.”

“Whatever will we do with the time?”

He closed his mouth over hers and she soaked in his kiss. They found plenty to do over the next three days and rarely left her bed. Sore, loose, and aching when it was time to leave for the next mission, Natalia hoped they had time at the end of it to make up for the lost months.

If not… that their next separation would be shorter.

**1957-1959**

_Age 27-29_

Two years of being sent into and out of Laos, Vietnam, and Cambodia. As the Americans ramped up their presence, Natalia cultivated resources and built a network to keep an eye on them. The Soldier joined her on several excursions.

**1960**

_Age 30_

Natalia was sent ahead of the Soldier to secure a position at NASA’s research facility. The impending launch of a meteorological satellite and development of their rocket protocols were chief among her targets. The Soldier would be her only contact.

**1963**

_Age 33_

Dallas. She served as a spotter, then moved through the crowds in the aftermath of the presidential assassination while the Soldier cleared the area. Only after she was certain they had apprehended someone else did she continue to her next mission.

**1966**

_Age 36_

Alexei Shostakov was taken from cryo and Natalia was tasked with readying him for service. The Soldier was neither impressed nor thrilled with the scheduling of her time to Arkhangelsk to prepare Alexei and eventually Leonid. Both were designated for attempts at the space program.

They would be assigned as brothers, she would be paired with one as a wife. For once, her job was to be the handler. The Soldier loathed the entire plan, but they could do nothing. For some reason, they needed to be in position.

Alexei won the draw and he took every chance he had to put hands on her. When she broke his, however, he promised retaliation. Once they were in the field, she would have to behave like a wife.

Acting would not be a problem, she reminded him. But what he wanted was in private and she did not have to serve there. The day she left, the Soldier’s expression lingered in her mind for hours. Though no emotion showed on his face, he seemed to catalogue everything about her.

The Soldier would be coming to check on them.

If he found even an ounce of variation it would not end well for anyone. They had been lovers on and off of more than a decade, James trusted her. But he didn’t trust Alexei or Leonid.

Nor did she.

The first month, both men were furiously busy. They’d been in cryo for fifteen years and it took them time to acclimate to the changes in technology and culture. The second, Alexei needed to make several social appearances and that meant bringing his wife.

Leonid’s temper continued to get him into trouble and when he was threatened with expulsion from the program—she made a critical decision in the field. She had the Soldier remove him. An act, James was more than happy to handle.

Awareness of the choice aggravated Alexei because he had to defend his actions against the investigation when his _brother_ went missing. But she counseled him to be patient, he had done nothing wrong and she managed him carefully.

For the most part, he behaved until they were invited to a weekend retreat with the commander she’d received new orders to gather data on. A weekend at a private house where they would be monitored and their behavior dissected.

Unsurprisingly, Alexei turned amorous and he expected her to play along, particularly when it became clear the commander was also a voyeur and he much admired Alexei’s wife.

By inviting him to watch, Alexei closed the trap.

A week later, their mission complete, she broke his kneecaps in an “accident” because he had to wash out of the program.

She never told the Soldier.

It was safer for him to never know.

She had completed the mission. Once they’d returned to Moscow, however, Alexei proved a problem. He had cultivated contacts and along with Leonid soon became favorites of Karpov and she found herself paired with them more often than her Soldier.

Neither of them were happy with it.

**1968**

_Age 38_

Nikita Rastova went _missing_ in late May of 1968. Moscow Police found evidence of a break-in in her apartment. Neighbors reported she was a sweet girl, a university student. No family. Very sad. Among the evidence were fingerprints of a Leonid Novokov. A fellow student at the university was able to give them a complete description. Soon his face was on the news.

The Soldier was sent to collect him and he was returned to cryostasis.

Alexei took the news badly and blamed Natalia. In his fury, he attacked her in Karpov’s office and wounded the general.

He was returned to cryostasis nursing a shattered jaw. He’d failed to notice the Soldier standing in the corner of the room.

By July of 1968, Natalia and the Soldier were paired once again.

**1970**

_Age 40_

Doctor Morozov requested her presence for a month-long marathon of tests and exams. She spent hours in his laboratory enduring endless and invasive procedures. Memories of blue ice being dissolved into her veins accompanied her as he took blood sample after relentless blood sample.

At the completion of every mission, she had to report to him. She had not reported to a physician so often since Federov when she had still been at the Red Room.

Sometimes the Soldier accompanied, more often he did not.

Three times in that year she went to the chair. Three times, James pulled her back.

When she was sent on a months-long undercover assignment, she missed her Soldier save for his monthly check-ins, but she did not miss the tests.

**1971**

** ** _Age 41_

** **

Siberia. June. Pulled late into her assignment, she made the journey to the private facility. The Soldier was not in his right mind she was told. A treatment had gone awry. It took little for her to figure out what they were doing and even less to realize what Karpov meant when he said she had to restore the Soldier. She was the only one he would likely allow to do it.

_Poor James…_

Aware of the numerous eyes on her, she divorced her emotions and shrugged. “I will have to make it a mission for him. He will need to believe he is totally secure. You will not be able to monitor us.”

“Just tell him you have disabled the controls,” Morozov ordered.

“Unless he does it himself to see it complete, his guard will never relax. He is trained to endure for weeks at a time. Do you have weeks, Comrade?”

Karpov snorted. “She is correct. Do what must be done, Natalia. This is your chance to play with the Soldier—let us hope he does not break you as he has the others.”

“I am marble,” she reminded him. “I do not break.”

His slow smirk was disgusting, but she wiped it away with her next remark.

“You will evacuate the facility, then I will lock it down and we will scour it—that will be our mission. If you leave anyone in there—they will not be returned alive.”

Eyes narrowed, the general glared at her but she maintained the same aloofness she approached every mission with. They could take her advice or they could pay the price, it mattered little to her.

“You’re going to let her…” The doctor argued.

“Be silent,” the general ordered. “We will do it the Widow’s way. She has managed the Soldier far longer than any of you here. She knows what will work. But you, my darling Natalia, you have two days. I want him in the chair and ready for reconditioning when this is done and you will likely require it as well. You should not have to be troubled by any shifts in your relationship.”

Too late. But losing a couple of days would be worth saving James.

“As you wish.”

It took her the better part of the day to quiet the fever in his blood and even once he’d spent himself in her repeatedly, he wanted more. Natalia denied him nothing and when he finally collapsed, she promised she would find him.

It took her three days of intense exams and a trip to the chair herself before she was able to—but even with the staticky hum in her mind, she sought him out. Their time was brief before she returned to her mission.

In late July, she returned to Morozov for more tests. The Soldier and she would be deployed soon for another mission. Turkey. At least that one would most likely be more straightforward.

Assassinations were far easier than long-term observations or information gathering. Though she could handle all of them.

The doctor summoned her again in August. He took another blood sample and she endured his physical exam. After he took the samples to the room beyond to “process” them, she studied his office. A pair of file folders sat in the middle, he’d closed them when she’d walked in.

A scan of the room showed no cameras—something she’d noted before—and the doctor himself was hidden behind the frosted glass in his private lab. Crossing to the desk, she flipped the folders open.

Recommendations for terminating James. Recommendations to repurpose her to cryo to restore…

She flipped through the pages of the file. It was extensive, as was his, she had never seen reports like these. Karpov had approved them. After all these years and all their missions, they were just going to eliminate him? Why?

Was that what all these tests had been about?

Closing them, she returned to her position and waited as she turned the information over in her mind. The next mission was already planned. They left in a matter of days. That report suggested they would be separated and James eliminated upon their return. They had been unable to breed him and he was growing more difficult to control.

It took the doctor an hour after she read the files to finally return and his expression could only be described as beatific. Excitement rolled off him in waves. “Your mission is canceled, Widow.”

She raised her eyebrows. Her missions were not his to dictate.

“You will be retasked here for the foreseeable future. Nothing can be allowed to happen to you.” He was almost giddy.

In one hand, he held a vial and in the other a sheet of paper.

“Do you know what this means?” He held up one to show her and she glanced from it to him.

“No,” she said slowly.

“You’re pregnant, Widow. All these months, we’ve been looking for a solution and we found it quite by accident. I can’t believe it—had I realized that was all it would take, then I would have locked you in a room with him myself.”

What was he talking about?

“We have it. Finally, the future. This is what you were always meant for. You will give us a generation of—”

She snapped his neck and caught the vial as he dropped. The piece of paper fluttered to the ground and she studied it.

Pregnant.

Impossible.

She and James had months together on and off. Her assignment had not put her so far out of reach. Their only separation had truly come when he was sent to Siberia for a few weeks and then…

Natalia examined the vial and then the notes. Both would have to be destroyed. She glanced down at the body, then at his lab. It took her a little maneuvering to lift him and carry him in there. He had corpses—several in fact. He kept them in cold storage and used them for some of his work. She stripped him of his identification and clothing, prepped him like one of his experiments, then put him into the cloth bag. After, she stored the notes and files in with him.

There was a freight elevator to the furnace.

Few questioned the Widow. Fewer still would dare stop her even if she pushed a body through the hallways. It was marked for disposal and it had Karpov’s signature on the card.

She’d mastered it over the years.

There were times when she’d been able to help James circumvent the chair. Not as often as she would have liked, but she did what she could.

There was a single worker monitoring the disposal and she dismissed him. If he’d argued, he’d have joined Morozov in the flames.

The vials with her blood and the other samples with her name and James’ went into the flames first. Morozov next. She sealed the files into a red envelope. It was marked for eyes only. She often transported classified documents and no one questioned it.

It took three hours before there was nothing left of Morozov. Three hours for her to think and to plan.

Whether she was pregnant or not, they were going to kill James. She could not leave him here nor could she stay herself. If she was—they would take her child and she had enough experience with what they did to children.

They needed an exit strategy.

When the last of the doctor was ash, she left.

Their mission was less than three days away. They needed to move up that timetable and James needed to be onboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a holiday week coming up in the States and I have family coming in (Thanksgiving) so chapters will slow a bit. I decided to go ahead and post this one. But it may be every other day for a few days.


	58. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve have a talk with Bruce

**Chapter Fifty-Eight**

_Secrets_

**Tony**

The silence draping them as the ice coated her and her eyes closed crashed down like a funeral shroud. But it wasn’t a fucking funeral. Tony tracked the vital signs and Friday reflected the data gathered from their equipment. It matched the vitals on the panels behind her. Heart rate slowed to almost minimal, oxygen saturation high, brain activity…

“Boss,” Friday said. “Metabolic homeostasis has been achieved.”

Shuri glanced at him. “She is stable. Initiating PET and CT Scans.”

Strange, however, studied the EEG readings.

The Wakandan doctor A’dyemo wore a similar expression. The EEG was slow, minimal waves. Sleeping?

“Tony…” Peter said, but Tony held up a finger.

The PET scan also demonstrated minimal activity and the CT scan came up.

“Friday—activate the nanites.”

Folding his arms, Strange blew out a breath. The cloak hovered next to him, it hadn’t gone far from Natasha’s chamber. The PET scan lit up in three areas as the nanites came online. A blip on the EEG.

“I know you are all worried,” Shuri said, glancing at the others standing behind him. They were more than worried. They were terrified.

Tony got it. He was pretty fucking terrified, too. But he’d planned for this contingency. Not for the cracked skull specifically, but for if something went sideways.

The nanites were always meant as a last resort, but they were a perfect delivery system for the original plan while they could be redirected to help manage and support other areas. The vibranium they’d given her seemed to be doing its job.

Nanites were fully online, one hundred percent response.

“However, she cannot feel this. For her, she will sleep.” Shuri gave them a smile.

And likely dream. How much she would actually process while in this state remained a crapshoot. Natasha rolled the dice and she could handle it. No matter how much he might wish otherwise, she could handle whatever her past threw at her.

“We’re ready,” Shuri said.

“Ready,” the doctors concurred.

“You heard them, Friday…” Tony blew out a breath. “Light her up.”

Mentally, he crossed his fingers.

The PET scan shifted as activity increased and her EEG began to increase in speed and volume.

“Stimulation delivered to the first block, Boss. Minor bleeding noted, no reaction from her immune system to reject the nanites.” That was step one. But they had a long way to go.

_Four hours later…_

Peter and Wanda had finally been coaxed off to bed after Tony walked them through the procedure. He answered the same question so many times, he could recite it in his sleep. But they wanted to understand, they needed to. Even Strange unbent the stick from his ass long enough to reassure them.

Steve and Bucky were planted, but Clint had gone to get some sleep after he updated Laura. He informed the super twins at least one of them would be going to take four hours when he came back. They could rotate.

Natasha would never be alone. That was a promise and one Tony supported. The blank look he got from both Bucky and Steve wasn’t promising. Still, Steve seemed less checked out than Bucky and maybe that was a good thing. How much Natasha kept Bucky grounded was not a question Tony wanted answered.

Particularly not if the absence of her opened all the newly stitched and recently healed wounds.

“Status check, Friday,” Tony asked. Strange shot him a look but he hadn’t gone anywhere either so he could shut the hell up. They were—more or less just hall monitors for this part. The technicians in the room had dwindled down to one and he sat behind a glass separator affording the team some privacy. Shuri would come and go as would Doctor A’dyemi.

“No change in the last five minutes, Boss. The bleeds have slowed and tissue regeneration seems to be occurring. It’s moving at a glacial pace. The nanites are helping to bridge the neural gaps, buying time for her to heal. It’s rather remarkable, I can find no other case studies where brain tissue actually regenerates along with neural matter. Heart rate and respiration remain in the desired ranges though there are occasional peaks and the same with brain activity. She’s in a REM state now.”

So she dreamed.

Tony closed his eyes.

_“Tash—how old are you?”_

_“You know they say you shouldn’t ask a lady her age.”_

_And really, she wanted to leave herself open that way? Of course, he would volley back. “Good thing I’m not talking to a lady.”_

_“Ass.”_

_“Every day, and twice on Sundays. How old, Tash? Guess if you have to.”_

_“I don’t know for certain…older than you. Pretty sure.”_

_“Ha, I’ve always liked a good cougar.”_

_“In your dreams, Stark.”_

_“Definitely.” But he was grinning some now. “What’s your earliest memory? Give me something to work with here Red.”_

_“Battle of Moscow—winter, 1941—I remember stuff before then but it’s not tied to a time, just to a place. Moscow I know because I looked it up after I defected.”_

  1. _Tony blinked. “How old were you?”_

_“Still young. We were all given assignments that winter, all of the potential Widows—they sent us to infiltrate Nazi command encircling the city. We were to find the highest-ranking officers and kill them.”_

_“You were a kid, how the hell were you supposed to infiltrate a hostile, foreign military force…?”_

_“Tony.” A bittersweet smile in her voice. “We were beautiful young girls, and they were lonely men far from home. Age didn’t really matter. It was very easy to get in, it was getting out that was hard.”_

_He swallowed bile. “I hate them, Tash…the people who did this to you. I hate them.”_

_“Don’t tear yourself up. It was a long time ago,” she soothed him. “I’m a survivor. It’s what I do.”_

He turned away from the chamber and reclaimed the coffee cup he’d poured for himself earlier. The dregs in the cup were cold.

“Boss, there really isn’t anything else to do for now. Until this area completes, we can’t stimulate the next. It’s going to be hours at the very least.” Friday was trying to comfort him. “You should take a shower. Maybe get some sleep.”

Now she sounded like Natasha.

“Too much work to do. Keep a close eye on her.” He was halfway to the door when Steve caught his arm.

“You’re leaving?” The other man stared at him. Instead of the judgment and recrimination Tony had half-expected to see, which, truthfully, at this point, wasn’t fair to Steve and was a knee-jerk reaction on his part. The intensity in Steve’s eyes, however, did demand an answer.

“Nothing else I can do right now, Steve,” he told him as truthfully as he could. “Nothing I can do until we hit her with the next wave. She’s got to heal this one first and I don’t know how long it’s going to take. We’re benchmarking it now.”

He spread his hands.

“I wish I had better or more concrete things to tell you…”

“No,” Steve said slowly, then glanced at the cryotube. “You told us there would be these lulls where we just had to wait.”

Well, that was damn smart of him.

“Going to get some sleep?” Steve glanced at him again. “You look like hell.”

“I slept some last night. You didn’t. So you first,” Tony retorted. “No, we have another problem I can do something about while I wait for the next stage here. Strange isn’t going anywhere, Friday has eyes on Red—I’m going to deal with Bruce.”

“Wait.” It wasn’t a request, but Steve pivoted and crossed the room to where Bucky sat. They’d carried chairs into the lab and a couple of the sofas. The furniture stood out against the aesthetic, but no one cared least of all the team.

Steve crouched next to the chair Bucky occupied and the other man dragged his gaze of Natasha long enough to focus on him. He frowned, then looked at Tony and nodded slowly. He turned back to Steve and answered him, then Steve stood and gripped him on the shoulder once before he crossed the room to rejoin Tony.

“Coming with?” It was a guess. Well, more of a deduction, but he’d go with guess.

“Yes,” Steve said. “I want to hear what he has to say myself.”

“Just keep the temper in check,” Tony told him as he pivoted. “I can rant at him, he’s used to it. Can you handle the fact he falls into a ‘Natasha’s ex’ category?”

“He chose to be the ex,” Steve answered with a shrug. “His loss.”

Wasn’t that the truth?

“All right then.” Outside the lab, the guards waited for them. “We need to speak to Dr. Banner.”

The man nodded. “This way.”

Rolling his head from side to side, Tony turned over what he wanted to say to Bruce in his head. Most of the sentences began with _what_ and continued with _in the fuck _though there were more than a few _where in the fucks_ occurring to him.

Hands in his pockets, Steve leaned against the wall. His expression was a thousand miles away—or more like a hundred feet up and about twenty feet to the east. Still, they continued their descent.

The palace complex was huge, including a research facility, training grounds and there was vastly more to Wakanda than this place, but Tony hadn’t glimpsed more than what he’d seen out of the windows when they’d caught Natasha’s sunrise.

When the elevator doors opened, their escort lead the way down another well-appointed hallway. Like the one to their assigned suite, this one had the feel of a spa’s meditation area, quiet and restive. There was even the sound of running water and Tony could swear there were chimes somewhere.

“Doctor Banner has asked to be left alone since he entered the suite, but he understood you would be coming to see him.” The guard paused at the end of the hallway where two more waited.

He and Steve split a look. Two guards weren’t going to hold Bruce if Bruce really wanted to leave. As they approached the single set of double doors at the end of the hall, Tony asked, “Do you trust me?”

“What are you planning on doing?”

Tony grinned. “I’m going to be me.”

Blowing out a breath, Steve shook his head. “Just be careful.”

“You’ll be watching my back.” He clapped him the side of his arm. “And I’ve got this.”

He tapped the ARC reactor he still wore.

“Like I said—be careful.” Steve gave him a firm look. “For the record?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, grinning. “I know you love me.”

That earned a snort, but no denial as he hit the button to open the doors. The interior was—larger than Tony expected. The doors let them into an anteroom of some kind with another set of doors on the far side.

Rather than just storm inside, he hit the call button and waited. What time was it, anyway? His eyes were gritty but his mind hummed.

Bruce had a lot to answer for…

_It was late, he’d been trying to work out the power distribution for the upgrades. Removing the arc reactor from his chest gave him more options when it came to powering the suits, but maintaining that distribution was a finer equation that he and Friday had spent three nights trying to compensate for. Friday was good, but JARVIS had been there in the beginning and Friday was still learning the ins and outs._

_The simple fact was the upgrades weren’t going to cut it. He needed a full redesign. Out of coffee in the lab, he headed down to the common room. Banner might have helped him with the power distributions but he’d fucked off who knew where and didn’t seem to be in any great hurry to come back. Pepper wasn’t at the Tower. Tony didn’t think she was in New York._

_In the elevator on the way to the common room, he scrubbed a hand over his face. Where the hell was Pepper tonight? Damned if he could remember. The doors parted and he strolled out, mouth open and ready to ask Friday when he caught the movement on the far side of the room. The common room was bathed in shadows, people were rarely here anymore not since the team moved most of their operations out to the Compound. It gave them more privacy for coming and going than they got here and truthfully, it let Tony keep them at a bit of a distance._

_He was supposed to be retired._

_The fact someone was here and Friday hadn’t sent up an alert, however, gave him a fair idea of who it was._

_“Hey Red,” he said by way of greeting. She was curled up on one of the sofas, a glass in her hand an open bottle of vodka on the table next to her. “Fancy meeting you here.”_

_“Shocking,” she murmured. “What is a girl like me doing in a place like this?”_

_He chuckled and instead of going to grab coffee, he went to the bar and found the scotch. “I was thinking more about how rude it is you got started without me.”_

_“You were busy,” she murmured._

_“Never stopped me before,” he retorted and poured himself a generous measure before heading over to claim the sofa next. “Where’s Rogers? He let you out past curfew?”_

_The slender rise of her middle finger made him grin._

_“Steve’s on his grand quest to find Barnes, he and Sam are somewhere—” She made a motion like away or over. Which was absolute crap. Natasha knew exactly where they were._

_“So the Cap’s away and you came to play. I like it.” He leaned over and clinked his glass to hers._

_“My floor is still mine, right?”_

_“Yep,” he said. “Always will be for as long as you want it.” Everyone else had pretty much moved out. Their floors were still there, but they were mostly back to bare bones with fewer personal items. Natasha had left hers, save for one painting she’d taken out to the Compound. Sometimes Tony wondered if her rooms at the Compound were as spartan as her floor had been when she’d moved in here._

_She lifted the glass in another salute then tossed the whole thing back. They sat in silence, Tony nursing his scotch while she downed another three glasses of vodka._

_Damn the woman could drink. Despite the late hour, though, he didn’t think it was just about drinking._

_Eyeing his glass for a beat, he knocked back the last swallow and let the smooth burn warm his system and loosen up some of the tension. “You okay, Red?”_

_“Always,” she answered. It wasn’t really an answer. It was a brush off._

_“Uh huh.” He refilled his glass. “This about Banner?”_

_They hadn’t talked about it. Not once since Tony limped onto the helicarrier to check in with the team and found out the speedy kid—Pietro—died and Bruce had vanished. The Other Guy was aboard their quinjet in stealth mode and they couldn’t track him._

_“Why do you ask?”_

_“Morbid curiosity,” he said. “Maybe a little friendly concern thrown in. You two seemed to be getting close.” More than seemed and Banner had definitely been nursing a crush. Natasha though, she’d always been harder to read, but the time she spent with him and the care she took—there was definitely something going on there._

_“Shellhead, you shouldn’t get too attached to people. I learned that a long time ago. Just needed a solid reminder.”_

_He frowned. “I only really like about five people, so I think I’m safe.”_

_“But are you attached to those five?”_

_He shrugged. “Yeah.”_

_“I’m sorry.” The fact she sounded like she meant it rolled over him._

_“It’s fine,” he said frowning. “What’s going on, Red? You know the rules. What happens at 2 a.m. stays at 2.a.m.”_

_“It’s ten after three,” she told him idly then a hint of a smile curved her lips._

_“Thank you, Ms. Exact. What happens at ten after three will also stay at ten after three.”_

_Natasha sighed and reached for the bottle. Staring at it for a long time, she said, “Where’s Pepper?”_

_“Ouch. I’m suddenly not good enough, you need another redhead?”_

_Another faint smile. “I just asked where she was, not was she going to join us. You’re still my drinking buddy.” She nudged him with her barefoot and he wrapped a hand around it._

_“Damn Red, you’re freezing.” He lifted his leg and tucked her foot under it and she shifted to slid her toes under his thigh. Yep, even colder than the other one. “Friday nudge up the heat in here.”_

_“On it, Boss.”_

_“It’s fine,” Natasha told him._

_“Hey, this is me…”_

_“I know.”_

_“So talk to me. You haven’t come over to drink in a long time. What’s going on?”_

_She shrugged. “It’s not important.”_

_“Why don’t you let me be the judge of it?”_

_“You ever look back at decisions you made and wonder if they were the right ones?”_

_“Hello, Tony Stark—co-creator of Ultron, have we met?”_

_Her smile grew. “Just having one of those days.”_

_“One of _those_ days,” he drew out the word slowly and then refilled his scotch. “Those days pretty much suck.”_

_With a salute to him, she took another long swallow. He wanted to push her because something was bugging her. He couldn’t put his finger on what, but Natasha would tell him if she wanted to and if she didn’t? He doubted anyone could pry it out of her with torture._

_“She’s in Paris,” Tony said suddenly._

_“Yeah? Paris is nice this time of year. A little damp.”_

_He chuckled. “She went for fashion week, her personal indulgence.” Look at that, he remembered where she’d gone. Maybe he should have Friday send her some flowers? It was already mid-morning there, she was probably on her way out._

_“Fashion week. Sounds fun.”_

_Tony snorted. “I only ever went for the models. Not as much fun when I have to actually look at the clothes.”_

_Her laughter warmed up a notch and she shook her head. “Models are too skinny.”_

_“Pfft.”_

_“Tony, really—where do you hold on?”_

_He grinned. “Looking for tips?”_

_“Oh, I do just fine on my own, thank you very much.” But the smile grew fleeting. “Right up until I shove them off a cliff anyway.” She raised her glass. “Vashe zdorovye.”_

_“I dropped Pepper,” he said quietly. “She forgave me.”_

_Natasha snapped her gaze to him. “Dropping isn’t the same as shoving.”_

_“I thought she died, Red, it’s pretty close.”_

_“I’m glad she forgave you.”_

_“She has lots of practice,” he admitted. “Figure that’s going to last right up until it doesn’t anymore, you know?”_

_“He didn’t want to come…”_

_“What?”_

_“Bruce, when I went to get him in India. He didn’t want to come. He didn’t want anything to do with SHIELD or the Avengers. I talked him into it.”_

_He got that impression when Bruce told her he’d been pretty far removed from the situation on the helicarrier. “We needed him. I’d be dead if he weren’t there. We might all be dead.”_

_A frown tensed her forehead._

_“He could have left after,” Tony said. “But I got him in here, built him a lab and… it was good for a while.”_

_She glanced at him. “It was.”_

_“Then you helped him with The Other Guy, and that was awesome. You got The Other Guy to listen to you and to calm down. It—takes a special kind of person to do that.”_

_She shook her head._

_“Red, it’s okay to care about him,” he said, trying again. Maybe he was just a glutton for punishment. “I mean, I can see the appeal of a genius, after all, and I was taken at the time.”_

_The flicker of a smile and another slanted look. “It wasn’t like that.”_

_“Then what was it like?”_

_“Truthfully?”_

_“Yeah.” If she’d tell him…_

_“I wanted him to like me. I wanted him to like me for me…not for—Natalie Rushman or Nadine Rodan or Nadyia Rochenko.” She stared off into the distance. “I was terrified of The Other Guy after what happened on the helicarrier. When he twisted to face me down in the maintenance area—I could see him turning and I was trying to talk to him but it didn’t matter. He’d been hurt and he was there to get hurt in the first place because I brought him there. All I know is I can’t fight him, no gun is gonna touch him and he had no connection with me outside of being annoyed. So yeah—I was pretty sure I was going to die before Thor showed up.”_

_Tony frowned, curling the fingers of the hand not holding the glass into a fist but he didn’t say a word. If she was talking, he didn’t want to remind her that he was listening until she got it out._

_“Later—he showed up just like you said he would. Which impressed me. This is a guy who has so much power, he could tear the world apart. No one can hold him, he didn’t have to come. But he did. Then he stayed, he started working with you. Started developing more and he really didn’t stay for the fight. I’ve always been in the fight. And I wanted him to like me for me.”_

_She shook her head. “But then in Sokovia, he wanted to leave. He finally trusted me and he wanted to get out of there, but we needed him up there fighting, not running. We didn’t need Bruce Banner, we needed The Other Guy—so I shoved him off a cliff. Then he left.”_

_Refilling her glass, she emptied out the last of the bottle._

_“So there’s the truth. I wanted him to like me for me but I’m not that likeable—Natalie Rushman is better. Nadyia Rochenko—she would have been a much better match for him.” She lifted her glass._

_“I like Natasha,” he said conversationally. “She drinks with me.” He held out his glass and they clinked them together. “I like you for you.”_

_“You think you know me?”_

_“Maybe not as well as I could,” he admitted. “What I know? I like.” Then because her eyes narrowed, he grinned. “Most of the time. Don’t get too comfortable.”_

_And he almost instantly regretted it when she gave him a sad smile and said, “I never do.”_

_Bruce was an idiot for walking away from her._

_She never brought that up again, though they did mention him from time to time._

The whole scene flashed through his mind as the doors slid open and Bruce stood there. He’d changed, showered, and someone had found him a pair of glasses because he fidgeted with them as he glanced from Steve to Tony and back.

“How’s Nat?”

Well that was a decent start, but since he didn’t plan to share real details and Steve had gone stone silent next to him, Tony said, “She’s sleeping and she’s in good hands. Mind if we come in and chat?”

“Yeah—I mean, no I don’t mind.” Bruce backed off a little and paced across the room. It looked like any normal room except the walls were a deep silvery dark color and pure metal. The floor had carpeting of a sort and there seemed to be some furniture. “I don’t really have much to offer. They brought coffee a little while ago, but I prefer tea. So they brought me a kettle.”

“That’s fine,” Steve said. “We’re not really thirsty.”

“Okay,” Bruce said giving them a little smile as he motioned to the little sitting area they’d set up. A bed was in the corner. For the most part, the room was spartan. Bruce could open the doors so it wasn’t a cell, but Tony would bet money there were sensors in the wall.

In fact, as he scanned them, Friday did the same and she identified several. Yeah, he wanted a more private conversation, so he tapped the side of his glasses once. Friday sent an acknowledgement and after one more glance at Natasha’s still steady vitals, he focused on Bruce.

“So… been a while.”

“Apparently,” Bruce said. “I leave and a lot of new people step up.”

Leave. That was a word for it. Bruce came across as a nervous guy because he tended to fidget. Most of the time that was because he was uneasy when it came to reading other people and uneasy could lead to agitation. The guy turned into a giant green rage monster, he didn’t care to be too agitated even if he was “always angry.”

“Yeah, speaking of leaving…” Tony sat forward. “Where you been Brucie? You don’t call. You don’t write.”

“Yeah…” He glanced down at his glasses and then slid them into the pocket of his shirt. “I—I woke up on Madagascar.”

Madagascar. Indian Ocean.

“Didn’t have a phone or money or much else. Not sure where the quinjet went. Wasn’t even sure if we saved Sokovia. I got to Nat and then I was in Madagascar.” His expression shifted a little. He got to Natasha but he skipped the part of her pushing him off the cliff.

Tony didn’t buy that he didn’t remember.

“It’s a biodiversity hotspot there but still kind of poor and there were people who needed stuff—doctors. There were people who helped me out and they spoke French and I know enough to get by so… I… stayed there a while. Try and get my head straight.”

He wasn’t meeting their eyes anymore.

“Okay, so you wake up there, find some new friends, get some clothes—go the route of rural doctor and arrived in California how?”

“Um….”

If he said he didn’t know, Tony wasn’t quite sure what he would do.

“This is all kind of uncomfortable,” Bruce admitted as he glanced from Tony to Steve.

“Well Doctor,” Steve said as he leaned forward, hands clasped. The earnest expression replaced the stony one. “I think I know a little something about waking up somewhere unfamiliar and making the best of it.”

“I guess you would,” Bruce said, but he glanced down. “Anyway, I was there for a while and then I moved on… I was looking for a solution to—you know. Me.”

“You know I’ve always been a fan of how you turn into a giant green rage monster,” Tony told him, keeping his tone conversational.

“So you’ve said,” the other man commented. “I’m not.” Leaning back, Bruce folded his arms. “I’m a threat. I’ll always be a threat—look what happened to Nat.”

The knuckles on Steve’s hands went white. “You didn’t actually injure Nat.”

“I could have,” Bruce stated. “The Other Guy could have… and it doesn’t matter, the point is I’ve been trying to find a solution and before yesterday it had been five hundred and forty-eight days since my last incident.”

Scratching his cheek, Tony squinted at him. “Yoga? Biorhythms? Meditation?” Bruce had tried all of those things. In fact, he used to do yoga _with_ Natasha if Tony recalled correctly.

“No, I… I’ve been working on cognitive changes. Channeling anger is never going to work for me, I’m always angry—so I found someone who teaches a kind of mental discipline. A fortitude. It works.” As positive as his voice was, in the beginning, it slid downhill and he frowned. “I thought it was working. Then…”

“What do you remember before the square?” Steve studied him.

“I—I was—I was at a retreat. We were focusing on creating the proper mental space. Anger management is a state of being. There are Buddhist masters…”

“Bruce… who is we?” Tony didn’t give a damn about Buddhist masters.

“A friend.”

“Yeah, buddy, that’s not going to work for me here. You randomly show up after eighteen months of no word, no contact—no sightings on facial recognition…”

Surprise flickered across Bruce’s face.

“Red couldn’t find you, she put out feelers. Friday and I kept an eye out for you. Nada. Then—boom—there you are. So who is the friend and where was this retreat?”

“Tony,” Bruce eased forward, bracing his hands on the edge of the sofa he sat on. “What I’ve been doing has been working. I know—I know you all have had some issues and Nat’s been in trouble.”

“Oh, do you,” Steve’s comment wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, I do. I wasn’t—for a while…” He exhaled. “I think it would be better for everyone if I just went back to what I was doing. Staying quiet, keep getting a grip on The Other Guy…”

“Yeah, you made national news buddy. With the Accords and everything else, we have to deal with this. There are questions. Now, I can hold them off and I can tell them to get stuffed, but I still don’t know where you were or who your mysterious friend was… and how the hell it got you to the square in Los Angeles at just the right time to come face to face with us.”

Rising, Tony paced away from him.

“And while you were off on your little trip to Shangri-La half the world has been gunning for us… we can’t afford any other, very public mistakes.”

“That’s why I think it would be better if I just went.”

“So, you want us to just take you back to L.A. and drop you off?” Steve’s question was quiet, the doubt echoing loudly beneath that statement.

“Probably not the best idea,” Bruce admitted. “But maybe Tahoe or somewhere in the Sierra Nevada. I could go back to Madagascar—still wrapping my mind around being in Wakanda here and that they have enough of this vibranium to make me a cage. There’s probably a story there.”

“Probably,” Steve murmured. “I think it might be better if you stick around at least until we get this last bit sorted out. The fact The Other Guy was seen is going to make people itchy to find him again.”

People like Ross.

People who had already gone after Natasha to try and control him—or whatever the hell it was Ross wanted to do.

“Okay,” Bruce said. “I don’t want to create more problems for any of you—Germany sounded bad enough.”

Tony faced him. “Yeah, it was a real blast. But we’ve moved on.”

“AndNa—everyone's status?”

“We're Avengers,” Steve said. “There are no charges pending.”

“That’s good,” Bruce said. “Real—good.” 

“Steve, can you give us a minute?” Tony asked.

Rising, Steve nodded. “Want me to wait?” Did he still need backup?

Tony checked Natasha’s vitals then shook his head. “I’m fine, I’ll catch up in a bit.”

“Steve…” Bruce said as Steve reached the door. “You going to see Nat?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

“Tell her—tell her I’m sorry. She got hit because of me and… I’m sorry. Maybe she and I could talk before I go?”

Steve stared at him for a long moment. “I’ll tell her. I’m sure she doesn’t blame you.”

Of that, Tony was dead certain.

Natasha rarely blamed any of them.

Tony was not that generous and something didn’t add up. Like the fact, Bruce sucked at secrets. He wasn’t sharing, but he definitely had one.

“Thanks… um… is she…” He seemed to struggle with the question.

Eyebrows raised, Steve waited. “Is she…?”

“Just—nothing.” Bruce shook his head. “Not important, but I would like to see her.”

“I’ll tell her.” With a glance at Tony, Steve nodded to them both and then he left. The door swished shut behind him and Bruce shifted on the sofa and then rose.

“I’m going to make some tea.”

“Okay.”

Arms folded, Tony waited as Bruce went about the routine of heating some water and preparing his tea. He always treated it like some kind of patient ritual, but Tony could appreciate the need for self-soothing behavior. He’d come a long way in the last few years, he could recognize that shit and even applaud it.

Finally, when he’d run out of ways to avoid the fact Tony remained in the room, Bruce looked at him. “I really don’t have the answers you want.”

“You don’t know what answers I want.” Couldn’t possibly guess either. “There is one answer you can give me, but you’re not.”

“What answer is that?” Some of the tics faded from his mannerisms as he focused on Tony.

“Why?”

Bruce frowned. “Why what?”

“Why stay away? From me? From the team? From Red? Why not let us know you were alive—even if you wanted to disappear to Xanadu and figure out your chi—why not tell your friends you were all right?”

“Because you would have wanted me to come back,” Bruce said. “I wasn’t ready. I’m still not.”

“Then why did you come to the square?”

“I don’t know.” He cut his gaze away. It was a lie.

“You came because Red was there.”

“Tony…”

“What the hell, Bruce? You showed up for a reason. You claim you haven’t had an incident in five hundred and forty-eight days before yesterday, so what made day five hundred and forty-nine so interesting?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce shouted and then stalked away, visibly trying to calm himself down. Agitated Bruce wasn’t unusual, though it was usually more about a lively debate of the ethics in a project that could get him this fired up. “Four weeks ago, I was at a retreat high in the Sierra Nevada. We’d come back to the States because sure I can sit on a mountain in the middle of Tibet and focus on breathing techniques and only see sheep and goats and keep my calm, but would it work around people? So I came to the States. Smuggled myself into the country, got a place up in the mountains and the plans were to take little day trips here and there. Gradual exposure.”

Still didn’t explain…

“But something changed…”

“Yeah and I don’t know what that was. Because the last thing I remember was right before Thanksgiving. I was going to go to the store, it was my first trip and the next thing I know Nat’s talking to me and then she’s collapsing in front of me and Clint’s throwing pants and now we’re here. Happy?”

“Delirious,” Tony said and he still didn’t believe him. “Who’s your friend?”

“Someone who has been trying to help me and I don’t think he needs you or anyone else breathing down his neck. He didn’t have to do anything.”

“Okay.” Tony slid his hands into his pockets and toyed with the bracelets there. “Why do you want to see Nat?”

“Because—she’s a friend. She was hurt.”

“But you didn’t want us to know where you were.” Tony canted his head. “Now you do?”

Bruce sighed. “I’m sorry I left you hanging. I saw you and Pepper aren’t together anymore.”

“Well, at least I know you can read the gossip sections. Try to avoid the tabloids, they never get anything right.” Rubbing his thumb over the bracelet, he added, “Bruce, I want to trust what you’re saying, but you aren’t giving me much to work with.”

“Well that makes two of us,” the other man said. “I think I’m going to finish my tea and meditate for a while. But tell Nat she can come see me anytime. I’ll stay for as long as I can—but I’m not living in this cell.”

“None of us would have ever asked you to do that.”

Then there seemed to be nothing else to say. Tony left him, but Bruce didn’t look up from where he’d taken a seat, cradling the mug of tea. In the anteroom, he turned over everything Bruce said.

“Baby Girl… we need to do a search…”

“You want me to look into all the places he mentioned?”

“Oh yeah. Let’s see what we find when we kick over some rocks.”

“On it, Boss.” Then before he could ask, she added, “No changes with Nat, yet. She does seem to still be regenerating tissue and brain activity remains high.”

Please don’t let her be trapped in some hellish memory.

“Steve make it back down there?”

“Yes, Boss. He and Sergeant Barnes are settled in again.”

Rolling his head from side to side, he debated heading back down there or tackling the next thing on his list.

“Ask them if they want anything to eat, I’ll be back down after I have a shower.”

“I’ll take care of it. You know a nap might be…”

“Don’t start, Baby Girl. I’m not tired.” Frankly, he wasn’t sure he could close his eyes at the moment and not imagine a dozen different horror stories. Bruce was keeping secrets and the idea he lost a month of time and didn’t seem all that upset about it?

No. Something was going on and Tony wanted to find out what before it bit them all in the ass. 

**Bruce**

After the doors closed behind Tony, Bruce sagged and buried his face in his hands. Aware he was likely being monitored; he fought to minimize his reactions. Blowing out a breath, he reached for the tea. He’d tried everything over the years, the last eighteen months had been relatively successful. Or so he thought. But he hadn’t had an incident.

Not before yesterday.

He’d taken the time while in the room to do some research and get caught up on what else he’d missed over the last month. Tony told him to not listen to the gossip, but he definitely wasn’t with Pepper and both he and Steve smelled like Natasha.

Steve especially.

So, what did that mean? He had no idea.

He needed to call Lev, but he couldn’t do that here. Lev would have seen the news, he had to know… damn, he had to know The Other Guy had gotten out.

No, Bruce would wait. He wasn’t a prisoner. After he talked to Nat—he owed her that much after he stayed away. The Other Guy might have been the one to take off, but Bruce made a choice for her when he didn’t come back.

_“I adore you.” The smile in her eyes, the affection in her expression, and the way she kissed him. It intoxicated him and then she shoved him… “But I need The Other Guy…”_

Rubbing his eyes, Bruce sighed. She’d made her choices, too. Taking away his—pulling The Other Guy out. Maybe she did the right thing, the news said they saved almost everyone.

Tony asked him why he hadn’t let any of them know… and Bruce told him part of the truth. But not all of it.

He couldn’t tell them.

Not now.

A couple of hours after their visit, he still couldn’t get back to his calm so he took a walk. The guards escorted him outside and he turned his face up to the sun. He was still out there, half-meditating, when a scrape of a foot caught his attention and the faint scent that reminded him of Natasha tickled his nose. It wasn’t quite right, but…

Blinking, he turned, half-expecting to see her. The kid stared at him.

Parsons?

Perkins?

Parker.

“Doctor Banner.”

“Mr. Parker,” he said with a nod.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not,” Bruce turned his face back to the sun. He was seated on a rock, his legs crossed and his head tipped back. Breathing exercises were a mental illusion he clung to.

But the kid didn’t leave.

Focusing on his breathing, he hoped the kid got the hint. Bruce sighed internally. He could almost feel the questions rolling off the kid. The kid who seemed to have become a part of the team.

Maybe he could just wait him out and the kid would move on.

That was a good plan.

He was just a kid. No harm there.


	59. Nexus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter talks to Bruce and Natasha's memories continue

**Chapter Fifty-Nine**

_Nexus_

**Peter**

He’d given up on sleep when he snapped awake for the third time on the same dream—the one where Natasha disappeared into the sludge as he went zipping upward. She’d locked that thing around his wrist and it took him a minute to realize she’d let him go. Then she was just gone.

After a shower, he’d ventured out of the room to find the common area of their suite quiet. If he listened, he could hear Clint’s faint snores and in another room, Wanda’s softer, breathier notes. He paced the suite for a few minutes, too restless to sit still. There was food left over from the lunch they’d shared so he scarfed down meat and cheese in a rolled bit of flatbread, then wandered out.

There were guards at the end of the hall. “Is there somewhere I can go just—to be outside for a little while? I need to move.” He thought about asking for a gym, but maybe fresh air would do it. His escort took him to a gallery-like room that opened onto a garden or at least outside. There was another guard there already and it didn’t take Peter long to figure out why.

Dr. Banner had taken a seat on the flat top of a boulder. His head was back, his legs crossed and he looked like something right out of a meditation book. Folding his arms, Peter considered him after the doctor said he wasn’t interrupting.

The silence trickled past as Peter shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The humid air teased his face. When he’d left New York, it had still been under a heavy blanket of snow despite the sun trying vainly to peek out. In fact, Peter thought as he squinted upward. It had been a while since he’d stood in a pool of sunlight.

But Natasha was still cold and that just pitched his mood sideways, so he focused back on the doctor.

“Um… Dr. Banner?”

The man seemed to sigh with his whole body. “Yes, Mr. Parker?”

“You can call me Peter,” he said. The Mister Parker always threw him. Even when Friday did it.

When the doctor didn’t say anything, Peter edged forward.

“Um, I was wondering if you minded if I asked you a few questions?”

He had dozens, really. Literally dozens, but he wasn’t sure how to give voice to all of them.

“If I did?” The response wasn’t unexpected. Still…

“Then maybe just a couple of questions?”

The man went still and then shifted to look over his shoulder at him. His brows drew together in a frown. “You know who I am, right?” Discomfort etched into every part of his demeanor, but Peter got awkward. He wasn’t the most confident when it came to talking to strangers either.

“Yes, you’re Dr. Bruce Banner, you hold expertise in biology, chemistry, engineering, medicine, physiology, and nuclear physics. You developed the gamma bomb and an accident irradiated you and created The Other Guy—but you survived it. You were responsible for tracking the Tesseract when Loki disappeared with it. You—well The Other Guy—saved Tony when he fell from the wormhole and you fought to defend New York from aliens.” Peter paused a beat, then added, “After you broke Harlem, but it’s mostly repaired now. You also developed theories in antiproton collisions that haven’t been matched or disproven. According to Tony and Natasha, you also helped create the Vision matrix and Ultron, though the former is a lot better result than the latter. You disappeared after Sokovia, but now you’re back.”

During his recitation, Banner had shifted until he faced Peter and his expression went from bemused to puzzled.

Done, Peter cleared his throat.

“Okay,” Banner exhaled the word. “What did you want to ask?”

“In your estimation, is there a reason why accidents result in biochemical changes in some individuals but not others? I mean, if you were to alter someone on a genetic level, what would be the best transport system to get the information you wanted to deliver where you wanted it to go?”

Peter had figured out enough over the last few days to realize what some of the failed tests in Tony’s lab had meant. He’d been trying to break down the serum components in Steve and Bucky’s blood to help Natasha. She had the serum, but theirs was stronger. Or maybe just different. It was not a simple thing to quantify.

“I mean you altered yourself on a genetic and subatomic level, right? The exposure to the gamma radiation—it alters and enhances. Your physiology responds to the changes but it also developed a secondary personality—arguably a personality that’s likely a manifestation of your id magnified as your physical body is while your superego and ego are kept in check, whereas now, your id is contained.” Peter shook his head. “Sorry, getting off track. I want to know if there’s a viable delivery system to encourage the recombination of basic genetic components without significantly altering the base DNA—so someone doesn’t…”

The doctor studied him with an expression that reminded Peter of his teachers at school. He’d just asked him an unexpected question and the doctor wasn’t sure whether he would answer it or not. Peter doubted it relied on _could_ answer. Banner was supposed to be one of the most brilliant scientists in his respective fields today. So he likely _could_ answer.

But would he?

“That’s an interesting question, Mr. Parker…”

“Peter,” Peter corrected him.

“_Mr. Parker_,” Dr. Banner emphasized then shifted. “Why are you so curious about what is essentially human experimentation, a morally and ethically gray area for most people much less a kid?”

Peter opened his mouth then snapped it shut as he considered his own answer. Finally, he settled on what Natasha had reminded him of on several occasions. _The best lies are rooted in the truth. You don’t tell a total fabrication, you merely edit what you say to reveal only as much as you need. _“It’s not about experimentation it’s about studying what _is _possible.” All true. If he could help Tony with the serum recombination maybe they could help Natasha.

_“I know we’re doing presents in the morning,” he said. He’d been so nervous about these presents right up until they’d spent the day shopping, getting pictures with Santa, and then the sleigh ride. The ballet hadn’t been bad, but he’d liked it more because Natasha had seemed so happy. Now back up on her floor, he was ready to do this. “That’s really cool. But—that’s with everyone and these are for just the two of you.” Licking his lips, Peter took a deep breath and then said, “My life has gone through a lot of changes in the last couple of years. Not all of them good. In fact, some of them have been pretty awful.”_

_He locked his gaze on Natasha and the warmth in her eyes held nothing but encouragement._

_“Sometimes, sometimes I thought it was never going to be good again or that I would never get it right. I don’t always get it right now—sometimes I get it epically wrong. Like not listening to orders and going into burning buildings with alien entities.” Looking to Tony, he added, “Or pursuing the Vulture even when you kept telling me not to.”_

_He ducked his head at Tony’s faint smirk and absolute absence of irritation. “I don’t always listen, but I am trying to learn and I’m going to keep learning everything you guys teach me. You—found me, Tony. You brought me into this world and you introduced me to Natasha and Natasha—you’re the best teacher I could have ever hoped for. But you’re an even better friend. And like I said yesterday, you remind me of my mom and sometimes—Tony, you make me think of a cross between my dad and Uncle Ben.”_

_Tony cleared his throat and his posture shifted. Guilt stabbed at Peter, he hadn’t meant to make him feel bad. But Natasha caught his gaze and gave him a small smile. Buoyed, he pressed on._

_“Then Friday told me about the changes you guys are making to the room back there and adding a lab and more stuff so I’m comfortable here. Giving me a second home.” He looked back and forth between them. “Anyway—what I’m trying to say—is thank you and I love you both.” They were the easiest words he’d ever admitted and all the panic of wanting to tell them faded away._

_Then he held out two bags toward them._

_Letting the cloak down, she rose and took the bags, then wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the presents for the moment. The hug was nice. It was better than nice and Peter clung to her. When Tony wrapped his arms around both of them tears burned in Peter’s eyes, but he swallowed and tried to stuff the emotion back down even if he was shaking._

_“You’re not so bad yourself, Kid,” Tony told him. “And I’m pretty sure I’m speaking for Red here, but don’t quote me, when I say we love you, too.”_

_Natasha laughed. “Tony can totally talk for me there.”_

_Peter’s grip on them tightened. “I don’t know where I’d be without you guys.”_

_“You’d be fine,” Natasha assured him. Leaning back a little, as Tony loosened his grip but didn’t move away, she met Peter’s gaze. “Trust me. You’re a good kid, a smart one, and one of the best people I’ve ever met. We’re the lucky ones. You make me want to be better.”_

_“Ditto,” Tony told him. “Though admittedly, we really do make you shine.”_

“Just because something is possible, doesn’t always mean you should do it. In fact, more often than not the answer is the opposite.” Which wasn’t the answer Peter was looking for.

“But you’re Dr. Banner.”

The man in question raised his brows. “Which means?”

“You take risks. You push boundaries.”

“Yeah and they haven’t done me any favors.” The doctor was no longer looking at him. “And aren’t you a little young to be trying to solve genetic issues?”

Peter shrugged. “Aren’t you a little old for playing games?”

That snagged the older man’s attention.

“See, it’s not very nice to judge someone by their age, sir. Even if you don’t know what’s going on. I’m not asking where you’ve been or why you left the Avengers. I can tell you that they’ve missed you. Your lab is still there and no one uses it.”

Surprise flickered across his face before Banner looked away again. He fidgeted, folding and unfolding his arms.

“They’ve missed having you there.” But he wasn’t going to go any further with that. “I was just hoping that since you have all those degrees and know stuff that you could help.”

Turning the doctor eyed him. “Help.”

Peter nodded once.

“You came here because Natasha was hurt.”

It was Peter’s turn to shift.

“Yes.”

“You and Wanda came together, but you’re not her brother.”

“No, her brother died in Sokovia.” Maybe Dr. Banner had missed that part. Peter wasn’t sure if it had made the news.

“Oh.” Dr. Banner frowned. “I—I didn’t know.”

“They were twins.”

_“That,_ I knew.” The older man folded his arms. The sun glinted off the gray in his dark hair. That combined with his slacks and a loose shirt, he kind of reminded Peter of a college professor. Though the rope sandals on his feet said hippie. It was a study in contradictions.

Natasha would probably suggest it meant something.

_You know maybe he had no clothes before he came here…_ Peter had seen The Other Guy on the news. Seen how he loomed so much larger than Natasha but she hadn’t shied away or backed off. Nothing seemed to scare her.

“So, how do you know Nat?” 

It was Peter’s turn to shift a little. There were a lot of things he could say. But he went with the one that had been setting in his bones for weeks. She’d gone from ally to potential enemy to teacher to friend and now… “She’s like my mom.”

“Excuse me?” Dr. Banner’s pupils flared. “Natasha…” He shifted back a couple of steps and shook his head. “That’s—you said like.”

Peter nodded. “She’s great. My mom died when I was little, but Natasha’s…Natasha’s the best. That’s why I’m here.”

“Hey Pete,” Tony called from behind him and he glanced back to see the other man standing in the open doors. “Whatcha doing?”

“I was talking to Doctor Banner.” He motioned to the man in question. “I thought since he’s here and he has all those specialties, he could help us with…”

“Doctor Banner is taking it easy, Peter,” Tony told him as he approached. He had his hands in his pockets. He’d changed at some point and his hair was slicked back and damp. Maybe he’d gotten a shower. “We’ve got the rest covered.”

Oh.

Tony didn’t want him talking to Banner.

“He’s—part of the team, right?”

“Haven’t been in a while,” Doctor Banner answered before Tony could. “But if there’s something going on and you need my help…”

Tension seemed to crackle in the air. “We’re good,” Tony told him as he reached them and he settled a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I was just coming to find you. Have you eaten?”

Despite talking Peter, Tony didn’t take his gaze off Doctor Banner.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I grabbed something before I came down.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” It wasn’t a question, so Peter just nodded.

“Tony,” Dr. Banner said slowly. “What’s going on?” He glanced at Peter before focusing on Tony again. “Kid wants to know how to recombine DNA and you’re both worried. Nat’s all right, isn’t she?”

“Told you, she’s in good hands and she’s resting,” Tony said it so smoothly there wasn’t a lie. “You need to just take it easy and keep focusing on whatever it was that’s kept you so busy the last few months. We got this.”

“What’s going on?” Dr. Banner repeated the question. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“You first,” Tony challenged him, the weight of his fingers squeezing into Peter’s shoulder told him to stay quiet.

“Dammit, Tony…” Dr. Banner sighed. “I don’t want to play this game.”

“I’m not playing at all,” Tony countered. “You’re the one who wants to keep your secrets.”

Peter swung his head back and forth between them. There was a lot more going on here than anyone else had told him.

“C’mon Pete,” Tony said. “We’ve got some things we can do…”

He accepted the urging and turned away, still trying to parse what the two men weren’t saying. They were almost to the doors when Dr. Banner said, “Tony wait.”

Pausing, Tony glanced back but he didn’t turn.

“Is Nat really okay?”

“Do you really care?” The challenge in Tony’s voice couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

“Yes.”

“Then tell us what’s been going on so we can trust you,” Tony said. “I wouldn’t mind having your help, but I don’t know if I can trust that help at the moment. You’ve been making some questionable choices.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

Tony turned and Peter twisted to find Dr. Banner just a few feet away, his eyes intense and his frown deepening.

“She had a fractured skull, which would be bad enough. But…” Now he flicked a look to Peter then back to Tony. “I’m familiar enough with some previous medical incidences to know she’ll recover from that fine unless there was underlying brain trauma.”

While Peter only understood a small portion of what happened to Natasha, he was aware there was definitely underlying brain trauma but not just from the hit she took in Los Angeles.

“I want to believe you,” Tony said, his voice sober and serious. “But right now I don’t and she’s too important to risk on your temper or whatever it is you’re so determined to hide.”

Doctor Banner snorted. “Well, that suddenly explains a whole lot…” The doctor focused on Peter a moment. While he never directly locked gazes he seemed to be debating something. “You’re the spider-kid. You were in Germany.”

For once, Peter didn’t flinch.

“Who Pete is, isn’t important,” Tony told him.

“It is when he says Nat’s like his mom. Nat who can’t have kids—and now you’re calling her important. That’s explaining a lot. Including why you’re not so thrilled to see me back.”

Tony didn’t deny anything and when Peter opened his mouth, he caught Tony’s slight headshake. Apprehension prickled along his back as Dr. Banner’s jaw tightened and he shook his head.

“This is the kind of thing that made me stay away.” He pivoted as though intended to return to his rock.

“Bullshit.” In one word, Tony stopped the other man dead in his tracks and the apprehension tingling up Peter’s spine increased.

“Um, Tony… maybe not such a good idea.”

“He’s got it under control, he’s just sore that he missed out on so much and that we’re not involving him even if he wants to help. One thing I’ve learned over the last six months—transparency with the team—it’s the only way it works.”

“Really?” Dr. Banner pivoted. “Ultron teach you that?”

“As a matter of fact,” Tony said taking a step forward and putting himself between Peter and Doctor Banner. “I should have learned it a long time before. We built Ultron to see if we could, we didn’t tell anyone else. I wanted to build a shield around the world. I still do. It was the right call—Ultron was a terrible execution. Worse, we didn’t tell the team, so they got blind-sided.”

The tension ballooned, but the door opened and a cool, calm voice with British intonations washed over them. “Doctor Banner, it is good to see you again.”

Doctor Banner glanced past Tony toward Vision and his expression relaxed some and there was almost a hint of pride in his eyes. “Vision. It’s good to see you, too.”

The apprehension crawling up Peter’s back vanished.

“Great, you two have a reunion,” Tony said, clapping Peter on the shoulder. “Let’s go, Pete.” The tone said don’t argue so he went along with it and didn’t say anything as they followed their escort back to the lab they’d worked in to get the nanites ready. Once in the room and alone, Tony said, “Friday, secure mode and give us privacy.”

Peter braced for it, half-expecting Tony to yell or to lecture, but then he got dragged into a hug. “Kid, do me a favor and give Bruce a wide berth for a while, okay?”

He patted Tony’s back, mystified. “You don’t want him to know about Natasha.”

“No,” Tony said as he leaned away. “For a lot of reasons, chief among them—I don’t know if he’d handle it well.”

“So we don’t trust him?”

“Not right now we don’t and you may have noticed, big green rage monster is a handful and the one person I know who can calm him down is not available, so I’d prefer we keep him calm while I figure out what the hell he’s lying to us about, square?”

“I need to keep him calm, but _you_ were baiting him?” Peter gave him a skeptical look as Tony backed off. “You do see the contradiction, right?”

“Well, I’m me and I’ve always pushed him. You’re you and Red will kill me if anything happens to you, ergo—keep your distance. Also—Bucky doesn’t want him anywhere near Red.”

“But if he could help…”

“Big if.” Though Tony grimaced. “We’ve got a lot of great minds on this, we never planned on him being here and I’m not planning on it right now. But can you do me a favor and keep your distance?”

“Just don’t look like I’m keeping my distance?” He hoped it would earn him at least a small smile and it worked. Some. “How is she?”

“The same, sleeping in cryo, the first tissue burn worked and she’s healing. We just have to wait it out and then we do the next one.”

“That’s—crazy,” Peter said, trying to wrap his mind around it. “Impossible. People don’t do that.”

“They don’t look twenty-five when they’ve lived for over eighty-six years, either. But if you haven’t noticed, Red’s pretty special.”

Yeah. He’d noticed.

“Okay, I’m going to do some work in here—you’re welcome to join me or you can head over and see Bucky and Steve.” Which meant going to where Natasha was. He wanted to see her, but he needed some more time. It was hard to see her like that. Still. Cold. Sleeping was almost too kind of a word for it.

“I think I’ll stay here a while,” Peter said. “If you could use the help.”

“Yeah, kid, I can definitely use the help.”

“Tony? She’s going to be all right, right? When she comes out? She’ll remember us and everything?”

“I hope so, Pete. That’s the plan. The plan’s to let her wake up remembering everything she lost. But we’re not lost to her, we’re right here and we’re going to be right here until we get her back.”

He liked that plan.

**Natasha**

_1971_

_Late September_

James pulled the vehicle off what served as the main road onto some gravel. The ruts made it a bouncing ride, but she braced her hand as he checked in front of them and then behind and finally stopped the vehicle. Ahead of them was a lot of tall grass. Driving the hot engine over it might set it on fire. The air was pleasant and crisp.

Still, she studied their surroundings after they got out of the vehicle. The silence pressed in. Then a breeze ruffled the trees. A pop and sizzle from the engine had both of them checking beneath. No grass brushed the undercarriage. Rising, she headed back toward the road. A half dozen steps brought it into view. It wasn’t so much a road as a climbing grade with just barely enough room for two cars to pass each other.

The map said the road ventured upward another half a mile maybe, but there were no developments farther up the mountain. Since she’d just purchased a few hundred acres, there wouldn’t be.

“Natalia?”

A breeze ruffled the trees and one by one, the sound of birds returned.

She glanced over her shoulder at James. “We’re going to have to scout.”

With a nod, he extended his hand. She took it and they followed the rutted road. The gravel faded into the grass. The cabin, they’d been told, had been built about ten years earlier. But they’d only used it occasionally. So it was relatively untouched.

She liked that idea.

More, she liked the lack of neighbors. They were fifty miles from the closest town. Isolated. Unlikely to be tripped over. Peaceful.

Not that she believed they were free. They would never be totally free, but they had vanished and for now, she would take that.

They hiked steadily, following the incline. The cabin they’d purchased was well over a mile off the mountain road and not directly accessible by vehicles. The man who built it hadn’t wanted visitors. There were suggestions for how they could excavate and add a road—neither of them wanted to do that so they’d nodded politely and moved on.

James studied the rocks where the land cut upward, but she studied the trees and the way they leaned together in here. If they could reduce the footprint of the grass some, they could camouflage a structure with these trees and hide their vehicle. That would give them another measure of safety.

“Can you climb?”

She pivoted at the question and studied the rocks, then him. “Of course, I can climb. I’m not infirm.”

The flat look he gave her made her grin.

“Do I look weak to you, zvezda moya? Did you think I’d have to scurry onto your back so you could carry me?”

“I would.” The simple offer undercut her teasing and she brushed her fingers down his cheek. The bite of stubble scraped at her skin.

“I know you would, but I can climb. Do you want to go first to find the best route?” The fact his eyes lit up at her request said it was very much what he wanted to do.

“Stay,” he murmured, then he was already on his way. It wasn’t a hard climb so much as one that required they move at an angle, easy between the rocks and up. It would make it challenging for anyone coming directly at them.

Another plus.

While he was distracted, she slid her hand over her abdomen. Morozov’s words had been a surprise at the time. An impossibility. A part of her discounted it and yet, she hadn’t hesitated to eliminate his threat. The threat he posed to James and to her. Pregnant.

What did she know about children? They were easier to kill than adults. They trusted far too swiftly.

They were vulnerable.

Tightening her hand against her abdomen she gave herself another moment for the self-indulgent pity then forced it away. They had limited time to prepare this hideaway and she’d picked up research materials. The subtle changes she’d begun to notice in the last twenty-nine days were harder to mistake. Somehow, the impossible had been made possible.

No matter what happened, she’d die before she let them have this child. James returned to the edge and glanced down. “Do you have it?” The quiet call made her smile.

“Yes,” she answered. Of course she had it. She scrambled up the same way he had gone, moving ever at the diagonal to take advantage of the land itself, near the top, he extended a hand and she caught it. He pulled her up and caught her against him as she wrapped her free arm around his neck.

He kissed her, soft and gentle. A touch of a breeze against her neck and the lightness of his mouth on hers was more a promise than a demand. “We will have to do some modifications,” he told her as he lifted his head. The weight of his gaze on her as much a caress as his mouth had been.

“Then we will do what we must.” She scraped her nails lightly against his nape and then looked beyond him to the cabin.

A lot of work—perhaps—but they were more than capable. As she drank in her first view of it, she exhaled a long breath. Snug in the trees with the leaves turning radiant colors around it, the log cabin beckoned like an old friend.

Even as she dropped her hand to her abdomen again, she caught herself and closed her fingers into a fist. Work first…

James set her down and then led the way. He would want to clear it before she went inside. They were both armed and there were no sounds from anywhere other than the birds and the rustle of the wind through the trees. He was already checking sight lines.

Waiting on the porch, she looked out over the valley. Truly spectacular... still, she looked to where she knew the road would be even if it was invisible from this angle.

Would they ever be able to stop looking behind them?

_December_

The snow had been coming down for an hour and James was not back yet. They’d had a couple of storms already, but this one had been holding off for the last couple of days and James wanted to get one more hunt in. He’d spotted elk the day before and had gone out today to bag one.

Two things Natalia had discovered she disliked about pregnancy. The first was the shift in her center of gravity. While she had no put on a lot of weight, there was a definite change she had to account for when she moved, particularly over uneven ground. Dancing had helped and James kept a section of the living room cleared for her whens he wanted to practice. As before, he never failed to join her when she began to move and he always watched, her most avid audience.

The second was the fact her emotions kept wandering. Compartmentalizing was an important facet of her survival, but she was literally pacing to the window over and over to scan the horizon as if he would appear just because she looked. It was ridiculous and frustrating.

She’d nearly cried an hour earlier and for no appreciable reason whatsoever. The night before when James had been kissing her belly, the tears inexplicably burned in her eyes. He was fascinated with the rounding it had done and the bump beginning to show. Almost as fascinated as he’d been when he noticed her breasts had swelled.

Men.

A laugh escaped her. That label applied to most of the male species, but not to James. For all his stubbornness and protectiveness, he’d never treated her as other men had.

_Safe_.

Forcing herself away from the window again, she headed for the kitchen and got the stove going. It would do neither of them any good for her to keep hovering there. The changes they’d wrought on the cabin in the first month had done more than make it habitable, it had offered them creature comforts. The stove let her heat water, electric from the generator James had a knack for keeping running let them roast meats—which was good. They had a good supply of venison. If he got the elk, they would be in good shape at least through the end of the month.

Living away from their handlers—she shoved all thoughts of them away, it was enough she saw them in her nightmares—meant James got to eat his fill and he’d always had a healthy appetite. His coloring had improved in the last few months, his face losing some of its gauntness and his chest had filled out. He’d always been in excellent shape, but pared down to the absolute nth degree.

He laughed more, too.

Dammit… tears filled her eyes and she pressed the heels of her hands against them. She was not prone to weeping. Tears didn’t help anyone. They didn’t save them anything. They just clouded the vision and left her stuffed up and throat sore.

Forcing her breathing to slow, she wrestled with the weight pressing against the center of her chest and then her midsection fluttered.

Natalia stilled.

Another flutter.

Her tears dried and she glanced down at the bump, it was barely visible through the heavy sweater she wore. It stopped. Whatever it was. Maybe she’d imagined it, with her emotions all over the place—

The flutter returned and she pressed her hand over the spot. A hard thump came from the porch. James was back, relief coursed through her. He’d been out hunting, not on a mission. It wasn’t like the elk shot back and still, the solace she took in his return staggered her.

The door opened just as another flutter hit, this one far firmer than the last.

“Natalia?” He called, a waft of much colder air having come in with him. He stomped his feet by the door. Probably knocking snow off.

She opened her mouth and again, the flutter struck her and she stilled. Was something wrong? Was the impossible ending before it had begun?

“Natalia?” He was in the kitchen, the chill rolling off him as his voice deepened and she lifted her gaze to meet his. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know…” The flutter happened again and she tried to think past the ridiculous weight of emotion. “I think…”

She caught his right hand and pressed it to her belly and when the flutter hit her, he nearly jerked his hand back and then looked up at her. “Is it healthy?”

What had the book said? Movement between sixteen and twenty-five weeks? She wasn’t sure exactly how many weeks she was but surely… “I think he’s moving.”

“He?” James’ eyebrows rose and he cupped his hand against the spot again.

“Or she, I don’t know, but—I think they’re moving.” They both waited and she almost held her breath, then the kettle began to whistle and they both jerked to glare at it and all of a sudden laughter bubbled up through her.

“Does it hurt?” James asked as he switched off the heat under the kettle and poured it into her cup for her.

“No, it just—felt strange and I didn’t know what it was.” She was not telling him about being near tears. Her loss of control would only worry him. Kettle back in place, he slid his hand over her belly again but whatever had gotten the baby moving seemed to have stopped.

That wasn’t bad, was it?

Gradually, they moved on. James had indeed gotten an elk and he’d taken a while because he’d done the butchering farther out into the woods, leaving the remains for the scavengers who might otherwise go hungry before bringing the bulk back.

The smell as he finished sectioning it wasn’t unpleasant—another wonderful effect, her senses seemed to enhance smell and taste. Fortunately, very little made her sick. While she would have helped, he insisted she go sit with her tea and she pulled out the baby books she’d found on their way here. Between them, she’d already identified a timeline of what was supposed to happen when but she didn’t always recognize all the terms and they were no longer in a position for her to be able to go and research.

If necessary, she’d send James to find a library. They had one in Bozeman, but that was a half-day’s journey and he didn’t like going that far away. Still, the book had been correct about her breasts and the soreness she’d experience, not that it had bothered her. It had also been correct about her increased sex drive, though convincing James she wouldn’t break had been fun.

After he’d cleaned up, James came out to join her on the sofa and he half lifted her and then settled back with her in his lap and she chuckled. “You know I’m just going to get heavier, you may not be able to do that forever.”

The bland look he delivered made her laugh harder and he tapped her nose once. “You are beautiful Natalia and you weigh next to nothing. I can carry both of you quite easily.”

“I know you can, zvezda moya, I was just teasing.” Pride shimmered in his eyes and her heart fisted all over again. The best part of their escape was getting to watch James come to life. More and more, he developed little quirks. He was becoming more him, she thought, without having to hide it away. The softness around his eyes now so very familiar and adored.

The flutter returned and she caught his hand and pressed it to her belly. He frowned, staring down intently. Then it came again. “This is good, right?” The accent to his words sounded more like New York than Russia, but he’d always had that hint of a drawl, when it came it often meant they were sending him back to the chair. But there was no chair here.

Never again if she could help it.

_March_

The baby kicked her soundly and she grunted as she tried to ease onto her side. James moved behind her and then his arm snaked around as he flattened his palm to where the baby’s foot seemed determined to kick her way out. Or maybe punch.

With care, he rolled his left hand against the center of her lower back and eased a knot of tension. A light groan escaped her lips and he chuckled. “Our little one is as stubborn as you kotyonok and very determined.”

“I think they are more like you,” she whispered. Their _little one_ refused to let her sleep, growing more and more active each night.

“Hmm, you were always the trouble maker,” he whispered and nipped her ear even as he found another knot and her whole body seemed to relax under the pressure. The combination of comforting pets seemed to settle the baby down as much as her.

“Hmmph, I was a paragon of discipline. It was you who were always watching me.”

It was his turn to laugh. “You wanted me to watch you.”

“Did I?” She teased and he nipped her throat. “Maybe so… though I never imagined this.”

Never could have.

“No?” His voice grew softer, almost a whisper. “I did—once upon a time long before I knew you.”

Rolling slightly, she turned to her back to look up at him. The soft spit of cold rain hit the roof. There would be more snow she thought before it was over, but the rain today was a welcome change even if it would be a damn mess after and she’d already not left the cabin in more than three months save to take a walk but only with James in attendance. They were both wary of her condition, him far more than her.

“Really?” He’d pictured this? “You imagined this?”

He rose on his elbow, still smoothing his hand over the bump. The strokes had quieted their little one. “Yes. During the war… I used to think when I got home. I would find a dame and settle down, raise a bunch of kids.”

Rarely did he talk about the time before and even then it was always just a quick allusion and then he would change the subject. It had been a long time since the war, for both of them.

“Did—you?” The question surprised her and she gave him a small smile.

“I was raised in the Red Room, James. I had no future. There would never be an after the war for me.”

He frowned. “You were too young to fight in the war.”

“There was no too young.” This was why they’d had to go. “I did my part.” Tracing her fingers down his cheek, she said, “Tell me more about this future dame of yours.”

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “She’s beautiful with red hair and a sassy mouth, but she’s clever, far more clever than I and she took my breath away from the first moment I saw her. I never dreamed she’d pick me, but she’s the only dame I ever wanted to play that part.”

“But what about before? Was… was there a girl at home?” That was a popular tale among the soldiers.

“You are my home,” he said. “If there was some dame then, she wouldn’t have held a candle to you anyway. Like I said, it was—a dream. A way to keep myself going.” He sighed, his gaze going far away. “You should sleep, I can keep the little one quiet and you need the rest.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her belly then looked up at her. The subject was closed for now and yet…

“James, you know you can tell me anything.”

“I know, “ he said. “But there is nothing to tell, Natalia. That foolish boy who dreamed of children and a dame, he didn’t know you. He couldn’t have known the best thing to ever happen to him was yet to come.”

On the far side of one of the worst. At her sigh, he kissed her.

“I regret nothing, Natalia—except stealing you away sooner.”

She laughed. “If only it had been that easy.”

They were both quiet for a while, she wasn’t truly going back to sleep, but it was nice to just lie there together.

“We still haven’t decided on a name,” she said into the silence.

“Hmm… do we have to decide now?”

“Names are important,” she reminded him. “They took yours away.”

“You gave it back,” he soothed.

They’d taken hers, too. Soldat and Widow. “I don’t want to call the baby ‘it’ or ‘the child.’”

“No?” If not for the note of teasing, she might have slugged him.

“If I call it ‘the child’ then I’m distancing myself, eliminating the value of the person for the object, Soldat. Or do you disagree?”

“Kotyonok, I don’t,” he soothed again. “I was only playing.”

But she didn’t want to play on this subject.

“What names do you like?”

She sighed. “All the names I choose sound like covers.”

“Oh?”

“Leila for a girl or Andreas for a boy.”

He grimaced.

“See, they sound like covers.”

“It’s not that, Natalia. It’s just—the name should have value.” Like his name perhaps.

“James for a boy then?” Name him after his father?

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “Steven.”

She frowned. “Steven?”

“Yes, for a boy. Steven. Steven Nathaniel. It’s a strong name, yes?”

“Nathaniel?”

“For Natalia,” he grinned. “He should have your name, too.”

“Steven James Yakovich Romanova Barnes.”

He frowned. “Steven Joseph.”

“Da?”

There was a shyness about his face, but he nodded. “Steven Joseph if not Nathaniel.”

“Steven Joseph.” It was a strong name. “All right. Then we have a name for a boy.”

He grinned. “Mary.”

“Mary,” she rolled the name over her tongue. “Masha.” The more she thought about it, the more she liked it. James continued to stroke her belly and she covered his hand there. “Mary Elizabeth. Both queens.”

Surprise flickered through his expression. “Yes?”

“Hmm, Queen Mary was the grandmother to the current Queen Elizabeth. I think that fitting, yes?”

He chuckled. “For your daughter? Da. A queen for a queen.”

She rolled her eyes, but then he kissed her softly and murmured, “Now will you sleep?”

“Steven Joseph or Mary Elizabeth.”

That shy expression slipped through his eyes again and she squeezed his hand.

“You are all right?”

Lifting his gaze to meet hers, he whispered. “I am wonderful right here with you. But now I want o know if we’re having a Steven or a Mary.”

She grinned. “Soon.”

Very soon, if her numbers were correct. But the soon to be Steven or Mary had finally settled and Natalia yawned.

“Sleep,” James whispered, snuggling close and she smiled. Yes, she could sleep.


	60. Liaison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on and that means a lot of people are getting involved to keep it going...

**Chapter Sixty**

_Liaison_

**Pepper**

“No, at this time the Avengers are making no comments on the appearance of The Other Guy or Bruce Banner in Los Angeles.” Pepper stood in her office, staring across the skyline toward Avengers Tower. She had an excellent view and while she knew none of them were there, it still reminded her of what she needed to protect.

“Ms. Potts,” Christine said, her voice coaxing but carrying the weight of awareness. “We all saw him on the news. We all saw Ms. Romanoff take that hit. You have to understand there are some very real concerns based on the damage The Hulk inflicted not only to the Los Angeles streets but to one of the Avengers themselves—an Avenger he seemed to be listening to.”

“I’m aware of the footage your network has been playing on a loop,” Pepper replied coolly, casting a glance to the monitors on the wall showing the stories on repeat. Pundits had gotten involved and so had the speculation. The only comment from the Committee had been one in support of the Avengers.

Thankfully.

“Well, if we’re not going to discuss the sudden arrival of Bruce Banner and the Hulk after a notable absence, let’s discuss Ms. Romanoff. Can we set up an interview to assure the world she is fine?”

“You just interviewed her a few days ago,” Pepper pointed out. That was another piece in the loops, the Christmas Eve interview that had aired with Tony and Natasha. Steve and Bucky had also been present, though Bucky hadn’t participated in the interview as much, he’d just been there. Christine hadn’t pulled her punches and had tried to get Tony and Natasha on record as a couple—another reason Pepper fielded these calls. Whether they wanted to be public or not, they were both her friends and they didn’t deserve the rampant speculation.

“You’re stonewalling,” Christine stated and Pepper smiled.

“No, I’m answering your questions, you just don’t like the answers. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Do you have any comment at all?”

“Yes,” Pepper told her. “I support the Avengers. They fight the battles we can’t and take risks so we don’t have to. Maybe you should try it instead of tearing them down.”

“Off the record,” Christine startled her. “I do support them. I have nothing but respect for all of them, but the public has a right to know.”

“No, they don’t,” Pepper argued, focusing on the stylized A on that tower. “They _want_ to know more. Because they already know what happened in Los Angeles. The Avengers were called in by city officials who asked the Committee and the Committee sent them. They neutralized a very violent and dangerous street war between rival gangs armed to the teeth. They risked their own lives to help preserve people and property. That’s the story. That should be the _only_ story.”

“Even if the arrival the Hulk marks the return of arguably the most dangerous member of the Avengers? Someone who cannot be controlled? Who can inflict damage like a weapon of mass destruction?”

“Christine? Did The Other Guy do more than tear up some sidewalk in that square?”

There was silence for a beat. “He did injure several members of L.A.P.D.’s S.W.A.T. team.”

“He did—_after_ they opened fire on him with the other Avengers in the field of fire.” The news footage had been very explicit about that. “I believe that would be classified under self-defense.”

“Pepper… c’mon, give me something?”

“On the record? Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Captain Steve Rogers, Sergeant Bucky Barnes, and Clint Barton faced injury to life and limb in an effort to prevent further catastrophic loss of life and property damage in Los Angeles just days after the Christmas holiday. They did so without regard for their own safety and have never nor will they ever seek accolades or rewards for their actions. They are not the news story and don’t want to be the news. They just want to do their jobs.”

Christine laughed. “You do realize Tony has asked for accolades plenty of times?”

“No, he doesn’t. He just says you’re welcome and gives them to himself,” Pepper corrected her. “He has the right to value himself because what he does is valuable.”

“All right, I’ll run with it—and between you and me? Give Ms. Romanoff my best wishes. I won’t say on what so you don’t have to confirm or deny.”

Then she was off the phone. Sagging a little, Pepper blew out a breath. “How many more, Friday?”

“That was the last one, for now, Ms. Potts,” Friday stated. “We have issued the standard statements and most are willing to accept that. Colonel Rhodes has fielded several calls this morning as has Ms. Carter. The blanket statement from the Avengers is also beginning to trend.”

Turning, Pepper picked up her coffee mug and glanced at the television. “And yet all they keep playing is that clip—and then retrospectives on The Other Guy’s history.”

“Unfortunately, they don’t have much other footage on Dr. Banner to use for their speculations.”

“Unfortunately,” Pepper agreed. “Any news on Nat?”

“No changes at this time,” Friday told her.

No changes. So not any worse, but not any better. “Okay, what’s next?” Even as she asked the intercom on her desk beeped. Pressing the button, Pepper said, “Yes, Janine?”

“Mr. Kumar is on the line for you, Ms. Potts?”

Pepper sighed. “Take a message and tell him I’m sorry, I’m up to my neck at the moment.” Avoiding probably wasn’t the best way to handle it since she’d pretty much called the jet and left while he’d been away for less than a day to handle some meetings in London. They hadn’t been scheduled to return until just before the New Year and she’d moved it up abruptly. “And if he needs a ride home, send the jet back for him.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Sitting down, Pepper rubbed a hand over her face and then pulled up her email. She hadn’t looked at it in weeks. The first thing sitting right at the top was an email from Tony with the subject line _I bet you thought I forgot…_

Clicking it open, the presentation unfolded and she leaned back in the chair, mouth open.

The auto-driven car, details, specs, and the words _beta testing commenced and successful_ leapt out at her. The images danced as the design went from idea to concept to actual vehicle, including the vehicle’s navigation through the streets.

It was everything the board could have asked for and more.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. He’d even finished it before Christmas, as promised.

“Boss thought that might make you happy. The updates to the StarkPad are nearly complete, but he has to do the last round of testing. I’ve got those running right now,” Friday informed her.

He’d come through with those. She could shut the board up for another six to ten months at least with these. The car would be everything they could want for the forward-looking and future-thinking direction of the company.

“When he comes up for air, tell him I said thank you and that this looks amazing.”

“I’ll take care of it, Ms. Potts.”

“Thank you, Friday.” Exhaling, she moved the files to a folder for a report she would compile for the board then went on to the next email after a glance at the television screens showed them still playing the same footage. Then she reached for her phone and sent a text to Rhodey.

_Lunch?_

**Sharon**

“…and you can assure me that prior to Los Angeles, none of the Avengers were aware of Dr. Banner’s location?”

“As I stated already, Mr. Secretary,” Sharon said, enunciating each word clearly and patiently. “Dr. Banner has not been an active member of the Avengers since Sokovia. He has had no communications with the team and was considered MIA prior to three days ago.”

“So you said.” While the new Secretary of State didn’t seem like a total dick, his current tone wasn’t friendly either. “Why haven’t I heard from Tony Stark or Natasha Romanoff on this? Hell, even Captain Rogers?”

She had to tread carefully over this topic. “Because at this time, there are some rather urgent matters demanding their attention. I assure you, I am fully briefed on the events of Los Angeles, I have reviewed all of the footage and gone over the reports. I am confident in the answers I have provided.”

“What urgent matters?”

“I’m afraid that’s classified, Mr. Secretary,” she said, keeping her tone even. “In light of the current negotiations, the Avengers were granted certain latitudes when it came to mission status and in this instance, discretion better serves all of our needs.”

“Carter, this is a secure line, if there’s something going on involving national security, I need to know.”

“No line is truly secure, Mr. Secretary and as I said, they are attending to an urgent matter. I will convey your thoughts and your regards in light of the enormous service they have done and they will be in touch at the earliest convenience.”

“And that’s it?” The secretary’s voice took on a dour note. “I suppose if the president calls you would give him the exact same answer.”

“Yes, sir,” she told him. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Secretary?”

“Not at the moment. Good day.” The click in her ear might have been a definitive dismissal but relief swarmed her.

“Damn,” Sam exhaled. “You handled him like a pro.”

Rubbing a hand over her face, Sharon sighed. “That’s not going to hold us long. Tony or Steve or someone has to call these people. They’ll settle down, but I’m not Iron Man or Captain America. I can only run so much interference.”

“Then we send them to Rhodey next.”

Leaning against the wall of her office, Rhodey nodded. “I’ll take the next round. I’ve already settled the Joint Chiefs. Bruce showing up right now is _bad _and it has everyone on edge. Ross is going to start rattling bones and coming out of whatever dark hole he crawled off to.”

“Bite your tongue,” Sam told him. “We do not need that kind of grief.”

“We’re going to get it,” Sharon said, not wanting to agree but… “This is the kind of thing Ross can use to fire people up again. Nothing about Bruce Banner inspires trust or safety. He’s…he’s dangerous.”

“They’re all dangerous,” Sam argued. “You could say the same thing about me.”

“You’re just a teddy bear, Sam, don’t flatter yourself.” Rhodey rubbed the back of his neck and then straightened. His movements had grown more fluid over the last few months. The braces he wore had been modified and refined until his movement was almost natural. It was easy to forget the injury that nearly sidelined him permanently. “Right now, we focus on damage control. Nothing Bruce did can really splash back on us—not even with how Nat was calming him down. If anything, that just shows we can handle him.”

“Well it shows she can,” Sam countered. “But she’s not exactly available for that right now. Have we gotten an update from them? Friday said Steve didn’t have his phone.”

While they’d all been downplaying Natasha’s injuries, they were more severe than they’d cared to share. Severe enough they’d taken her to Wakanda and their medical specialists along with a neurosurgeon in attendance. “No, Laura told me there hadn’t been any major changes. They were in a waiting pattern.” There was more to it than that, but Laura had been editing herself and Sharon wasn’t going to push.

“Tony will call if something major changes,” Rhodey told them. “For now, they’re all where they need to be and we’re going to keep things stable here. He asked for Vision to go out there and help with evaluating Bruce and to help keep an eye on him, so we just do what we do.”

He glanced at his phone then at them.

“You two good here?”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed leaning back in the chair opposite her desk. “I asked Laura if she wanted to go home earlier, but she said she and the kids wanted to be here in case they got back before the New Year. But I’ll take them after if not.”

“Okay—I’m going into the city,” Rhodey said. “Buzz me if you need me.”

“Will do,” Sharon said as the colonel left and then glanced over to meet Sam’s worried gaze. “She’s going to be fine. So are they… we just have to keep it cool.”

“We’re guessing,” Sam pointed out. “You think she’s enhanced. I think she’s enhanced. We don’t _know _if she's enhanced.”

“I know she’s Natasha freaking Romanoff. I know she was a one-woman strike force even without the STRIKE team. She’s going to be fine and they’ll have to show me a body before I believe otherwise.”

He frowned. “That’s a little dark.”

“Have you seen what we do for a living?”

“Yeah, but…”

Raising her eyebrows, she gave him a half-smile. “You be the glass half-full, I’ll be the glass half-empty.”

“Then we’ll be a full glass,” Sam pointed out and she snorted. “What? I’m just saying.”

“You knew Bruce…” Sharon had met him—once. In passing and they’d never had a conversation.

“Not really. I mean, I was in the same room with him a couple of times, but that was mostly when all I was doing was helping Steve look for Bucky.”

“So you don’t really know what if any agenda he might have?”

“Agenda? That guy?” Sam shook his head. “He always seemed scared of his own shadow, nervous guy—uncomfortable in the larger group settings. Course, I wasn’t exactly used to swimming in the deep end either. But no, I got nothing. He vanished after Sokovia. Nat and Steve didn’t talk about him much and we were all training, the new team—getting our shit together. The one thing I do remember—they all trusted him. These aren’t people who trust lightly.”

“No, they aren’t.” She covered her face and sighed. “I’m tired.”

“Then let’s go get some lunch and take a nap,” he grinned. “I’ll even snuggle you so you don’t get cold.”

She chuckled. “Generous.”

“I got your back,” he promised.

“You know what…”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Ms. Carter,” Friday said. “But there’s a member of the Committee on the phone for you.”

Sharon groaned.

“You got this,” Sam told her as he stood, then leaned over and dropped a kiss on her lips. It was almost enough to make her smile. “I’ll go find you food and then make up an emergency to get you off the phone if you’re still on it when I get back.”

“I might just have to keep you,” she warned him.

“That is the goal.” He winked and she stared after him a beat before reaching for the phone.

“This is Carter…”

**Maria**

Maria Hill studied the satellite footage. Charting where they’d found the downed quinjet in the Indian Ocean, the distance to Madagascar and then checking the details Friday had given her. They were sketchy at best. Followed by somewhere in the Sierra Nevada, about an hour from a town was especially vague. But she glanced up from her phone as the car pulled into the square where The Other Guy had made his appearance.

“Thank you,” she said to the driver and slid out. Sliding the phone from her pocket, she slung the backpack over one shoulder and began making her way through the controlled chaos of the aftermath. There was still a gaping hole near the fountains where he’d emerged. It was taped off and LAPD had a presence, but she just strolled like she had business in one of the towers.

The tourists distracted the two men on duty. Checking her watch as she circled the taped area to get to the other side, she pressed the timer. She had sixty seconds to get into position. The crowd press in the square thickened, then the buzz of sound grew.

Oh, look. The governor was early. The governor and two senators along with the mayor and a number of other city functionaries were going to host a press conference on solidarity. The arrival of their caravan of vehicles, security, and even more press would pull ninety percent of the attention. More security would be flocking in with them.

Not slowing her pace, Maria ducked under the tape and dropped into the hole. It was just ten feet to the first landing. The depths Friday measured let her worry less about breaking a leg and take advantage of the distraction. Ducking out of sight, she followed close to the wall to the next hole and dropped again. Switching on a flashlight, she checked her weapon then studied the layout.

Water slicked some of the walls where it leaked through the crevices. Bruce had done a real number down here—but the path he’d followed was also clear. Unwrapping a piece of gum, she tucked it in her mouth and started chewing as she set off.

At least she didn’t have to worry about whether there would be room for her. The route took her due east by northeast under the city. There were cracked walls, damaged water pipes and it took her hours of hiking to reach her first sight of daylight. Squinting, she checked her location as she stepped out of the cavernous drainage tunnel. Downed and splintered trees said she was on the right course and she was in the Angeles Forest.

The gum had helped to keep her hunger and thirst at bay as she moved. Four different pieces, chewed for a while before she spit them out. But she was hungry now. Breaking for a protein bar and some water, she studied the area. There were more damaged trees ahead. The whole area was dry though, the cracked ground not doing them any favors for footprints. The whole area was also a fire hazard, so better to be exceptionally careful.

Sweat slicked her back despite the relatively mild temperatures. She had a signal on her phone, something she hadn’t had in a while. Hitting the contact, she waited for it to connect as she packed bagged her trash and stuffed in the backpack.

“Yes, Ms. Hill? Have you found something?”

“Found where he got into the city, tracked him all the way out. I’m about twenty-five miles or so northeast in the Angeles Forest. It’s a little harder to track through here, but I’m going to follow it as far as I can. I might need a vehicle.”

“I will have one dispatched to you, do you have a preference for type?”

“Something that can off-road and preferably won’t start fires.”

“I am tracking you, Ms. Hill. I’ll have a vehicle to you within the hour.”

“Thank you. Do you have an update on Nat?”

“There has been no change in her condition, Ms. Hill.”

Since Friday hadn’t given her any updates on Natasha's condition, Maria didn’t know whether that was good or bad. “Should I be worried?”

“I cannot provide you with any data.”

“Can you tell me if finding out where Banner was will help?”

“It will provide necessary information, yes.”

That would have to do. “See if you can get permission to give me an update.”

“I will submit the inquiry.” But Maria had a feeling that answer was going to be no.

“Thanks.” For nothing.

The call ended and she slid the phone away and set off again. They needed to know where The Other Guy came from and it was definitely The Other Guy who tore under the city, not Banner. Blowing out a breath, she continued a zig-zagging path north. At least The Other Guy wouldn’t know stealth if it bit him in the ass. The destruction to the trees and underbrush gave her a clear path.

Almost exactly an hour later, she reached the first major road and his trail seemed to vanish and a vehicle pulled up—driven by one of the Iron Legion.

Yeah, that wasn’t creepy at all.

“Ms. Hill,” Friday’s voice spoke through the automaton. “Satellite tracking shows the trail resumes twenty miles north and moving on an angle from the Sequoia National Forest.”

“Oh, those are some big trees.”

“Agreed,” Friday said, her Irish lilt a bit more pronounced. “Damage to that forest could be significant. Do you require any other supplies to continue? I packed more protein bars and water in the jeep.”

“I’m good,” Maria said as she tossed her bag inside and climbed in. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Good luck. Please keep your phone active and your comms on you. I will be tracking your progress and can send aid if necessary.”

“Yep.” Then she gave the automaton a wave before accelerating away. Banner said he’d been in the Sierra Nevada. So what had sent The Other Guy rabbiting all the way down to Los Angeles at such a destructive speed and on a collision course with the team?

Banner wasn’t cooperating with that information. Then again, based on Nat’s reports when she was his shadow—he may not know.

Her phone rang and she checked the screen.

Fury.

She sent him to voicemail.

It rang again.

On the third attempt, she answered. “What?”

“Well, good to talk to you, Hill.”

“No, it’s not. You’re pissed at me and I’m none too thrilled with you. I don’t know anything about Romanoff’s condition and I have no answers you want to hear. So what do you want?”

“It’s not what I want,” Fury told her succinctly. “It’s who I found.”

She lifted her brows. “Ross?”

“Yep. Interested in talking to me now?”

**Rhodey**

Pepper’s assistant waved him right in and Happy glanced up from where he was seated across from her at her desk, a StarkPad lit up on his lap. “That’s my cue.” Standing, he glanced at Pepper. “I’ll go over these reports and get you a summary. Remember…”

“Yes, yes, no leaving without you. I won’t.” She smiled warmly. “Be sure to have some lunch while you’re getting caught up.”

“Rhodey,” Happy greeted him with a quick handshake.

After a quick grip, Rhodey patted him on the arm. “Good to see you, Hap.”

“You too. Doing good?”

“Can’t complain.”

“Tony’s not here, you can totally complain.”

They both chuckled. “Maybe later.”

“Sounds good. See you both.” Then Happy was out leaving him with Pepper. She rose and came around to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“You look great and you’re moving better and better all the time.”

“Thanks, it’s actually not so bad.” It wasn’t. The lighter framework didn’t pull on his back so much and the sensors responded to muscle and nerve impulses. All he had to do was think about walking.

It was a damn gift.

“Tony’s been tweaking it constantly, so I’m almost my old self—just a little more him.”

Pepper’s smile grew at the self-deprecating note. “I’m glad. Lunch is here…” She motioned to the table set up over to the side of her office and he followed her over to sit. “It’s just grilled salmon and rice, but I know you enjoy LeClaires too.”

“I do,” Rhodey admitted, pulling out her chair and waiting for her to sit before moving to his own. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” she told him, but without quite meeting his eyes. “Spent the last two weeks in Scotland—it was exactly what I needed.”

He studied her as she picked up a glass of water to sip. “Pep, it’s me. You don’t need to front.”

“I know,” she told him, finally meeting his gaze. “I don’t sleep well, but it’s gotten better. Every day it’s a little better and I’m here and ready to help. Have you heard anything more?”

“They put Natasha in cryo,” Rhodey said. “The hit she took—cracked her skull.”

Pepper frowned. “Oh my god.”

He covered her hand on the table. “But everyone is feeling really confident about her prognosis. Tony has one of the best neurosurgeons in the world there—who is also a wizard and we can talk about that part later. But the Wakandans are very advanced.”

“But cryo would be freezing her, right? Can she survive that?”

“Yes,” he assured her. “How much do you know about Natasha?”

“Quite a bit—she’s intelligent, sharp, worked for SHIELD… has nearly superhuman reflexes I think, very tough.”

“Enhanced,” Rhodey told her simply. Raising a hand to forestall her questions, he added, “Pretty damn sure anyway. That’s mostly from observation and watching her spar with the guys and how she handles herself in the field. She heals pretty quick. I think that’s the other reason they’re using cryo.”

“How is Tony?”

Rhodey sighed. “Worried,” he admitted. “Doing what he does when he can’t control everything.”

She lifted the cover off of her food. “Obsessing.”

“Working,” Rhodey said. “Researching. Looking for a better method…” He motioned to his legs. “Improving the one they have.”

“Who is looking after him?”

“Clint’s there—so are Steve and Bucky, but they might both be too much of a mess to keep an eye on him.”

“Why would they be a mess?” She frowned.

“Because Nat’s with them?”

Surprise flickered through her expression. “But I thought she and Tony…”

“Yeah, I’m sure Tony wants to be,” he said then grimaced. “Pepper…”

“No,” she waved him off and shook her head. “It really doesn’t bother me. I thought they were together, he’s—I’ve seen him around her and seen how he talks to and about her. She told me they weren’t but… I thought maybe she was just trying to protect my feelings. But she’s with Bucky? The guy who killed Tony’s parents and Steve? The guy who left him for dead?”

“It’s not as simple as that.” And suddenly, he wished he hadn’t brought this topic up. “And I’m not one to discuss others like gossip—but she’s definitely with them as far as I can tell, they are living at the Tower, all three of them on Steve’s floor and Tony’s in the penthouse.”

“By himself?” Pepper sat back in the seat, frowning. “And he’s still…”

“He’s got a thing for her, I’m not going to lie. It’s pretty obvious to everyone with eyes and she cares about him, but I don’t—I don’t think they’re together the same way. I could be wrong.” He held up his hands. “And it’s really something Tony is not going to volunteer.”

“Then it’s even more serious,” she said. “Tony’s committed, he doesn’t do that.”

“Pepper, you know he was committed to you.” If the two of them could have worked it out—maybe they still could.

“It’s not a competition. He committed as much as he could, but I was never more important than the mission. I couldn’t—I couldn’t bring him out of that dark place. The drinking. The flashbacks. The nightmares. The PTSD—I wanted to but even when I thought I was helping it only ever seemed to push him away further. Then I couldn’t sit there and keep watching him self-destruct.”

“You know that’s not on you,” Rhodey told her. “Tony had to want it. He—had to want to come out of that cave.” It had taken him a long time to even admit he was still in the cave and longer still to come out. “This summer—when everything went sideways…”

“He came out stronger.”

“Did he tell you how he got out?” Rhodey sighed. Tony had admitted it to him—after Rhodey discovered that not only was Natasha back but that Tony had been hiding her. 

“No, I knew he’d been hurt, but he barely spoke about it. I knew something had happened after he told me Bucky had killed his parents and that he’d fought with Steve and they’d left him.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey had been picking at his food but he set his fork down for now. “Look—when they left him, the arc reactor was broken—he was trapped in the armor—it was cold and he was pretty banged up.” Banged up and alone. “I was still in surgery or recovery. I didn’t even know it was going on. Found out a lot later, you know how he is.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I do.”

“Anyway—Natasha got him out. He’s alive because she found him. Got him out of there and got him on quinjet. This was—while everyone was hunting her—after she got turned into Ross and after she and Tony had the fight.” Rhodey frowned. That had been the hardest part for him, realizing just how much the others had let Tony down and he’d not been in a position to help them. “He—stopped drinking. He cleaned himself up, he got focused and he started looking for her. Tony has modified his whole life and built relationships with two people he arguably has every right to hate because of her. So yeah, he may not be with her…”

“…but he’s where he wants to be.” Pepper gave him a small smile. “Do you think he’s happy? It’s so hard to tell sometimes.”

“I think he is—on the good days. When she was missing and you were hurt, definitely not. Right now? He’s got the kid with him, Peter gives him someone to look after and strangely enough, Tony’s good at that.”

Laughing, Pepper said, “Why strangely?”

“Tony Stank, daddy material?” Rhodey dared her with a raise of his eyebrows before he took a drink. Tony’s issues with his own father had always been like the dark cloud he couldn’t escape.

“He likes to take care of people.”

“I know he does,” Rhodey admitted. “Sometimes he likes it too much and he forgets to take care of him.”

“Are you going to go out there?”

“No, he’s got the guys, like I said—and when she was missing and you were recovering, they were looking after him. They built a friendship that shouldn’t work, a real one. One they didn’t have before. But I’ll go if he needs me. Right now—he needs us here. Keeping the ship together. The deadline to get the new Accords in front of the Committee is coming and that’s going to determine a lot of things for all of us—including Natasha.”

She frowned. “They stepped back the prosecution but…”

“But… the pressure needs to stay on and with her out of sight that’s going to be a little harder.”

Pepper leaned back, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Maybe.”

He eyed her. “Maybe?”

“Maybe,” she murmured. “I have an idea.”

“Are you going to share?”

“When I know if it works. It just might take care of two birds with one stone.”

A chill ran up his spine. “Why do you suddenly sound like Tony?”

With a grin, she shrugged. “Because sometimes—he’s right. It’s a lot easier to ask for forgiveness than it is permission.”

**Strange**

He studied the latest scans, working his way backward through each one that had been imaged over the last few months. At this point, he was probably more intimately acquainted with her brain than he was his own.

“What are you looking for?” Sergeant Barnes asked him and it took Stephen a moment to not jump out of his skin. He hadn’t even seen the man move, but he’d left his chair behind and come to stand right behind him. Mr. Barton had convinced Captain Rogers to go eat, but Sergeant Barnes wouldn’t budge. They were going to bring him food back, but in the twenty-odd hours since they put her in cryo, the man hadn’t left to do more than use the restroom and he wasn’t gone long then.

“The architecture,” he said, his heart rate gradually resuming a steady cadence.

“Why?” Sergeant Barnes shifted his gaze from Stephen to the displays.

“Because I don’t think all of these issues are just the exposure she had to the devices—the chair, the memory machine—the drugs they gave her.”

“Will what we’re doing still work?”

“In theory,” Stephen told him.

“In theory?”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes, in theory. There is no other documented case for this type of damage—except yours and there are significant differences on close study.”

Those pale eyes seemed to look right through him and very little made him as uneasy as that thousand-yard stare. “Show me.”

“All right.” He pulled up a copy of the scans Shuri provided him for Barnes. “This was one of the last scans they did of you prior to entering cryo and another from just after you got out.” He motioned to the screen. “Brain stem, cerebral cortex, hippocampus—all in relatively good formation. There is some neural scarring in the previous scan, but in the post scan, you can see the improvements here and here.” He gave the other man a beat. Sergeant Barnes studied each image closely. “It’s well-formed, solid architecture.”

“Okay, and how is that different from Natalia’s?”

Stephen pulled Natasha’s more recent scans. “Now—here—the brainstem, cerebral cortex, hippocampus, amygdala—do you see the differences?”

“They’re smaller, but she’s smaller than I am.”

“It’s not just that she’s smaller, there are areas here that are hyper-formed, but others where it’s not. There are anomalies in the structure.”

“But she’s brilliant—she’s swift, intelligent, cunning—she knows multiple languages and she’s good with technology.”

“I’m not saying she isn’t all of those things—what I’m saying is that—children born into chaos, violence, instability, and danger develop differently than other children. The initial neural pathways are created differently from children born and raised in a nurturing environment. Crucial aspects of their brains develop—or don’t—differently.”

“They do or they don’t?”

“In some, they just don’t—some areas never fully form and in others—it’s hyper-performs. It’s exceptionally strong. Their muscle memory is all about how to survive…”

Sergeant Barnes flinched.

“I’m not going to ask if you know her history. She shared some of it with me. But even if she hadn’t—the brain stem grows differently in those cases of extreme abuse and trauma. Their fight or flight response is rapid, almost superhuman even without the serum. It can be triggered by the slightest thing…”

“Touch response.”

“That’s some of it. This would be the most aggressive and extreme case of PTSD in that this is how she functions and understanding that can help us help her.” He folded his arms. “It’s all the cause and effect of being raised in such dire circumstances. Her childhood literally formed her brain and who she has become and developed—it’s all right here.”

“They gave her the serum as a child,” Sergeant Barnes said. “From a very young age, she said they started giving her infusions. Because she was small—they worried she wouldn’t survive.”

“From what I see here, it’s a miracle she did and the serum may be the only thing that saved her life. Maybe saved her mind. But the damage—the initial parts to the brain stem had already formed. That extreme fight or flight. It’s…”

“…what makes her fearless,” Sergeant Barnes said slowly. “They did that to her.”

“They did a lot of things to her, but you are right about her intelligence and her cognitive abilities—but it also concerns me that these changes in her architecture suggest she probably has the capability to cognitively adjust herself through sheer force of will, because of heightened emotional reactions.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because the changes to her amygdala should make her emotions far more volatile than she is, yet she rigidly controls them. That’s not just the tampering they did, that’s the discipline and tied in to her fight or flight.”

“Doctor—you’re worried about this affecting the results of the treatments—what’s the worst that happens?”

“I don’t know—that’s what worries me. I have no basis for this. It could work exactly as we planned…” And it might not. He could tell himself all day she understood the risks going into this. They’d discussed them and she hadn’t shied away from it even when it made her distinctly uncomfortable. “I wish I could tell you more.”

“Me too,” the sergeant said as he placed his hand against the cool glass. “I try to imagine my life without her and all I see is pain and heartbreak. But at least I’d be the one feeling it.”

“I don’t imagine you’d be alone in that,” Stephen told him.

“No,” he said quietly. “But that’s not a comfort.”

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t be. The regeneration is continuing. There are a number of neural pathways already re-established. Stark’s nanites are doing a magnificent job of helping bridge the gaps and the cryo is letting her heal.”

“How long before we know it worked?”

“For this part? Another day maybe,” Stephen said. “Again…”

“You don’t know,” the sergeant sighed. “I understand. Thank you for the explanation.”

Then he moved away from the glass and returned to his seat. Stephen tracked him quietly and then said, “You should rest, Sergeant.”

“When she’s better.”

“That could be days—maybe even weeks.”

“But you don’t know,” the sergeant told him. “And she’s not going to be here alone. I was alone in one of those for too long. She would have stayed with me if she could—she kept fighting to get me out. I’ll be here.”

“If I had them bring a bed here, would you sleep?”

The sergeant glanced at him. “I don’t know.”

“Consider it—if and when you sleep, I will keep watch and I will wake you the moment I see anything. Perhaps if you sleep, Captain Rogers will and Mr. Stark.”

The other man nodded, but he focused on the cryotube again. The cloak bumped Strange’s arm and he glanced at it and shook his head.

“No, I don’t know any more than what I already told him. We have to wait.” The cloak didn’t sigh. It couldn’t. Yet it looked for all the world like it did.

He shook his head. The woman in that tube had many remarkable qualities, not the least of which was the loyalty she inspired in those around her.

For their sakes, he hoped she could continue to prove just how remarkable she was. He’d very much enjoy the opportunity to spar with her verbally again.

Sergeant Barnes was correct about many things including the fact that she had an exceptional mind—she’d raise the IQ in any room she entered. Some rooms she wouldn’t have any other choice but to. 

**Tony**

Across the room, Clint had Peter and Wanda flinging darts at the target on the wall. It was—ridiculous—and entertaining at the same time. Pete had excellent aim, but he had to hit very specific targets to get points. Wanda just had to hit the board. They were well matched with the uneven rules based on their relative skills.

Wanda flung another one and it bounced off the board, but she caught it with a wave of her hand and zipped it upward. To thump into the edge of it.

“Nope,” Clint said. “That’s cheating.”

“You’re only calling it cheating because you can’t do it. On the other hand, I can’t do what you two can do, so why can’t I do this again?”

There was a beat of silence before Clint said, “You have been spending way too much time with Nat.”

A sudden grin lit her face and she said, “Thank you.”

Steve chuckled and Tony shook his head.

“Let’s do it again,” Clint said, pulling the darts. “Just focus. This is all hand-eye coordination and don’t do it, Peter.”

Peter hesitated where he’d been about to fling the dart sideways. “I was just going to help her out.”

Covering his mouth, Steve leaned forward. The dart Peter had was one of Wanda’s.

“Uh huh,” Clint said holding out his hand. “Hand it over. Let’s start this again.”

Their complaints mingled with laughter and the point of Clint’s exercise seemed to be working. The corners of Tony’s mouth pulled upward, but no sooner did he smile than it faded. Exhaustion wore at the edges of his concentration and he flipped the StarkPad over to look at the test results.

Fifty separate combinations to bind the white blood cells.

None of them worked.

Their blood types weren’t actually the problem. Natasha was O-, a universal donor, but he could strip the RH factor. This was one time he could really use Bruce’s fucking help and he couldn’t ask him.

Well, he could.

He wouldn’t.

Vision had spent the day with him, arriving at Tony’s request to _babysit_ the other scientist. Friday reported they had many lengthy conversations and Vision had kept his information-sharing limited to himself specifically and edited all other details.

They were no closer to figuring out what he was hiding and why than they had been when they started. Friday was backtracking the pieces of information he had shared, but she was still working on it.

“Hey,” Steve said, giving him a nudge. “Walk?”

Tony frowned. “Shouldn’t you be getting back down to Red?”

“I will, giving Buck some time and then I’m going to take food down and probably end up picking a fight. I’m sure bruises will be involved. Clint’s got them…” He motioned to where Wanda was trying to fling the darts with enough force to actually hit the board and _stick_ the landing. She’d managed one in four.

An improvement over none in four from the last round.

“I need to figure out this equation…”

“Leave it,” Steve said. “Let’s get some air and then see if it gives you fresh ideas.”

That was a distraction like food was a distraction, and if he was wasting time, he wasn’t working on a solution.

“Please, Tony—I need the company.”

Fuck. He glared at Steve, but the super soldier didn’t flinch. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“That’s not the first time you’ve told me that…” The faint smile pulled a reluctant one from Tony, but he shut down the StarkPad and left it on the table. They rose and headed out the balcony doors. There were steps leading to the garden and this one was more isolated, allowing them privacy and keeping them from wandering too far. There were palace guards along the perimeter, but T’Challa said it was more ceremonial than anything else.

It was dark outside. When the hell had the sun gone down?

As they descended the steps, there were muted lights along the ground—plenty enough to let them see where they were going. A breeze stirred the humid air and Steve didn’t say anything as they walked.

Not at first anyway.

“You know this isn’t all on you, right?” Steve asked.

“Nope,” Tony told him. “It’s absolutely on me. I told her I would help. She asked for my help…”

“I know, she also asked for all of us to let her do the things she needs to do. But it’s not on you—however this goes.”

Pausing, Tony frowned and then stared at him. “However this goes?”

Steve raised his hands. “Bucky’s lost right now. He’s holding it together by sheer force of will and every hour he stays right there—it’s grinding away at him. You’re doing the same thing only you’re doing it in the lab across the hall.”

“Because in the lab across the hall, I’m running the blood you two gave me and various combinations to combine the serum to give her the boost she might need to…”

“Tony,” Steve said slowly. “This isn’t _on_ you.”

Aggravation scraped through him. “What do you want me to do? Go throw darts at the board? Red’s in cryo, we’re stimulating her brain to try and undo decades of damage and hoping we don’t fuck something else up. There are three different kinds of experts who are all very committed but each one has the same expression, we are literally crossing our fingers and hoping we’re right because there is no other case like her. In the meanwhile, fucking Bruce is sitting on whatever the hell it is _he_ has been doing and the kid is going to talk to him to try and pick his brain…but this isn’t _on_ me? Well, fucking thank you, Steve. I guess I can go home now.”

At the end of the rant, he blew out a breath. He was half shaking from the adrenaline dump and the fog cleared. Fuck. He’d just ripped into Steve, but before he could open his mouth and apologize, the other man said, “Feel better?”

“No,” he said. “Maybe. Fuck.”

Brows raised, Steve waited him out. “You need to vent, Tony.”

“You’re handling me.” It irritated him that he’d been so distracted he hadn’t noticed.

“Only a little,” Steve admitted, turning to walk again and Tony waited a beat before falling into step with him. “If I focus on you and I focus on Buck—I’m not picturing her or wishing I could just rip that thing open and get her out.”

Tony got that.

Damn did Tony get that.

“There just has to be something I’m not seeing,” Tony said. “Something with Bruce or with Red—something I can fix.”

“And maybe that something is you,” Steve suggested. “Maybe that something is just—being here. You’ve done everything else. You said the waiting would be the hardest part.”

“It’s not killing you?”

“Oh, it’s killing me. I hate every part of this. I hate the parts I don’t understand. I hate the parts I do understand. I hate that someone did all this stuff to her that means we have to do this now to help her. I hate that some guy shot her. And I hate that I didn’t make it hurt more when we killed him. He went too quick.”

“I want her back,” Tony admitted. “This is worse than when she was missing after Germany. When after a few weeks—I got my head out of my ass and realized what I’d done and the fact I hadn’t stopped missing her.”

“I know.”

“I just want her to look at me and tell me to can it, Shellhead. Or to get a life. Or to go bed and shut up.” He laughed. “I just want her to be okay.”

“Well, she wants that date with you.”

Tony had continued walking and he went another four or five steps before he realized Steve wasn’t moving. Turning, he faced him. “What?”

“At Christmas—she talked to me and Buck. She wanted to give you back the date she had to cancel because I was an ass.”

The bet.

Tony raked a hand through his hair. “She didn’t say anything.”

“Because she asked us first—didn’t want us to be upset if she asked you. We never really got a chance to give her an answer. Well—that’s not true. I didn’t know what I wanted my answer to be.”

“That it wasn’t just no seems to be an improvement?” Tony wasn’t quite sure what to do with this information. She… “Why are you telling me this?”

Folding his arms, Steve said, “Because she asked me for something and she doesn’t ask for a lot. She doesn’t tell us what she wants—not that often. Most of the time, what she does say is—she wanted the team back together. She wanted us to not fight.”

Tony nodded. She’d said those things.

“She wants to get the Accords fixed. She wanted us safe.”

“She wants her daughter,” Tony added on.

“Yeah.” Then, Steve met his gaze. “She didn’t want to have to choose.”

“Hence—you and Bucky.”

“She wants her date with you.”

Apprehension crept over him. Steve had asked him about what they would have done when they’d been waiting on the quinjet and now this. “I’m a little tired, Steve. Maybe you can spell this one out for me because I’m not reading between the lines here.” Well, he was, but he wasn’t sure if they were speaking the same language and this would be better handled if they weren’t assuming.

“She wants her date with you—so you need to be in one piece when she gets out of that tube.”

Tony stared at him. “Steve, are you giving me permission to date Red?” No way he was reading this right, was he?

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I just know Bucky and I want you in one piece for her. Not just to help save her because you’ve been doing that. But because you’re our friend. She cares about you and so do we. That means you can’t beat yourself up. Or ignore what you need. You have to rest. You have to eat.”

“You first. I’ve slept. When was the last time you did?” Because if Steve was sleep-deprived and making his offer, there was a lot more going on. “And to be clear, if Red wants me, Red knows where to find me. I’d rather she asked.”

There was a beat before Steve just started laughing. Then he shook his head. “Maybe we forget this conversation.”

“Nope, sorry. No can do. But I’ll let you tell Red about it.” Tony clapped him on the arm. “And if she asks me—just so you know—I’m saying yes.”

“Somehow, I knew that.” So dry and very droll.

Fuck, he must be tired because he started laughing and so did Steve.

This was just not the conversation he ever thought they would have. “You know—she’d probably flip us both off right about now.”

“If she didn’t slap us in the back of the head.”

“Or a punch to the nuts,” Tony suggested.

They both winced.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Steve told him. “I’m glad you’ve been there for her.”

“Right back atcha,” Tony said and he meant it.

They were a long way from London

Even further from Germany and Siberia.

“We need to go feed your bestie and get him to rest.”

“Yep,” Steve said. “You stay with Nat if I can get him to leave?”

“Can’t drag me away.”

**Logan**

Logan puffed on the cigar as he waited. Kicking over rocks meant the slime crawled out. Movement behind him.

“One of them is waking up.”

Rising, he turned to where the others waited. They had five men lashed to the chairs for questioning. Their guests kept nodding off—pain had a habit of doing that.

“C’mon man,” the guy almost whimpered. “I told you I don’t know anything.”

“No,” the masked man who called Logan over said softly. “You lied to us. I can hear it.” He motioned to Logan. “He can smell it.” Their target glanced at the third member of their merry little group.

“Me?” Swamp Rat spread his hands. “I just don’t like you.”

“So,” Logan said, taking over. “Let’s start at the beginning. Who hired your groups? What were targets? And how do you get in touch with them?” The tip of his cigar glowed red and it cast a muddy light on the face of the man they were interrogating. Sweat slicked the guy’s face.

Someone shot Natty.

“I don’t know who hired us…” The guy admitted. Well that was something. “I’m just a foot soldier. That’s way above my pay grade.”

“Then what was your target?” The man in the devil mask asked.

“Just—the brotherhood.” The so-called 28th Street Blood claimed.

Rolling his head from side to side, he enjoyed the crack of his vertebrae before he leaned in. “Lie.”

The guy pissed himself.

Five minutes later, Logan jammed the cigar between his teeth again and puffed. They were back to waiting.

“These guys might actually not know anything,” Daredevil suggested, though he didn’t sound like he believed it.

“No, one of them knows something and all we need is a name.” He planned to climb the chain all the way to the top. “They shot Natty.”

Another man began to stir and all three of them shifted their focus.

“Yes,” Daredevil said grimly. “They did.”

One name and then he’d keep climbing.

His phone buzzed and he checked the update. Natty was still alive, but she wasn’t conscious. Friday had kept him in the loop. He owed her. She was the one who gave him this list of targets in the first place when she said she needed help tracking who had done this.

“Well, one more round, but if they don’t give us anything, I know who I want to question next.”

Logan eyed the so-called devil of Hell’s Kitchen. He liked the self-loathing son of a bitch, history with Natty not withstanding. “Who?”

“Thaddeus Ross.”


	61. Nesting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha's memories continue to crack through

**Chapter Sixty-One**

_Nesting_

**Natasha**

1972

_Late April_

Natalia carried the baby outside. At three weeks, Mary was still so very tiny. She ate well and she slept a lot. James had to make a trip to town, leaving her and Mary alone for the day.

“We are fine, aren’t we malyshka? We are managing this well.” Mary seemed to be tracking better with her eyes and Natalia had discovered how much the baby liked to hear them talk.

The air outside was coolish, but not cold. Mary was swaddled in the blanket and Natalia settled on the steps and turned her face toward the sun. They were still in the shade, but it was brighter outside. The snow still dusted the peaks in the distance, but it had all but melted around them.

“It will be greener here soon and more animals will make appearances like that noisy little woodpecker…” The little bird was banging away against one of the trees. “We will probably go hunting and get fresh meat. James—your Papa and I will need to fix more things.”

Mary blinked at her and she grinned.

“You don’t care what we have to do, do you? You just want to know where we are…” The emotional dissonance from her pregnancy lingered and the swell of feeling in her chest seemed to grow everyday. She cared about James, more and more deeply each day—but this baby, their baby—there was no other attachment she had ever experienced like this. “Ty idealen, malyshka. Mama will always protect you—I promise.”

Another slow blink and Natalia laughed at herself even as she had to blink back the tears. Packing away the unstable emotions was a difficult and challenging task she had yet to master. The soreness in her body had healed faster. Taking a deep breath, she tried to find the calmness she relied on when on a mission but it disintegrated when Mary gurgled a sound.

Laughing softly, she said, “You are my greatest challenge, malyshka, don’t think I don’t know that.” Then she nuzzled her forehead. “Papa will be back soon and we will be in one piece for his inspection. I will tell you a secret, he hates to be away. He is always so worried, so we must make sure we take care of him when he gets back.”

At least the sudden tears had been joined by these little bouts with laughter.

There were worse things.

_May_

“Shh,” James whispered. “Mama is asleep little one. Be patient.”

Natalia opened her eyes to the dimness of the room. James leaned over the edge of the bed, carefully changing Mary. At seven weeks, she squirmed and kicked her little feet. When she batted at his left hand, he paused then held his fingers carefully within reach for her.

Not wanting to disturb them, she watched as Mary tried to close her tiny hand against one of his fingers.

“Papa needs his hand,” he told her, the warmth lacing those words wrapped a noose around her heart. Mary let out a little gurgle of a sound. It could be a laugh, but it wasn’t quite there yet.

One thing Natalia had noticed was Mary tracked them so easily and if she or James spoke to her, Mary would fix all of her attention on them. A week earlier, she’d smiled for the first time and it had damn near stopped Natalia’s heart. The fierce concentration James focused on her as Mary clasped his fingers had the same effect.

Initially, he’d been so wary of even touching her. Too small and fragile by half, he worried about hurting her and look at him now… Tears pricked her eyes and she had to blink them away.

“Papa needs his hand,” he repeated trying to finish securing the diaper with one hand, despite the words he didn’t tug his fingers away. Mary could hardly have such a steely grip he couldn’t get free.

Pushing up, Natalia shifted carefully to not bounce Mary and James flicked his attention up to her. There was a flash of disappointment, he’d been trying to let her sleep.

“Shh, zvezda moya,” she murmured to him in the same tone he had used with Mary. She padded over and pressed a kiss to his cheek before finishing fastening the diaper pins and while Mary held onto his hand, Natalia slipped her back into her clothes. Her breasts ached, but that was normal. Mary had slept longer than usual if Natalia’s body clock was correct.

“I wanted to not wake you until…” He trailed off and Natalia glanced to find him transfixed on Mary even as the corners of his mouth curved. “She’s smiling at you.”

Checking, Natalia grinned and brushed her knuckles against his stubbly cheek. “She’s smiling at you zvezda moya, she has her papa in the palm of her hand.”

“Oh, yes she does,” he agreed readily.

“I’ll clean this up and then I’ll be back to feed her.”

“Okay,” he agreed and seemed content to just lean there where Mary could hold him.

Ten minutes later and after she was back in bed, James settled Mary in her arms and then tucked his chin against her shoulder as Mary latched and began to nurse. He nuzzled a kiss to Natalia’s cheek then along her jaw and she smiled. “When she is asleep, I will take care of you, too.”

He chuckled. “I am patient, kotyonok, and content.” His gaze fixed on their daughter, then he lifted those cool-blue eyes to study her. “Are you happy, Natalia?”

The question made her heart stutter. What did she know about happiness? When the doctor started all those tests, when they summoned her to Siberia, when he told her she was pregnant and they’d marked James for termination—she had never imagined this. Dipping her gaze to their daughter, she said, “I don’t know—but I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

He pressed his lips to her shoulder and covered her hand on the back of Mary’s head, cradling her together. “No, not for anything.”

_December_

A naked Mary crawled across the floor swiftly with James laughingly in pursuit. Natalia glanced down as Mary grasped her leg and began to pull herself up. Locking her legs, Natalia held herself still to counter Mary’s uncertain balance. James froze and they both watched as Mary made it to her feet. Then she grinned up at Natalia with that singular heart-stopping smile.

“You are naked, malyshka,” Natalia chided her without an ounce of rebuke, she was smiling too hard to make it remotely serious.

“Mmm—mmm.” Mary tugged at her leg, stretching one hand up. Wiping her hands on a towel, Natalia reached and caught up her up then Mary tucked her head against her shoulder and looked right at James.

“She is your daughter, kotyonok, I’d recognize that look anywhere.” Amusement and affection colored every word.

Raising her eyebrows, Natalia said, “What look is that?”

“The _you didn’t know I could be so clever did you_ look.” He teased, then crossed to join them. “But you need clothes, little one. It’s cold out and you can’t run around naked all day.”

Mary protested, nuzzling her face against Natalia’s shoulder.

“I think someone is hungry,” he said with a chuckle. “But you need clothes first.” When James lifted her away, Mary squirmed and cried her complaints. Despite that, the minute he braced her against his chest she settled to sniffles and imploring eyes.

“Papa will be quick,” Natalia assured her with a brush of her hand over her curls. “Go on.”

Her stomach sank and the room around her shivered. Apprehension coiled through her and she glanced around the room. The only thing she could hear was James laughing as he teased Mary. She apparently kept trying to roll away from him. Moving slowly across the room, she glanced at the fireplace. It was warm and crackling merrily. They’d just fed new logs into it.

Nothing was out of place.

But something was wrong…

The room shook again and she spun. Why wasn’t James reacting? At the sofa, she pulled the gun from behind the flap in the back where they’d secured it. The tremors continued and she hurried toward the bedroom, but everything elongated and white-hot light blazed in the windows.

Pain speared through her and the image shattered.

_1973_

The gun pressed against the base of her skull couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

“Ana,” a cool British voice said. “Take the baby out of here.”

Natalia eyed the woman holding Mary. She’d brought the baby with her for the appointment unwilling to leave her with the landlady even if she’d been genuinely nice. The woman hesitated and her husband shifted his stance. He was three feet away from Natalia, Ana was two feet behind him and the woman behind Natalia was close enough to press the gun to her skull.

“Peggy,” Edwin said slowly. “Perhaps we should reconsider?”

“Just—take the little girl out of here.” Authority rang in “Peggy’s” tone. Ana took one step and Natalia moved, she pushed back and spun. Catching “Peggy’s” wrist, she shoved upward and twisted. “Peggy” released a sharp cry of pain as Natalia relieved her of the weapon. Still moving, she slammed her foot against the table and sent it right into Edwin. It caught him in the thighs and knocked him off balance.

Peggy’s gun in one hand and her own in the other, Natalia pinned them both into place. “You stay right where you are with my daughter,” she instructed Ana who had frozen.

Eyes wide, Mary looked to her, straining against Ana’s hold.

“It’s all right, malyshka,” Natalia soothed her, then motioned with her head for Peggy to move. The woman held her wrist as she circled to where Edwin stood. A sound of pattering feet filled the silence and a little boy raced into the room. Edwin stiffened and Peggy went pale. Natalia ignored the child for the moment.

“Natalie,” Peggy said slowly. “I don’t think you want to do this.”

Natalie?

Her eyebrows rose. How did this woman know her cover name? Or had she been waiting for her to get there and vetted the I.D. she’d provided to the Jarvises? Winning this interview had taken her a few days. A hand touched her leg, but she didn’t glance down.

“Hi,” a young voice said.

“Anthony,” Edwin said, his voice stiff. “You need to go back to the playroom.”

“I’m hungry,” he complained. “Can you make waffles?”

Natalia ran through a dozen scenarios to leave with Mary without running into issues. But if she left them alive, there was every chance they would pursue. Peggy Carter was the Director of SHIELD. She was aware of the friendship between Carter and Stark, she’d somewhat counted on it, but not this way.

Another pat against her leg. “Can I play, too?”

“No, sit down and wait. They will make you breakfast in a moment.” Still, she didn’t look at the little boy. But he clambered into the chair she’d abandoned.

“He’s just a little boy,” Ana began though she still held the squirming Mary carefully.

“And my daughter is a little girl. I offered no threat,” Natalia reminded them and studied Peggy Carter who studied her in return.

“You don’t remember me?” Peggy asked and Natalia raised her brows.

Why should she remember her?

“Edwin,” a male voice called. “We’re running late and you were going to…”

The others in the room stiffened as Howard Stark strode into the kitchen.

“Daddy!” Anthony called. “We’re playing, but I want breakfast.”

The man slowed, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene and then he did a double-take.

“Natalie?”

That was the second in as many minutes.

“She doesn’t remember us,” Peggy answered him and Natalia frowned.

“And she hasn’t aged a day,” Stark exhaled, shock seemed to root him for a moment. Then he shook it off. “But I would really prefer you put the guns down Ms. Rushman.”

Rushman?

“Rogers,” she corrected and that got a flinch out of Carter.

“Okay, Ms. Rogers. You have my attention,” Stark said. “I take it you’re here to see me?”

“I was,” she confirmed, but kept her guns focused on Carter and Edwin. “Then Director Carter put a gun to my head, so I’m not feeling very friendly at the moment.”

“Understandable.”

“Daddy…”

“Anthony, go find your mother and tell her you’re going to the park today.”

“The park?” Anthony bounced pff the chair. “Yes! But I’m hungry, too.”

“You can get donuts on the way to the park.”

Natalia said nothing as the man persuaded his son to leave the field of fire.

The last seemed to do it and Anthony raced out of the room. Carter and Edwin relaxed a fraction when she made no move to stop him.

“Thank you for letting him go,” Stark told her as he walked to Ana. Natalia tracked his movements and he kept them slow and steady. “Is this your daughter?”

Natalia nodded curtly.

“Here, Ana, let me have her,” Stark said and Ana surrendered Mary to him. Bouncing her carefully, Stark narrowed the distance between them and Natalia had to shift to keep her gun on the other two and not pointed at her daughter. “You have my attention and I have your daughter. Why don’t we take this in my study, Ms. Rogers?”

“Howard…” Peggy said.

“No, it’s fine Pegs. Natalie wasn’t hurting anyone before, was she?” He glanced to Edwin and Ana.

“No,” Edwin said, his voice betraying an indignant note. “She came to interview as staff.”

“I see,” Stark said, then his attention was on her. “What do you say, Natalie? You can even keep the guns.”

She raised her brows. Like they could take them away from her. “And how long before the director calls in reinforcements and I have to fight my way out of here?”

“She won’t,” Stark said. “If she does, I’ll get you out myself. No one wants this little girl to get hurt, Natalie and since you let my son go, you have my word that I will make sure your little girl and you get out, too.”

His word. What value did his word have?”

“Howard, this is a bad idea,” Carter told him. “We don’t know her…”

Natalia flicked her gaze to Stark and studied him. There was no malice in his eyes, only a genuine curiosity. Everything she’d studied about him suggested a recklessness when it came to his work—from his inventions to his partying to the company he kept. At the same time, there was no artifice in his words. He meant what he said. Still…

“Let Peggy come with. Ana and Edwin won’t do anything,” he said the last as an order. “Then you can keep an eye on the director, too, how does that sound?”

“Like you are trying to patronize me,” Natalia informed him. But she slid her own gun away into the holster beneath her jacket and then stripped Carter’s gun completely apart, setting the pieces of it down one at a time.

Carter and Edwin both let out a breath and Ana put a hand over her heart.

“As I said, I did not come here meaning harm.” She locked her gaze on Carter. “Attack me again and I will not be so kind.”

Still holding her wrist, the woman held her gaze for a moment, then nodded. Done, Natalie reached for Mary and Stark surrendered her immediately. Mary ceased squirming and clung to Natalia, the tension in the room had frightened her. Smoothing a hand over her hair, she waited for their next move.

“Well, I’ll make the tea,” Edwin said. “Ana darling, perhaps you’d like to take a trip to the store…”

“Actually,” Stark intervened. “Make the tea for the ladies and coffee for me, we’ll take it in my office. Ana, please stay. Let’s not upset this delicate balance any more than we have to. Peggy?” Stark motioned her ahead and the man seemed clever enough to realize Natalia wasn’t going to let either of them get behind her.

Stark led the way, but Carter kept glancing over her shoulder as Natalia followed. She knew the layout of the house and they went directly to Stark’s second-floor office. Once in the room, he moved around the desk and Carter moved to the right of it, leaving Natalia with the door at her back and facing them.

“Have a seat,” Stark said and she rocked Mary gently.

“I’ll stand,” she told him. At least on her feet, she could kick if she needed while still cradling Mary. A true battle with Mary in the middle of it was not on her list.

“All right.” Leaning forward, he studied her. “You don’t know us?”

“I know you are Howard Stark and Peggy Carter, but no—we’ve never met.” Not formally anyway.

Stark frowned.

“I don’t believe that’s wholly accurate,” Carter countered and folded her arms. “That or we met the woman who is your mother and near-identical twin in 1952.”

“Helsinki?” Stark suggested.

“No,” Natalia answered sharply, then shrugged. “Though it is not impossible the memory was removed. They have done that before.”

“They?”

“This will be simpler if I explain and you listen,” she informed them. “Your questions will only confuse the issue.”

Settling back, Stark lifted his hand. “Then, by all means, explain. Ms. Rogers? Rushman? What is your name?”

“Natalie will do,” she said. “If you are not comfortable with the others.”

“All right, Natalie. Like I said in the kitchen. You have my attention. What can we do for you?”

Radiating dislike, Carter folded her arms, but she too seemed focused.

This had always been the gamble. How much to tell them. How much to reveal. Compromising her safety was one thing; compromising Mary’s was something altogether different.

“You worked with Erskine to develop the super soldier serum.” It wasn’t a question.

“You can get that out of any biography.”

“You also developed the shield that Captain America used.”

Carter’s frown deepened.

“You both flew Captain America behind enemy lines to rescue his best friend.” She kept her tone as even as she could. Mary tugged against her hair but kept her head tucked to Natalia’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Carter answered finally, but the suspicion in her gaze redoubled.

“I need your help to rescue him again.”

“Sergeant Barnes?” Stark shook his head. “Sergeant Barnes died in late winter of 1944.”

“Technically, he was missing in action and declared dead,” Carter corrected.

“He took a fall from a train in the Alps when the Howling Commandos, led by Captain Rogers captured Armin Zola, Hydra science division.” Neither of them moved. “But Sergeant Barnes did not die.” She shifted her grip on Mary and pulled out an envelope she’d brought with her.

The door opened and she moved, shifting her stance to keep everyone in line of sight as Edwin carried in a tray. The silence in the room elongated as he set out the teacups and then poured coffee for Stark and tea for Carter before glancing at her.

“I’m fine,” she told him. Not about to eat or drink anything offered.

“Thanks, Jarvis,” Stark said. “You can leave us.”

The man nodded then slipped out as quietly as he’d entered, closing the door behind him. Stark took a drink of his coffee then focused on her again.

“I assume you have evidence that he didn’t die nearly thirty years ago?”

She set the envelope on the desk then retreated.

Still studying her, he reached forward and picked the envelope up and slit it open. Five photographs fell out.

The only five she’d managed to pack in that particular go-bag.

“Bloody hell,” Carter exclaimed and Stark’s expression grew stricken.

“He’s alive…” then his gaze jerked to her. “You know him.”

“Mary is his daughter,” she told them and Carter sat abruptly as they both gaped at her.

She lifted her chin.

They went through the photos carefully and Stark examined them, then said, “They’re not forgeries—that has to be him. But what the hell happened to him?” Then Stark looked at her again. “You want our help?”

Want? No. Need? Yes. “They took him. If he’s still alive—I want to get him back.”

“Who took him?” Carter asked. “And—Zola… it had to have been Zola when he had Sergeant Barnes. He did something. Now he’s dead and I can’t ask him what the hell he did?”

Natalia didn’t try to follow the logic, she just waited them out. They were still wrestling with whether this was the truth or not.

They weren’t ready for the rest of the story.

“You should discuss it,” she told them. “You can verify the photos—though I would ask that you not damage them. I have no others. I will return in a few days…”

“Wait,” Stark said, rising. “Don’t go.”

“You’re not ready for the rest, you have no reason to trust me… and I won’t risk our daughter.”

“No risk necessary,” Stark said as he rounded the desk. “Please… stay. We need to figure this out. Sergeant Barnes. You.” His gaze went to Mary and then back up to Natalia’s face. “I promise you’re safe here.”

His promises meant nothing. “I am safe enough on my own. I will come back tomorrow. But you should figure this out…and if you try to hunt me down, you won’t see me again.”

“Let her go,” Carter said. “She needs to know she can trust us.”

She needed more than that.

Stark said, “How did you get here? I can have Jarvis take you home.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I would prefer you not attempt to follow me and I will know if you do…”

She moved to the door, then paused and glanced back at Carter.

“If you want another reason to trust me—Rajan Kolokov. You know the name?”

“He’s attached to the diplomatic envoy. Why?” Carter eyed her.

“He’s KGB, answers personally to Brezhnev. Misinformation campaign. He is the reason your president likes Brezhnev so much. Watch him and who he meets with—he is a keyhole for many assets in the United States.” Natalia had worked with him. “He coordinated the effort to steal data from your NASA program.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I was the asset who stole it and passed it to him.” With that, she left the room and strode through the house and down the stairs. She wanted to get out and away. Ana caught sight of her striding toward the door and she stared after her but didn’t intervene.

It took Natalia four hours to reach Brooklyn again through the varying routes she’d taken. Mary was very unhappy but Natalia couldn’t let down her guard. She’d played one card if she were fortunate; she could play the whole hand.

But she needed their help. If James was alive, she had to get him out. 

_1979_

_December_

“Amin has been moved from the Presidential Palace in Kabul to Tajbeg Palace. The walls there are thick and capable of withstanding artillery fire. All roads to Tajbeg have been mined with the exception of this one,” the commander said as he indicated it on the map. “They have heavy machine guns and artillery positioned to defend it. To make matters worse, there seven posts, each manned by four sentries armed with a machine gun, mortar and automatic rifles. All external defenses are manned by the Presidential Guard, a force of 2500 men and three T-54 tanks.”

Natalia stared at the layout and the soldier stood silently at her side.

“Your job,” the commander continued, “is to get inside and assassinate him. Every other member of the command staff has stated it is impossible. However, Moscow insists you are the ones for this task. Amin is a CIA agent who has betrayed the Saur Revolution. Despite this, our own troops hesitate on these orders.”

She didn’t really care whether he was a CIA operative or not.

“Inform me when you have a plan.”

He left them and Natalia stared at the information.

“You will have to go in,” Soldat stated.

“Hmm,” she hummed, but she didn’t disagree. “The only other way to come in from the outside is brute force.”

“Agreed.”

“But we have to keep the pressure on him. Distraction will be the key. Not just me. I’ll need one or two others inside.”

“You have someone in mind?” The chilly voice didn’t bother her. Soldat never softened where others might hear them. Even when she worried him.

“Yes,” she said. “They can’t know the whole plan.”

Turning, she faced him. “Nor can you.”

He frowned but locked his gaze on her. “You will need extraction.”

“You will get me,” she assured him. “I need you to push him back deeper into the compound—there are positions here…” She pointed to places some distance from the palace. “With a long-range weapon, you can attempt to get him through the glass. It’s ballistic and reinforced, but it will make him think he is not safe there.”

“Wage war on him emotionally and psychologically.” Distaste filled his tone. He much preferred the straightforward tasks. “Then?”

“Then, you give me two weeks. Assault the palace on the 27th, full force.”

A faint scowl promised her he hated the plan.

“It will work, Soldat. Trust me.” She winked, out of sight of the camera.

Natalia handpicked two members with the best chance of getting inside and gave them separate tasks. Neither knew the other nor knew that she would be going in as well. She dispatched them immediately. Each had a component of poison to give to Amin. Individually, they were harmless. But when combined with a third reagent, they would turn toxic. His tasters would not be harmed unless one had the misfortune to consume all three and since she intended to be the third taster, it would be fine.

It took her another two days to find a woman on his staff she could model her own looks after and impersonate. She stained her skin and darkened her hair. The eyes were the hardest part to hide, but colored contacts solved the issue. They were uncomfortable to wear and she had extras in case she needed them during her tenure.

The woman in question was a secretary and Natalia replaced her late one night. James nodded to her as she prepared to head out and take a ride to the palace. The president sent guards to bring in any private staff.

“Be careful, Natalia.”

“Just be there on the 27th,” she told him. “And trust me.”

“You be there as well,” he said firmly. “Don’t make me have to tear the palace apart to find you.”

Because he would.

She allowed herself a brief smile, then she was out.

The first reagent was delivered, along with the second according to the plan. It wasn’t long before her movements were restricted to the palace after the second sniper attack in two days. Not only had James hit the glass right next to his head. He took out four of the sentries at their posts.

Showing off, she thought, and doing it very well.

The next few days, he picked off the guards and increased security on the palace over and over. Amin, however, organized a lunch party as though to prove he feared nothing. Another poisoner was apparently on the task because Amin and several of his guests lost consciousness during the meal, but Amin did not die though he grew ill. The poisoner had put it in the Coca-Cola and the carbonation in the drink had likely diluted the toxin.

The assault began shortly after he and his guests began to recover. Amin insisted the Soviets would help, but the adjutant informed him it was the Soviets attacking. Though Amin declared it a lie, Natalia could see the truth of it written on his face. He gathered his family and pulled them deeper into the palace along with his staff, including her.

It wasn’t long before mortar and tank fire shuddered the walls. Gunfire had become rapid and Natalia added the third reagent to the tea she prepared him and she took a sip of it before offering it to him. With shaking hands, the president accepted it and drank nearly all of it as she withdrew to wait in the anteroom.

An hour later, the palace fell and Amin was dead. She was reading a magazine she’d found when James came for her and she smiled as he entered the room, everyone else had fled in the chaos.

“You’re late,” she informed him.

“It’s the 27th,” he stated.

“It’s after midnight,” she teased. “It’s the 28th.”

His baleful expression made her laugh.

By dawn, they were onboard a flight from Kabul to Moscow.

Pain shivered through her. The sunrise blotted out by blinding white light.

_2013_

_Washington D.C._

“Agent Romanoff,” the secretary greeted her. “How was your flight?”

“Swift, Mr. Secretary,” she told him. “You recalled me?” She’d been enjoying the antics at the party, but work was work.

“I did. I have a mission for you, Agent. This will be deep shadow conditions. Your eyes only. Understood?”

“Of course.” She’d already left her phone, Avengers comm and other items in her locker. None of them were allowed on Secretary Pierce’s level.

“Then come with me.”

They took his private elevator to the sub-garage.

Rumlow and Rollins stood next to the armored vehicle. 

“Romanoff,” Rumlow said with a smirk. “Mr. Secretary.”

She merely nodded to them.

“You’re sitting with me,” the secretary said as he slid into the back and she had no choice but to join him. Rollins and Rumlow were upfront. It wasn’t very eyes only if two other members of STRIKE were on the operation with them. But the secretary raised a privacy shield before he poured himself a drink. “So, how was your jaunt to Mexico City? Were any weapons recovered?”

“Unfortunately, no,” she told him.

“You were under orders to bring back as many as you could,” Pierce reminded her.

‘Yes, sir. The weapons cache was detonated and the weapons inside destroyed.”

“Unfortunate indeed. Though I suppose between Iron Man, Thor, and the Other Guy we’d be lucky to get anything at all. Next time—secure the weapons first, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” She didn’t apprise him of the fact she was the one who destroyed them. SHIELD did not need the Chitauri weapons. No one needed them. In her opinion, they had enough for research and the ones they’d collected in the aftermath had proven unstable enough.

“How is Agent Barton? I heard he’s been assigned to a different team.”

He’d heard?

Somehow, she doubted he’d only heard.

“He is doing very well, sir, I am sure he will be flattered to know you inquired.” Secretary Pierce was highly regarded within SHIELD and once upon a time, she’d been flattered herself that he’d handpicked her for an assignment. But in the years since, the man made her skin crawl. Not that it would prevent her from doing her job.

She’d followed the orders of worse men whose terrible reputations matched their terrible demeanors. They pulled into another underground garage. Rumlow was out and opened the door for them. He grinned at her.

“See you soon, Romanoff.”

She didn’t roll her eyes. Rumlow wasn’t a bad agent, but he wasn’t a good one either. When it came to STRIKE team missions, he was effective enough.

Apprehension shivered up her spine when they got to the elevator, but it was just her and the secretary descending. Considering they were in an underground garage, the fact it continued down told her this was likely a black site.

“As always, Agent Romanoff, we appreciate your compliance.” Sound cut through her and her whole body went rigid. She would have toppled face-first if not for the hand on her arm.

The chair stared at her as she was carried out. The table they loaded her onto looked like a torture device.

“I understand this will be uncomfortable, but you won’t remember it later. We’ll make sure of it. For now, we need your service, Agent Romanoff.”

Then the next hour passed hellishly, her mind felt like it was on fire but at the end, she faced Pierce again. “Alexander.”

“Much better, dear.” He cupped her face. “Your mission—is in Moscow. I need you to go to Lubyanka and retrieve all the files on the Winter Soldier. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Deep shadow conditions, no one is to know you are there. In those files should be a secondary location for a facility in Siberia…I need you to get me the coordinates from those files, do you understand?”

Detachment allowed her to focus on the specific orders. “I understand.”

“But before you go—I have a few more questions for you. What is the status of Captain Rogers?”

“He’s adapting well to the changes to the present. There are still challenges, but his work both with STRIKE and the Avengers keeps him focused and grounded.”

“Excellent. Have you managed to seduce him yet?”

“Seduction is unnecessary. He considers me a friend.”

“Does he?” The secretary looked impressed. “Are you his friend?”

“I am whatever he needs me to be.”

Pierce chuckled. “What about Stark?”

“He continues to excel. His development of his tech is apace. Each month brings new improvements.”

“He’s working with Banner now? How are they managing the beast?”

“Dr. Banner has displayed remarkable control and contributes in the areas of development and research. I do not participate in all their projects…”

“But you can bring me copies of anything you can get your hands on?”

There were many ways to answer that question. “Stark has security keyed to specific individuals.”

“Of course, he does. If you hacked it, he’d notice?”

“Or his AI. JARVIS maintains overwatch on all systems.”

“You got around him before,” Pierce pressed. “You can’t do that now?”

“In an effort to build trust, I revealed the weakness to the AI and helped him patch it.”

Pierce sighed. “That was a poor decision, Agent Romanoff.”

“Managing the Avengers is a priority alpha requirement. I cannot manage them if they do not trust me.”

“Fine. I want more details on the Asgardian though. Military strength. Additional powers. Weaknesses. What about him can we target if necessary to neutralize him?”

“Very little,” she offered. “He can go toe-to-toe with the Other Guy. He has proven his mettle in combat.”

“Everyone has a weakness.”

“Every man does,” she conceded. “Though he is a gregarious and generally happy man. His needs are simple and he seems to merely enjoy being amongst us.”

“Can you get close to him?”

“If necessary.”

“Keep earning their loyalty, we may need to use that if we have to take them out.”

Natasha didn’t say anything. The Avengers were a priority alpha requirement, loyalty fit into that. Betraying them would not serve the primary mission. “As you wish.” But that didn’t mean she couldn’t agree to this order, it didn’t actually conflict with the original.

“Sir,” a doctor said. “Everything seems to be in the green. There is additional neural scarring. We may have to be careful with these procedures in the future. We’re doing significant damage over time.”

“She heals, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“I do,” she said, even if her head was still on fire.

“Good, Rollins and Rumlow will accompany you to Moscow, they’ve arranged transportation. They’ll handle extraction if you need it.”

“I never need extraction. I can do that myself.”

“Of course you can. Dismissed Agent.”

She slipped off the table and crossed the room to the elevator.

“What about the asset, sir?”

“Keep him locked down. I told you he doesn’t need to be out or active when she is here.”

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the frosty chamber in the corner, it was dark and looked like an upright coffin. She’d seen chambers like that before.

They were terrible devices. The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside.

It was a pity the secretary hadn’t just asked her where the facility in Siberia was.

She’d been there. She could have told him.

But he didn’t ask.

Which meant, she didn’t have to tell.

Her head thundered and the buzzing in it filled her ears.

“There she is,” Rumlow smirked as she exited the elevator. “Let’s go, Romanoff, we’ve got work to do.”

“I’m surprised you’re not sitting back there with her,” Rollin said once they were in the car.

“Fuck no,” Rumlow said. “The bitch would freeze my balls off. I like them where they are thank you very much and if you’re smart, you won’t touch her either.”

Rollins laughed. “I’ve wanted a piece of that since day one.”

“You replaced the last jackass who tried. So keep that in mind.”

Despite the pain, Natasha looked out the window and smiled. Her reflection stared back at her.

_“You’re going to break us, aren’t you?” the reflection asked as white began to edge her vision._

_“I won’t break,” Natasha told her. “We’re marble.”_

_“Then why are you trapped in these nightmares?”_

_“Because my life was a nightmare. Now I’m going to wake up…”_

_“You can’t wake up. We hid everything for a reason.”_

_“We didn’t forget it,” she argued. “It was taken from us. What was lost, can be found.”_

_“Only if you pay a price.”_

Something hot burst inside her head and everything went blank.

**Steve**

“What’s going on?”

Alarms were going off on several of the monitors and Tony had a StarkPad in his hand and his fingers were flying. As much as Steve wanted to grab him and ask, he didn’t dare interrupt. Bucky had gone rigid next to him. He’d gotten Bucky to leave for a few hours, eat, sleep, shower. The only reason he’d convinced him at all was because Tony was there.

Strange had moved to a different console, Shuri had re-entered the room and then as suddenly as all the alarms had been blaring they silenced.

Tony exhaled harshly and he wasn’t the only one. “We need to quiet it down.”

“What happened?” Steve asked again.

“We were doing the second stimulation, she had such a positive response to the first one…”

“It burst several blood vessels,” Strange added and Steve’s stomach lurched. “She had a stroke. This one would be significant, but we’re getting electrical activity in all the right areas. Stark, you shut off the nanites.”

“They are in maintenance mode,” Tony answered. “Only working to bridge. Cauterized two of the bleeders at least until she can repair them herself.” The words were horrifying enough but the sick look on Tony’s face was what held Steve captive.

“How bad is it?” Bucky asked, his voice soft.

“I don’t know,” Tony said and finally looked at them. “It was going fine, almost twenty-four hours and she’d nearly restored that whole section. But—something else happened.”

“Going over that now,” Strange said, his attention focused on the panel in front of him. Tony put a hand against the glass where Natasha rested and Steve folded his arms as he watched the replay on the screen, it was all images of her brain but there was a moment Strange froze the screen where there was a surge. “She burst one her own.”

“What?” Tony said.

“This wasn’t the one we targeted,” Shuri confirmed. “That one is here—look you can see the damage, this one is here. She broke one on her own. That was why the blood vessels were compromised. This wasn’t us…”

“It’s the architecture,” Strange ‘s expression grew foreboding.

“You said that earlier,” Bucky stated quietly. “You said that there was underlying damage to the formation of her brain is that why…”

“Yes and no,” Strange answered, but the firmness in his tone belied the ambiguity and for once Steve wished they’d just answer it clearly without having to be prodded.

“It’s not just the architecture,” Tony countered. “It’s scarring from whatever the device was…you can see the incision points. It’s like in healing here, she pulled on the tissue…Everything in the brain is connected.” He looked sideways at Strange. “Like a tendon to a muscle which connects it to a bone.”

“You pull one,” Steve said slowly. “You tear it, it weakens the whole and where it’s trying to reform, it’s pulling on the rest, which means it will tear more.”

That Steve understood.

“How long before she rips another one?” Bucky asked. “And is this going to damage her permanently?”

The _I don’t knows_ were written all over their faces. “24 hours for the first one, maybe 48 for these and somewhere in there, it pulls on the others.” Tony pursed his lips. “She’s healing faster than I expected.”

The boost to her serum, the time in cryo—the nanites—they were focusing on everything. Natasha insisted they’d never put her in cryo in the past, but maybe this was why. Course, it didn’t matter except…

“You said she can dream,” Steve stated. “You said you dreamed.” He looked at Bucky.

“Yes.”

“Nightmares, too?” He studied his best friend’s face as his frown deepened, then Bucky nodded slowly.

“I would relive some of the worst pieces…”

“Nat has nightmares, she snaps herself out of them, most of the time. But we know the episodes are like—awake nightmares, right?”

Tony faced him. “Trauma. Check her cortisol levels and adrenaline…”

“That would do it,” Strange said and then everyone was moving.

Bucky gripped Steve’s shoulder and Steve glanced at him, seeing the same tortured fear in his eyes that haunted Steve. Natasha could be trapped in a nightmare, one severe enough it produced an intense physical reaction.

“Friday, we need to tweak endorphin production—if we up her endorphins, we can lower the cortisol and the adrenaline, that will counter pain…”

The words washed over Steve as Shuri joined Tony suggesting they could add something to the oxygen mix she was receiving.

“Psychotropics,” Bucky whispered quietly and Steve hung his head.

Another thirty minutes passed as he and Bucky waited and finally Tony joined them at the chairs. He sank down and said, “Levels are dropping back to normal. The swelling—did not get worse, in fact, it has gone down. The bleeding has all stopped, too. It’s just—healing now.”

“Will the psychotropics affect her memories?” Steve had to know, the whole point of this exercise for Natasha was to get back her daughter, if she lost it because of something they had to do…

“We didn’t use them, Strange pointed out, and he was right, that they could increase the bleeding. What we need is her serum doing its job and we could send small electrical pulses to the pleasure center of her brain, it releases endorphins and it seems to be working. The worst—she’s going to have some really great erotic dreams.”

As hopefully earnest as that offer was, Steve couldn’t smile.

They were twenty-four hours in. Tony thought at least another forty-eight and they weren’t done. “How many blocks are there altogether?”

“More than dozen,” Tony told him.

Bucky’s fists clenched.

She looked so damn peaceful in that thing.

“So this could happen again?”

“Maybe—hopefully if we keep tweaking as we go, as soon as the adrenaline and cortisol levels climb, we stimulate the pleasure center and get the endorphins flowing again. If we can keep it stabilized… Strange thinks it’ll be enough. Shuri’s not positive, but she likes it as a solution. They just went to run it past some of the Wakandan doctors.”

The cloak hadn’t moved from its position by the cryotube.

“You should get some sleep,” he said, but Tony snorted.

“I’ll sleep right here.” He tapped the pad and then put his feet up as he leaned his head back. “If anything happens I need to be on top of it.”

But he didn’t close his eyes. They were all watching Natasha…

“Boss,” Friday said quietly and Tony sighed.

“Yeah, Baby Girl, what is it?”

“Ms. Potts and Ms. Carter have updates for the team. I’m still working on the investigation for Dr. Banner. I believe I’ve tracked where he was staying in the Sierra Nevada.”

Yeah, because they needed more news about Bruce. 

“I’ll take it,” Steve said and Tony eyed him. Bucky's expression turned foreboding.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I got four hours. This is your four. I just need to find a phone or grab comm.”

Tony pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it over. “All yours.”

“Who do you want first, Captain Rogers?” Friday offered.

“Let’s talk to Sharon,” Steve said as he put the phone to his ear and he bumped Bucky’s shoulder with his fist before walking out of the room. 


	62. Defiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalia's memories continue to unfold, Bucky wants to question Bruce, and at least one ally takes a stand

**Chapter Sixty-Two**

_ Defiance _

**Natalia**

_ 1973 _

The next day, she kept watch on the Stark estate. She tracked when Mrs. Stark left, this time with both Ana and the boy. The child had been arguing, but both women ushered him into the car. Director Carter arrived mere moments after they left, which suggested she had been waiting for them to leave as well.

Mary issued a complaint and Natalia glanced down at the stroller she had acquired that morning. One of the women on the street where Natalia's apartment was location had seen her carrying or letting Mary toddle next to her and had offered to give it to her. The gesture was unmistakably kind, but Natalia paid for the stroller anyway. She didn’t want to owe anyone.

The feeling of someone watching her slid up her spine and she made a show of fixing Mary’s very much fine shoe as she scanned the street. A single man in a suit and top hat a block away glanced back to his newspaper and then made a show of checking his watch.

He wore an under the shoulder holster and his suit hadn’t been fitting properly to conceal the bind around his left shoulder.

Right-handed. A second man across the street leaned against a light pole, smoking a cigarette. His leather jacket was too heavy for the weather but perfect for concealing weapons. Turning away from the watchers, she set out pushing the stroller. She’d dressed like one of the neighborhood’s au pairs and she’d found a blond wig to cover the red.

Two more men moved just inside the gates leading to the mansion. These were dressed as gardeners. Though in her experience, few gardeners were that armed. Another pair loitered toward the end of the street, covering all points. She passed one with a nod and a smile. He even waved at Mary as she continued along the block.

Mrs. Stark often took her son to Central Park or had the last few times she’d watched them so she took a leisurely stroll as though she were merely out to run a few errands with her charge.

It wasn’t a long walk to Central Park, but Mrs. Stark favored two different spots. She found her at the first one, near the playground but her son was feeding ducks as Mrs. Stark and Ana huddled close together wearing matching worried expressions.

Natalia took her time on the stroll, avoiding direct observation but scanning them. It was just the two women and the little boy. No guards. They expected her at the house and sent them out low profile. So either they trusted her not to harm them because she hadn’t the day before, or they wanted to concentrate their men at the house to catch her.

Either way, she was not going to play along.

There were other children and nannies beginning to move in that direction so Natalia simply moved along with them. Mary was half-dozing. She’d been so wound up the night before, she’d refused to sleep and Natalia had walked the floors with her to keep her quiet.

If this did not work today, she would move on to another plan. Mary needed her father, but she also needed peace. The large sunglasses she wore hid her eyes as did the scarf she had tied over her blonde wig.

“Mrs. Jarvis,” she said by way of greeting. “Mrs. Stark.”

Ana stiffened as she pivoted to face her. “Ms. Rogers.” Guilt etched into every line of her smile and Mrs. Stark frowned fiercely.

“Did you follow us?”

“Yes,” Natalia told her. “I did not like the look of so many agents around your home. I thought perhaps your husband misunderstood that when I said I would return today, I did not want to be collected by SHIELD.”

Making an impatient huffing noise, Mrs. Stark said, “Howard is not planning to have them collect you. But you indicated some danger, so they wanted to take precautions.”

Meeting her gaze, Natalia studied the woman closely. “Non ci credi.”

Surprise flickered through her eyes. Ana darted a glance from her to Mrs. Stark and then back. “No, Peggy è preoccupato che tu sia una pianta e quel bambino è solo uno stratagemma.”

Was she now?

“Ha detto che le hai ricordato un'altra donna. Uno che conoscevano anni fa. Subito dopo la guerra ... Che non era sicuro farlo al di fuori di una stanza degli interrogatori. Quando il bambino era al sicuro.”

Another woman. Tatiana. It had to be. Natalia had been sent to clean up Tatiana’s mess. It was the one time she had been close to Howard Stark in person, but she had avoided meeting them or letting them see her.

“Mrs. Stark,” Ana said carefully. “Perhaps we should…”

“It’s fine. Would you go check on Tony for me?” She glanced over to her son. Ana frowned, then nodded.

Once they were alone, the woman looked at her again. “You didn’t come here to threaten me.”

“No,” Natalia agreed. “It occurred to me, but it wouldn’t serve a purpose. But if they cannot be trusted, then I need to go.”

“Wait…” The woman went to clasp her arm and Natalia reversed the hold so swiftly Mrs. Stark flinched. “I’m sorry—I just… You intrigued Howard. He rarely discusses his private work, but whatever you said to him. He was up all night in his lab and he argued with Peggy that you were the real thing. You had to be.”

So Stark would trust her but Carter not?

Releasing her, Natalia took a step back and the sense of being watched stroked over her and she glanced to the side to find the young boy staring at her intently. “Don’t hurt my mom.”

“She didn’t hurt me, Tony. I startled her. Go play with Ana.”

“You’re the lady from yesterday,” Tony said, head tilted. “What happened to your hair?”

“Magic,” Natalia told him.

He blinked, then grinned. “Magic isn’t real.”

“Oh, and you know this?”

“I do.” He lifted his chin. “Magic is just science stupid people don’t understand.”

“Anthony,” Mrs. Stark said in a near scandalized tone and he winced. “What have I said about using that word?”

“Sorry, Mommy,” he said, all puppy dog eyes and earnestness. “But Daddy says that.”

“Yes, I know. Daddy shouldn’t either. Now. Go play.”

The boy lingered a second then said, “I’m Tony.” Then he held out his hand to her. Mrs. Stark sighed and Tony gave her a look of profound innocence. “I’m being polite, Mommy.”

“I know,” she conceded then glanced at Natalia.

Shifting slightly, Natalia crouched and offered him a hand. “I’m Natalie.”

“Natalie?”

“Natalie.”

He nodded, then leaned forward and whispered, “I like the red hair better.” Then he grinned and ran back to Ana.

Shaking her head, Natalia stood and looked to Mrs. Stark. “He is a good son.”

“He’s the best, spoiled and perhaps too intelligent by half, but—I love him.” Sobering, she faced her. “If I can arrange for you to meet with Howard privately, no Peggy—what are you going to do?”

Without Carter that meant without SHIELD resources. But Stark had money. A lot of it. Natalia wasn’t sure she trusted SHIELD anyway. “I asked for his help. I would ask again, if he cannot or will not, I can’t stay here.”

The longer she lingered in the city, the more likely an agent would spot her. There had to be over a thousand KGB agents embedded in the country, many of them in larger cities—like Manhattan.

It only took one.

Mrs. Stark nodded. “Give me one hour. Can you do that?”

“Will I regret it?”

“No, I’m going to go back, but I want you to stay here with Ana and Tony. I am leaving my son here with you both. Does that allay your concerns?”

“Though it worries me about your wisdom.” While she hadn’t meant it as a joke, the other woman laughed.

“Let’s just say I have an instinct about people. I know when they mean harm. You don’t. Not at the moment, so I’m trusting that.”

The woman genuinely believed that and she hadn’t lied, not once. “Then I’m going to choose to trust that you are not bringing the agents back here.”

“One hour,” Mrs. Stark said then hustled over to Ana. Mary began to complain and Natalia freed her from the stroller and lifted her out. Some time in the park would do her good and she immediately ran toward the play equipment. But ran back when Natalia whistled.

Tony and Ana looked at her—Tony with curiosity and Ana with trepidation, but Natalia ignored them both as she scanned their surroundings. She clocked where everyone was. Tony had found a couple of boys to play with but Mary was heading on a beeline for the slide. She’d never seen one before.

None of the parks they’d spent any time in the last few weeks had something like that. When a kid came winging down it, Mary stopped abruptly then looked back at Natalia as she wavered on her feet.

“I’ll take her,” Tony said, suddenly appearing at her side. He was a swift little monkey, she’d give him that. “If you want.”

Mary stared at him with big eyes and then looked up at Natalia. But when Tony offered his hand, Mary retreated.

“It’s all right, malyshka, watch the boy. You should show her what you are going to do.”

“It’s fun, watch.” Then he rushed over to the ladder and climbed up. “See me?” He waved. Mary waved at him but watched intently as he slid down and then leapt off at the bottom. “See?”

Mary swung that questioning look up to Natalia. “You can try it if you want, malyshka. Do you want to slide?”

Confusion painted Mary’s face, but then her jaw tensed and Natalia read the determination there. She hurried over to the ladder and Natalia was a half a step behind.

“I’ll be down here,” Tony called. Natalia tracked her balance as Mary climbed, each step a little unsteady, but she kept going. At the top, Mary paused and glanced back at her.

“You’re fine,” Natalia told her. At the top, Mary sat down and then shot her another grin before she scooted forward and then began to slide down. At the bottom, she didn’t leap off like the Stark boy so much as get to the end and let out a peal of laughter that turned Natalia’s heart inside out.

Tony raced around and Natalia moved to let him climb up and Mary hurried behind him, but Tony was already down and off before Mary made it to the ladder.

As with before, he stayed right down there as Mary climbed and waited for her to slide down. The whole thing made Natalia’s heart hurt. Mary didn’t play with other children. Torn between encouraging Mary’s happiness and needing her to keep her distance—they wouldn’t be staying here—Natalia kept scanning the park. Friends could be liabilities.

Attachments were dangerous.

It had grown noisier over the last thirty minutes. Children surrounded them. Little ones in the sandbox, their babbling and excited voices pulling at her. Some older kids were on the swings. A couple were on a teeter-totter, shoving hard to get back in the air.

Kids ran.

Kids screamed.

Kids just…played.

There was no discipline or requirements. Some of the au pairs hovered, but most were on the fringes—just watching as the children raced around. Another little girl toddled up to Mary and Mary stared at her with the widest eyes. She’d never seen another child, not up close. On the trip across Canada, Natalia had avoided people until she couldn’t. She’d certainly never taken Mary to a play park.

Natalia couldn’t really think of a time she’d been in one. Not to do more than make a drop and get out. She could blend anywhere, but it was as though she’d stepped onto an alien world.

Laughing, Mary raced with the other little girl to the ladder and when the girl tried to climb up first Mary grabbed her.

“No,” Natalia said firmly and Mary let her go immediately and looked at her. “Patience, malyshka. Always patience.”

Rounded eyes filled with a hint of tears and her lower lip trembled. Raising an eyebrow, Natalia met that sweet look unflinchingly. Mary could turn her papa inside out with that look, Natalia had to inoculate herself. And just as soon as the tears appeared, they vanished and Mary shot her a grin. She was climbing after the other girl and then let out a shriek as she slid down.

It was raw. Open. And utterly free.

This was what she risked to go after James. But she had to—because this was what she had to save. Mary deserved this.

All those months at the cabin, alone with just her and James and Mary seemed to flower right in front of her.

Friends.

Playmates.

Innocents like her.

None of these children would try to shiv her over a toy. None of them would need to fight her for an extra spoonful at mealtime. She wouldn’t need to secret away weapons for the moment they came for her.

Around and around, Mary, her new little friend and Tony went. Instead of wandering off, Tony stuck with the little girls. Though another boy called out to him.

Still, Natalia didn’t dare relax her vigilance.

“She’s wonderful little girl,” Ana said as she eased over to join her. She’d been drifting toward Natalia for the last few minutes.

“She is.” Natalia nodded. Mary’s fascination with the slide had ended, now she was climbing on a little spinner with the other girl and Tony was telling them to hold on as he started pushing it. Natalia took a step forward.

“It’s safe,” Ana assured her. “He can’t go very fast yet, though he tries.”

They stood in silence watching as Tony got it to spin and no, not very fast.

“May I ask you a question?” Beneath her English was a hint of Eastern European. Hungarian perhaps, though it had faded tremendously.

“You just did,” Natalia pointed out. “So I would hazard the answer is yes, you may.”

It had been nearly forty-five minutes. In fifteen more, she would have to peel Mary away. That did not promise to be an enjoyable experience.

“Why did you use pretense yesterday? You could have simply made an appointment with Mr. Stark?”

“What is the likelihood I would have gotten the appointment with a total stranger?” The other woman seemed to have no answer for that question. “Then you understand why I had to choose as I did.”

They were off the little spinner and rushing back toward them. Mary tumbled, catching herself on her hands as she hit both of her knees to the ground. Immediately, her gaze sought Natalia’s. Lifting her chin, Natalia gave her a steady look and Mary made a face as she pushed herself up.

“Otay,” she said to her new friends before wiping her dirty hands against her dress then hurrying on toward. “Mama. Hun-ree.”

Hungry meant she wanted to nurse.

“I have snacks,” Ana offered.

“Snacks!” Tony said with a cheer.

But Mary tugged at her leg and Natalia scooped her up. After collecting her stroller, she murmured, “Not yet, malyshka. Wait a bit for Mama.”

It wasn’t safe out here.

“We have crackers.”

Tony had a muffin in his hand as he hurried over to meet them. He held it up to Mary, but Natalia took it.

“Thank you.” Only after she took a seat did she pinch off a corner of the muffin and put it under her tongue, she rolled the flavor around her mouth. Very few poisons were totally tasteless and she could ingest many without too much harm, but Mary was little and she wasn’t feeding her anything she wasn’t certain of.

Ana stared at her with a worried frown. “It’s safe.” She nodded to where Tony was stuffing one in his mouth. Nearly fitting the whole thing in it. Raising her brows, Natalia wondered if he would choke but he managed to chew by only spewing a few crumbs.

With care, Natalia pinched off more and offered it to Mary. Mary, who had been staring at Tony tried to take the whole muffin and Natalia stopped her with a look. Then Mary took the bite.

“Mouth closed, malyshka,” she reminded her. “We do not spray our food.”

Tony snapped his mouth shut and Ana began to chuckle. Natalia scanned the park and spotted Mrs. Stark hurrying toward them.

She had less than a minute to spare. Flushed and panting, she smiled lovingly as Tony hurled himself at her for a hug. “Jarvis has brought the car for us,” she said. “Would you please accompany us, Ms. Rogers? I would love to take you out for brunch.”

Natalia flicked a gaze to behind her then back to the woman. “You’re not alone.”

“What?”

Mrs. Stark’s eyes held genuine surprise. “No, Jarvis and I left…”

“Don’t look,” Natalia told her, keeping her head tilted as though her attention was on Mary as she tracked one, two—three—people who did not belong. One woman and two men.

Ana shifted. “Mrs. Stark…”

They didn’t move like agents. The two men were dressed in casual clothing, but they were both armed. The woman had on a smart dress, and a wide hat—but she was also sporting at least one gun.

Lifting Mary, Natalia settled her in the stroller and buckled her in. She needed to get armor to line it with. “Treat me like the au pair,” she informed Mrs. Stark.

“What?”

“Treat me like the au pair,” she repeated. The stroller had enough room. “Put Tony in the front here.”

He scowled. “I’m not a baby.”

“Tony,” Mrs. Stark coaxed. “Let’s just cooperate, yes? We can do something fun later if you’re good now.”

“But I can walk.”

They didn’t have time for this. The men were stationed where they would have to pass them and the woman circled. Likely to box them in.

“Get in the stroller, young Master Stark, or be carried like an infant,” she informed the little boy and he stared at her. With a huffed sigh, he climbed into the stroller and she helped to settle him.

“It’s not comfortable.”

“It won’t be for long,” Ana soothed then looked at her and Mrs. Stark. “What are we doing?”

“You are pushing the stroller,” Natalia told her as she shifted to the back of the item. “Mrs. Stark will walk with you…”

“And you?” Mrs. Stark said.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

They both moved a little uneasily, but Tony complained and Mary scowled.

“Behave, malyshka,” Natalia told her. “Quiet time.” Then she put a finger to her lips.

Mary’s face turned mutinous for a moment, but she put her finger to her lips, then stuffed more muffin in her mouth.

“Why don’t you sing for the little one, Tony?” Ana suggested but Natalia tuned out the conversation as they began to walk. She tracked her three targets, diaper bag in hand and moving like she was having to hurry to keep up with the other two.

They wouldn’t move right here, too many others to get in the field of fire. Separating herself slightly gave her the advantage of tracking their attention.

The stroller.

Mary wouldn’t earn that kind of interest unless they knew who she was and if they knew her, they’d never ignore Natalia blond wig or not.

Stark was wealthy.

The female narrowed the distance.

“Whatever happens,” Natalia said. “Keep moving. I will come for my daughter if we’re separated.”

Her gut churned at the very idea. But if she had to kill three people, she may need time to hide the bodies before she could go to her.

“We’ll be in the car,” Mrs. Stark said in a no-nonsense tone. “Let’s just hurry. Nothing is going to happen.”

But the route they took would leave them exposed to an ambush. They’d crossed a little bridge and the sounds from the play park fell away. Mrs. Stark had come from a different direction than she’d left via earlier. They needed to exit the park nearer the drive cutting through it rather than the edge that meant following a winding path through the trees.

Her heart slowed, her awareness climbed and she adjusted her weight as she moved. The shoes she had on would come off. They could be used as weapons.

The trees were getting tighter together.

Five.

Mrs. Stark picked up her pace.

Four.

Ana glanced back at her once, but Natalia shook her head.

Three.

Tony kept singing.

Two.

Natalia flexed her hand on the strap of the diaper bag.

One.

The two men stepped out one holding a gun and the other surging forward. Wrist snapping, Natalia released the first throwing blade it went right into the throat of the man lunging. Blood fountained, but she was already running. As he went down, she stepped on him and launched.

Her skirt split even as she caught the gunman with thighs around his shoulders and she swung, pivoting her entire weight and flipped him. He hit the ground, head first with a sickening crunch. She retrieved the gun and ignored the horrified looks from Mrs. Stark and Ana as they began to run. She had to shut out Mary’s sudden crying or Tony’s yells.

The woman from behind her had a gun out and Natalia pointed the weapon she’d taken and put two holes in her.

One in the heart.

The other in the head.

Thirty seconds.

Three targets down.

She wiped off the gun, stripped it down and scattered the pieces. She did the same with the woman’s gun, then she pulled out a wipe from the bag and wiped off her hands and checked her dress before she stripped off the wig. 

Retrieving the blade she cleaned it as well, then re-secured it. As she followed the route the others had taken she discarded the majority of her disguise. A second scarf from the bag she tied around her red hair just before her jacket went into the trash as well. 

As she cleared the trees, she found Mrs. Stark, Ana, and the children with Stark and Mr. Jarvis.

The look on their faces went from horrified to relieved.

“We should go,” she informed them, removing Mary from the stroller and cradling her close.

“Yes,” Stark said as he glanced behind her. “I heard the shot, are you all right?”

“I am fine. We should go.”

Everyone loaded into the car and Natalia cradled Mary who kept nuzzling at her shirt. She rubbed her back. Soon she would have to wean her. They needed to start and at the same time, she was deeply reluctant to sever that last tie. When that happened, Mary wouldn’t _ need _her as much and that might be for the best.

There were sirens in the distance as Jarvis pulled out. Ana sat in the front seat next to him.

“I told you, we need to add more bodyguards,” Stark told Mrs. Stark.

“I don’t want to live surrounded by fear,” she countered, hugging Tony to her.

“You want to live though,” Natalia said quietly. “More, you want him to. You were not the target.”

Mrs. Stark’s eyes widened and Stark’s expression grew fierce. “You seem to be doing my son a lot of favors, Natalie.”

She shrugged. “He’s a child. No child deserves that experience.”

None of them.

They said nothing, but they were also not heading back to the house.

“You, Tony, and Ana are going to stay at the penthouse for a few days,” Stark told his wife. “I’m increasing security and I’ll have Obie and the others do a check. But I want you somewhere secure. I may have Peggy send people there.”

“What about…”

Stark glanced at Natalia. “I have two favors to repay now. We’ll take care of it.”

Then nothing else was said until he’d seen his family safely inside. Mary grew more insistent so while she waited in the car, she shifted the gun into her diaper bag where she could reach it easily then tossed a blanket over her shoulder before opening her shirt, Mary latched almost immediately, all her earlier upset forgotten.

“I beg your pardon,” Jarvis said politely, though he’d not turned around once and it didn’t matter if he had.

“No need,” she told him. “She has waited long enough and I’m relatively confident, you wouldn’t still be sitting in the car if this was a ploy to get me to SHIELD.”

“Indeed not,” the man stated, but he finally glanced back at her. “The agents assigned to this morning’s meeting were not Mr. Stark’s idea nor were they there to capture you.”

“If you say so,” she said. Though she could have guessed the director of SHIELD wanted a lengthier discussion with her.

“I do,” Jarvis insisted. A moment later the back door opened and Stark returned.

“Let’s go Jarvis.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where to now?” Natalia asked him and he glanced at her, frowning once then averting his eyes to the window.

“Somewhere secure, I will have to tell Peggy at some point. But as I said yesterday, you have my attention.”

“You verified the photographs.”

“I did.” He looked at her. “The child is really Bucky Barnes’?”

Natalia nodded. “He does not go by that name anymore. I call him James. But yes, Mary is his daughter.”

“And yours.” Not a question, just a confirmation.

Another nod.

“And you’re no older than you were the last time I met you.”

“As I said yesterday, I have no memory of that meeting. It doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” There were many things she didn’t remember. Her experiences curated and edited to please their handlers.

“Peggy believes they continued hunting for the super soldier serum though none exists anymore. Not even his blood.”

His. Captain America, she presumed.

James’ friend.

It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t say anything.

“I don’t know how I can help you yet, Natalie,” Stark told her. “But I’ll figure out something. Let’s just get you two safe first.”

Mary dozed, but nursed lazily, so Natalia left her to do that. These days were numbered, so she would take advantage for as long as she could.

“Jarvis…”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“Let’s make sure no one is following us. Peggy is probably feeling a little tetched today.”

“Already on it, sir.”

**Bucky**

Steve leaned over a sketchpad, his hand flying. He’d already broken a handful of pencils from the way he gripped them. Tony was sound asleep, head back and arms folded across his chest, almost hugging the StarkPad. Nearly 10 hours since all the alarms went off and the monitors remained steady, the amber color not a comfort but at least not a terror.

He’d left, for just a little while. Ate something and slept exactly four hours. Well, he’d lain down for four hours. Bucky hadn’t slept for all of it. In his dreams, she was right there, fighting, dancing, or running—but always disappearing before he could get to her.

Strange had brought up the long-term effects twice now, but their monitoring suggested she continued to heal but that brought up other concerns.

_ “I’m not done,” he whispered and her eyebrows rose. _

_ “No?” _

_ “No,” he murmured as he began kissing his way down her body. _

_ “Well,” she gasped as he sucked on a sensitive nipple. “We do need to boost my serum.” _

_ God, he loved her. “We do… don’t we?” _

Friday chimed on the comm. “Captain Rogers, we have an update on the shooter from Los Angeles.”

We?

Tony sat up abruptly as Steve stopped sketching and asked, “Which is?”

“Contract hires. All paid through numbered accounts in the Caymans, Switzerland, and Panama. Arms were provided to both groups, agents embedded in the groups including Valenzuela Demonico, the suicide bomber. She is currently in FBI custody and not answering any questions.”

“That’s it?” Steve asked quietly. “No links between those accounts and who paid them?”

“Not yet,” Friday said. “But I assure you, I am working diligently to link the numbered accounts to physical identities.”

“So it was all a setup,” Tony said scrubbing a hand over his face. “But was it her or was it any one of us?”

“At the moment, it only matters that everyone needs to be vigilant and we needed to find who it was.” Steve blew out a breath, aggravation raked over every word. He’d been on and off the phone over the last several hours. “What about tracking Banner?”

“We have the location in the Sierra Nevada. A cabin, the front half of it was destroyed suggesting Dr. Banner exited as The Other Guy. The trail shows he headed straight for Los Angeles.”

Bucky tilted his head. “For Natalia.”

“At this time, we can only speculate based on the trajectory and where he appeared, but Nat was not the only one in the square.”

No, they’d all been there. But that had been where Natalia and Clint had been clearing. Where the bomber had been waiting.

“Too many variables,” Steve said. “And it would take near psychic insight to get the bomber in position to ambush her there much less send the Other Guy on a beeline.”

“Except he lied…” Tony said and Bucky shifted his attention to the engineer.

“What?”

“Bruce told me he was on his way to town, just over a month ago, and the next thing he knows he’s in the square. But if he went straight from the cabin to the square—then his missing month is a lie.”

Not remotely on his side, Bucky asked, “How much does he remember when he’s that thing?”

“Not a lot,” Steve said. “At least as far as we can tell. He always has to be briefed afterwards.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “When Nat first started working with him—he had no idea The Other Guy was listening to her.”

“Harder to brainwash him then.”

“Be impossible,” Tony said. “He gets too scared or too furious—too much pain. He turns into the giant green rage monster.”

“Nothing’s impossible,” Bucky stated despite their askance looks. Strange turned toward them.

“He’s correct. Nothing is impossible,” the doctor stated. “If Natasha was able to tame the beast, then arguably—she did not do it using brute force.”

Steve and Tony glanced at each other but Bucky focused on the tube where she slept. “She doesn’t need brute force.”

“Then, in theory, the manipulation of Dr. Banner would also be possible without brute force.”

“Only if he trusted them…” Tony said slowly.

“Or they intrigued him enough,” Steve countered and Tony frowned. “You and Bruce together, Tony—you created Ultron, you designed the Vision matrix, it was both of you feeding off each other.”

“Red told you that,” Tony guessed, with a faintly sour expression.

“I’m not wrong,” Steve leaned forward and spread his hands. “You two worked well together and he trusted you. You aren’t afraid of his other half. It meant you could push each other.”

“So who else does he trust?”

“Limited pool,” Tony admitted scratching at his goatee. He’d shaved at some point earlier, but the deep shadows under his eyes suggested he needed far more sleep than he’d been getting. “Betty Ross.”

“The general’s daughter?” Steve frowned. “But she wouldn’t do this.”

“No, but he might be manipulated with her. And Betty’s moved on, she’s seeing someone who works at the White House but trust me when I say there is no love lost between her and her father. He persecuted Bruce for too long.”

“Who else?” Bucky asked.

“Us…” Tony said. “He didn’t… even his old lab assistants. He didn’t work with them. Jane Foster might fall into that category, we worked with her some, but mostly remote. Erik Selvig. Neither are people I would qualify as likely to manipulate him. Helen…”

Tony paused.

Steve frowned. “Helen’s been working at the compound.”

“For the last few weeks, I brought her back,” Tony said slowly. “She has her own facilities in South Korea. But after everything—when we were bringing Clint back, I called her in.”

Helen Cho, who’d been fascinated with Natalia’s medical history. “Can she be manipulated?”

Tony slanted a look at him as did Steve.

“She’s been in on this treatment plan for Natalia from the beginning.” On that note, he focused on Strange. “You’ve spoken with her.”

“I have. I didn’t detect anything off, but I also wasn’t looking for anything either.”

“Bruce has a friend,” Tony said. “Someone he won’t identify that’s got to the be the person, but—I don’t know how we get it out of him.”

“Then let’s ask him.” Bucky stood. “If he has the answers we need. We ask him. If he keeps fighting the answers, then he’s not an ally. You can stop treating him as one.”

“Woah…” Tony rose.

“Buck,” Steve said.

But he didn’t need to hear their objections. He understood the threat. The files on Banner he’d been read into stated clearly to avoid pissing him off. Bucky didn’t care about that as much.

He’d just approached the guards in the hall when Steve caught up to him. “Bucky, wait…”

“For what Stevie? For another incident? For him to dither more? He’s either going to help or he’s not. But if he has anything to do with why she ended up in there, I want to know that now. I’m done with the past gunning for her.” More than done. They would never escape their pasts. Not fully, but if a little extra-judicious pruning could save them future grief. “Anyone can be killed. You just have to figure out what it takes.”

Steve’s expression tensed. “Buck…” He shot a look toward the guards, then nodded away from them. “We can’t kill him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“At the moment, I kind of do—he said he tried to eat a bullet once.” Steve’s voice pitched lower as they moved away from the guards. The hallway was mostly empty but there were quieter areas, little reflection pools. Everything about Wakanda mingled nature and technology. Even here, where they worked in a laboratory and medical facilities, there were these spaces. “The Other Guy spat it out.”

“Probably because Banner knew the bullet was coming. A .50 calibre from two miles away means the bullet would hit long before he knew it was coming. You take off the head, he’s gone.” A missile strike might do it. Rip out the heart. “Heart and brain. Double-tap.”

“Jesus—Buck.”

The Soldier in him met his gaze. “He’s a threat to Natalia.”

“He might not be.”

“I’m not good with might. He’s dangerous. You saw him when he hit her. If not for Tony’s armor, she’d be dead.” He was _ not _ okay with that.

Clearing his throat, Tony joined them. “Strange is watching Red. You don’t need to talk to him, Bucky. That’s a bad idea.”

Meeting Tony’s gaze, Bucky folded his arms. “Do you have a better one?”

“No, but that’s why I had Vision come. He’s been down there talking to Bruce. He has no skin in this game—and your history with Red and his could complicate things.”

“He was a footnote at best,” Bucky said flatly.

“Okay, but that’s a big ass foot and I don’t want him trying to plant it up your ass because you need a target for all that aggression.” The bland tone contradicted the worry in his eyes. “I’m not explaining that to Red.”

“And if you kill him—Nat may not be fond of that either, at least while we don’t know what’s going on,” Steve said quietly. “You wouldn’t be fond of it either. This…”

“Don’t say it’s not me, Steve. Eliminating threats is very much me. I did it for you, I’ve done it for her and I’ll do it for this family she’s built.”

Silence met his statement.

Movement attracted his attention and Clint strolled up. Like the rest of them, he hadn’t been getting much sleep. “Can I contribute or is this pissing contest just for the three of you?”

“It’s not a pissing contest, Legolas. We’re trying to figure out Bruce’s angle and how to get him talking…” Tony sighed. “Even our questions have questions.”

“Tell him about Nat.”

“No.” Bucky stared at him, but Clint didn’t flinch.

“You want him to offer up information, you gotta give him something.”

“He asked about her,” Steve admitted.

“I don’t care.” He didn’t want the man anywhere near her.

“Buck…”

He pivoted to face Steve. Seriously?

“Maybe,” Steve said, raising his hands. “Maybe reading him in—gives him a reason to come clean with us. We know he wants to know… he wants to talk to her.”

Tony let out a long sigh. “I’m not saying yes or no to that. Normally, I’d want his input. He might have ideas that could help but…”

“But you don’t know and what we tell him he might use,” Bucky argued. “So just no.”

“I’m with Bucky on this one, Cap.” Tony glanced at Steve. “I know he wants to know, but there’s—there’s something off. We need more information.”

“Then we talk to Vision, get his report,” Steve said before rubbing at his beard. “I’d rather we weren’t picking a fight with him.”

“It won’t be a fight,” Bucky stated. He had zero intentions of trying to fight the guy. Killing him didn’t need a fight.

“If I might interject…” Friday volunteered.

“What is it Baby Girl?”

“We’re still tracking more information. Trying to follow his trail—and Former Director Fury has been in touch with Ms. Hill.”

Silence stretched taut between them.

“They are on their way to former Secretary Ross.”

Bucky exhaled. “What do we know?”

“Not enough,” Friday said and his gut tightened.

“When you do…”

“Boss will be the first to know, Sergeant Barnes, but I am doing everything I can to track the people who did this. I promise.”

“You don’t need to promise,” he told her. “You want to protect Natalia.”

“Yes,” Friday said. “I do.”

“Then we wait…” Steve said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Though he was tempted, Bucky didn’t shake him off. “And maybe we hit the gym.”

“I’m not in a mood to hold back Stevie.”

“Yeah well, the bullet holes are mostly closed and a little itchy. Come do your worst.”

Bucky tracked a look to Tony. “You’ll stay?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Don’t break anything permanent. Like I said, I’m not explaining that to Red.” Shaking his head, he headed back to the lab and Bucky looked at Steve.

“Let’s go.” Then he pinned Clint with a look. “No offense, you’re not invited.”

“None taken, if I don’t see it, I’m not explaining it to Nat either.” With that, he followed Tony.

“C’mon,” Steve said giving his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m not planning to go either easy.”

“Last one standing then…”

“Sure,” Steve said. “It’ll be fun.”

Natalia’s voice echoed that sentiment and for a split-second, Bucky smiled. She was going to wake up. She was going to be fine.

She had to be.

**Ladyhawke**

“I’m not a hero,” Laura said as she spoke into the microphone. Friday had locked down the suite and engaged Nat and Tony’s B.A.B.I.E.S. for her while Sharon and Sam entertained her own children with a movie in the theater room. Nate was already asleep. “I’m just one person who sits here and shares my thoughts and observations. But this is how I can be a hero, how I can say what needs to be said. I can’t save the world, but maybe—just maybe—I can save the people who save our world.”

She stared at a photograph on her phone. It was from Christmas morning, it had all of them in it. Friday had taken shots of the entire group together. Laughing, expressions relaxed, and some of them looking at each other. The love and affection there couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

“Every day, every time they’re needed, they fight to save our world. This didn’t just start with New York. They got a lot of press and notice then, sure. But for some of them—they’ve been doing this for a long time. It’s not always been glamorous world-saving missions, and most of them are missions none of us have ever heard about. When SHIELD files were released on the Internet a few years ago, people spent weeks and months pouring through them. So many missions, so many actions—a lot was revealed but even more, remained hidden. How many missions do we not know about where people like the Black Widow and Hawkeye went behind enemy lines to save people and to keep people safe?”

Licking her lips, she considered her next words. “In 1997, the Department of Defense declassified some missions reports for the Howling Commandos—including three missions they took into the then Soviet-controlled Russia in pursuit of Hydra assets left over from the war and new organizations rising from their shadows. A Howling Commando died on that mission. No one pinned an award on his chest, he didn’t get a ticker-tape parade.

“In 2005, there were bombings across Europe. Random, deadly, and they left mass casualties. Terror seemed to be the only goal and then the bombings abruptly stopped. A single paragraph appeared in the world media that special forces found and eliminated the terrorists. There were no survivors. The special forces in this case, as SHIELD files revealed, were Black Widow and Hawkeye. Two people who spent two months, tracking and eliminating the threat. Why?

“Because it was their job. These missions were compartmentalized because no one needed to know the work they were doing was for the greater good. Which really when you look at the big picture is what hero work is supposed to be about, right? Helping where you can, when you can, no matter who you are.

“Look at Captain America—Steve Rogers. Growing up, he was a scrawny little guy, a little smaller than Natasha Romanoff is now, but he still fought to help, un-ironically, the little guy or even the big guy if he thought they needed help. Then what does he do? Something that even his best friend thinks to this day was the stupidest thing he could have done. He let some scientists like Howard Stark experiment on him and through that, he became Captain America. So now he’s able to go and help people the way he always wanted to. 

“Tony Stark? Billionaire weapons maker? Playboy? He came out of a crippling kidnapping and changed his entire life and company. He _ invested _in us. He’s been fighting for us ever since.

“Natasha Romanoff changed her life around after figuring out the things the foreign agencies, and eventually even SHIELD had her doing wasn’t right. She fought to do the right thing even after they scrambled her brain and tortured her. It took her a while but she finally escaped. And now she does her best to do what’s right for everyone.

“Sometimes that’s saving the little guy and sometimes it’s the world, but in any case, it’s for the greater good. 

“The greater good is really a funny saying if you think about it. It’s just another way of saying sacrificing one to save many or in Spock’s words, “the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.” But why do we have to do that if we don’t need to? Why is that necessary? If it’s possible, why _ can’t _ we save everyone?”

She leaned forward, her shoulders tight. “And that’s what the governments behind the Accords don’t seem to understand. They’re willing to sacrifice a whole lot to do a whole lot of nothing when it comes down to it. Many nations seem like they want to wait around and watch and see if a problem will solve itself.

“They don’t care about the few. They don’t even want to try. And here’s the key—the Avengers _ do _ care. They _ do _ try. And they take tons of crap for it whether it goes to Hell in a handbasket and their side takes hits or it goes as smooth as skating a freshly Zambonied ice rink.

“The thing is whether these governments like it or not, they _ need _ the Avengers. And everyone needs heroes, whether it’s a man in a suit that’s not made of iron despite his name, an Android, an alien god, a man who likes Ren Faire far too much, two men out of time, a witch, or an ex-spy with a heart of gold, they give you someone to look up to.

“Are they perfect? Not by a long shot. Are we? Hell, no. But will they do their best to make the right choice to help when it’s needed? You bet your ass.”

She blew out a breath.

“Two days ago, in Los Angeles, the Avengers answered the call and walked into a warzone. They aren’t doing victory laps on the morning shows and they aren’t dropping sound bytes to be played on repeat. They did their jobs. They did their best to save lives… There are over forty-four people alive today because the Avengers went in two days ago. There are countless more who were never hurt or involved because the Avengers stopped the threat.”

She chewed her lower lip for a moment because she’d wrestled with this last part.

“The appearance of The Other Guy has triggered a lot of questions. Why is he there? Where has he been? Why did he attack the cops? What happened? I have some of those same questions—but here’s one no one else is asking… what would have happened if the Avengers hadn’t been there? Would The Other Guy have been the one who appeared in the middle of that warzone of heavily armed thugs in two massive gangs—what would have happened if they’d opened fire on him?”

Touching her finger to Clint’s face in the image, Laura sighed.

“You know—we don’t know the answers. So instead of speculating about them, maybe start thanking them. Instead of looking for their flaws, count our blessings. Our world would be so much darker without them and they’re asking us for nothing and we seem to want to take everything.”

She closed her eyes.

“And maybe… just maybe tonight, keep them in your prayers. This is Ladyhawke… thank you for listening.”

Then she cut the signal and leaned back in the chair.

“That was really quite lovely, Mrs. Barton.”

“Thank you, Friday. Are there any updates?”

“No, would you like me to get Mr. Barton on the phone for you?”

“Is he sleeping?”

“No,” Friday informed her and Laura sighed. “He’s not slept very much. None of them have.”

She flipped to the text message with him and sent _ I’m here if you need me. _

His response was almost instantaneous. _ I love you. _

_ I love you, too. _

Closing her eyes, she blew out a breath. “Please let Nat be all right and please, for once…” She prayed to whoever was listening. “Please give her a damn break. She deserves a win. They all do.”


	63. Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard and "Natalie" talk. Clint checks in with his family. Friday continues managing a dozen different tasks.

**Chapter Sixty-Three**

_ Research _

**Natalia**

_ 1973 _

Jarvis drove them around for nearly forty minutes and then they switched vehicles. She and Mary settled in the back of a delivery van and the cloth laundry bucket hardly the worst thing she’d ever sat in. The fact Stark sat inside another one seemed almost amusing. The sheets over them were freshly laundered and smelled decent. Mary slept through the whole experience.

At the house, Jarvis actually met the van and rolled the laundry buckets off. Once inside, he peeled back the sheets and offered her a hand. She allowed him to balance her as she climbed out with a sleeping Mary.

“Welcome back, Natalie,” Stark said. “If you’ll come with me, we should have privacy now. The house is locked and they all think we’re at the penthouse with Maria.”

“I doubt the ruse will fool them for long.”

“It doesn’t have to,” he said with the faintest of smirks. “I have safe rooms in the house. I have an entire safe floor.”

He led the way from the oversized laundry room through the first floor sitting room, foyer, and a family room before they passed right through a grand ballroom. Jarvis moved ahead of them and opened a pair of double doors to a rather cozy, smoking room. The lingering stench of cigars and pipe tobacco clung to the air. Beneath it all was the barest hint of cigarette smoke and it twisted something inside of her.

James smoked. Not all the time, but it was a vice he’d enjoyed and frankly she encouraged. If he took pleasure in something, she wanted him to have it. And he’d smoked on and off for years.

After closing the doors behind them, Jarvis moved to the wall sconce and twisted it then pulled. A bookcase swung away from the wall revealing a hidden door.

Clever.

“This way,” Stark continued then guided her down the steps. She still had the diaper bag and the gun. Her knives were also still on her wrists and she had two more strapped to her thighs.

Above the door to the smoking room closed with a soft hiss. They descended a full flight of stairs as the lights came on and it opened into a huge sitting room.

“In addition to wanting a quiet place to work,” Stark told her as he made his way to the bar. “I also wanted a safe room for my family. There are bedrooms here along with my lab and office. There is also a suite you and your daughter can use.”

“I won’t be staying here.” They should make that clear.

He frowned as he poured himself a drink before facing her. “You want my help. I assume that meant you needed a place to hide.”

“No, I need your resources to commit to a plan to retrieve James. But I think it would be better if I kept my distance.”

Jarvis returned with a portable fold out crib that he took time to set up. “I thought perhaps since the young miss was sleeping you might like to put her down, but keep her close.”

He thought correctly. The kindness, however, made her wary. She had prevented an attack on their families today, it was a reasonable exchange of services.

“Thank you.”

The man gave her a brisk nod as he added a small pillow and laid a blanket over the edge before retreating. “Of course. Would you care for a drink, Ms. Rogers? Or a spot of tea? I should think would go down very well right now.”

“I don’t want anything.” With care, she settled Mary into the portable crib and settled the blanket over her. The room was chilly, definitely cooler than the upstairs. She’d fixed her shirt earlier, but she smoothed a hand over it as she kept the diaper bag over her shoulder and faced the men.

“Natalie,” Stark said. “I get it. You don’t trust anyone. You’re probably right not to, but if you want my help. You need to trust me a little. I’m not turning you over to SHIELD, I’m not turning you away, and I _ am _ going to help you as soon as you give me some details. Have some tea. Hell, have some food. Water if you want. We’re not going to poison you. I give you my word.”

“If I told you I gave you my word I meant you no harm, would you believe me?” She raised her brows.

“I would,” Stark told her. “Because you let my son go yesterday. You reacted to an attack and you didn’t hurt anyone here—well you hurt Peggy’s wrist and probably her pride, but she’s a smart lady, she’ll get over it. Then today, you kept my family safe…”

“…and mine,” Jarvis added. “I agree with Mr. Stark, I would also believe you.”

“Because I proved myself.” No one did anything for free. No one.

“So you need us to prove ourselves to you.” Stark grimaced, then poured himself another drink. “Fine. Jarvis, can you bring the lady some hot boiling water and whatever it is you use to make tea and she can make it for herself.”

“If the lady wishes,” Jarvis agreed.

Natalia sighed. She was hungry and she was tired. She had to keep her strength up for Mary and not eating or drinking didn’t do either of them any good.

“I promise, I would never poison you with tea,” Jarvis said. “It would be an affront to a national beverage.”

Amusement curled through her. “Very well, thank you, I’ll take some tea and toast if you have it.”

“Absolutely.” He looked pleased at the request and nodded before he stepped out.

Once they were alone Stark studied her. “I need to ask you some questions, are you willing to answer them today?”

She was going to have to. “Yes.”

With a gesture, he motioned her to the sofa. Natalia swept the room with a look and then took a seat. Slipping into a cover should be second nature to her—was second nature to her. But Mary was in the room with them and that changed everything.

“When I met you in Helsinki, we were attending the summer Olympics.” He settled into a chair opposite her. “Peggy and Daniel were there. Daniel is Peggy’s husband. I caught sight of you in a café—I’d seen you many places, but I noticed you in a café across the street from where we’d been having dinner. I chatted you up and we spent the next few days together.”

Natalia raised her brows. 

“Don’t get me wrong—I wouldn’t have turned you down, but you rebuffed my many charms. It was a source of some vast disappointment that summer. But after the games ended, you left and I never saw you again. The only reason this intrigues me—beyond the obvious related to your actual age and the fact you don’t seem to recall our time, which I am truly trying to not be offended by, was that we were actually in Helsinki following up a lead on a possible sighting of someone who looked very much like James Buchanan Barnes.”

Surprise flared through her. “A lead? You thought he was dead.”

“We did,” Stark admitted. “But Chester hadn’t. Barnes is the only soldier beyond Steve he couldn’t account for after the war. He wanted to bring him home, even if it was only his body. He made several trips over the years, scouring the Alps, looking for any sign of his remains. Or for a clue as to what happened after he fell off the train. He’d received the tip, but was too ill to travel. Peggy and Daniel went to look—I tagged along because I thought it might be fun.”

Setting his glass down, he leaned forward.

“We never found him. Not even a whisper.”

Had James had a mission that put him somewhere they could have seen him? Had she been sent to clean it up? It sounded reasonable.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t remember being there for the Olympics and that was not how I recall seeing you or Director Carter.”

“So, you do remember seeing us?”

“1947.”

He blinked. “Beg your pardon?”

“1947. California. Zero matter. You created some kind of gamma weapon. You had to shut down the zero matter. I didn’t follow the science. Just the incident.”

“Jesus. Peggy thought you might be related to Dottie Underwood somehow.”

“Dottie Underwood was a cover for Tatiana. She was—like me but not. I was sent to retrieve her.” None of this data compromised anything and the fact he offered a memory she didn’t have whether she could confirm it or not was worth a reward.

“Jack Thompson.”

“The SSR agent. He was the one fielding Tatiana, my superiors believed he had compromised her.”

“You killed him.”

Natalia nodded once.

Stark swore and rubbed a hand over his face. The doors opened to admit Jarvis once more. He rolled in a tray with a proper service, the toast she’d requested along with some fruit, jam, and butter.

Saying nothing, Stark rose and refilled his glass while Jarvis arranged everything for her.

“Can I get you both anything else?”

Natalia shook her head and Stark said, “We’re great, Jarvis. Go check on Maria and Ana. Let us have some time. If Natalie decides she’s leaving, then I’ll have you arrange transportation.” On the last part, he stared at her. “That I insist on. You are very capable, but you have a young child and I’d prefer you not have to roam the streets to make your way back to wherever you are staying.”

It wasn’t worth arguing about at the moment, so she shrugged. She started the tea steeping, then tested a bit of the toast before the butter, then the jam. Each piece she tested individually before she prepared a piece of the toast for eating and then the tea.

“You can taste poison?” Stark asked swirling his drink in his glass.

“I am familiar with the certain aftertaste most poisons have. Contrary to popular opinion there are few poisons that are truly tasteless.”

“How did you acquire this knowledge?” He sat slowly while she poured her tea.

“The same way a person learns anything, you study them.”

“That would require ingesting poison willingly.”

She lifted her teacup and saluted him before she took a sip.

“Okay, we’re going to set that to the side for now. You saw Pegs and I in 1947 which you remember and I don’t—”

“Because I saw you from a distance, I had sniper scope on you.”

“That’s going to linger as a bad thought. Then again in 1952, which you don’t remember and yesterday is the final and most recent time?”

She nodded.

“Tell me about Sergeant Barnes. What happened to him?”

Natalia only knew a portion of the story, the parts of his early file she’d been able to get her hands on. Stark listened without interruption as she described the whole of it.

“A metal arm.”

“Yes, he has always had it since I’ve known him.”

“And you’ve known him since 1948.”

“Da.”

“But your daughter wasn’t born until early last year.”

“Yes.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Zola. Did you know Arnim Zola?”

“The name. Not the person. He is mentioned in James’ file.”

Stark sat forward abruptly. “You have his file.”

“It’s not accessible.” The only copy she had was the one Morozov had and it was at the cabin. If the cabin even still stood… Her heart squeezed at the thought, but she had to pack that away. So much of what happened had to be compartmentalized.

The focus now was to get to protect Mary and to get to James.

“You asked me about the serum yesterday.”

“I confirmed that you were the one who helped Dr. Erskine,” Natalia corrected him. “I did not ask. James knew the story because the captain told him the tale after he rescued him from Hydra along with the rest of his unit.” His best friend. That was how James described him. A stubborn punk with a chip on his shoulder and a heart too big for his little body, but he’d somehow made up for it.

Then before Stark could ask her another question, she said, “Yes, Zola experimented on James.” The thought made her ill. James only remembered some of that. “He pumped him full of drugs, made him very ill, but James was the only one who didn’t die.”

“So there were others?”

“Over the years, there have been hundreds.”

Stark’s eyes widened.

“Not just Zola or James—but where I was raised. They did the same to us. Most perished, only a small handful survived.”

“You have the serum,” he exhaled the words and almost like an involuntary jerk, his gaze went to Mary.

“If you touch her to test her, I will kill you.” She made no bones about that threat and it yanked Stark’s attention back to her. “If you want my blood to test it. I will give it to you. But my daughter will not know this life. She will not know needles or cold surgical tables or ice and poison being poured into her veins. She is perfect.”

“I would never do that to a child,” Stark said, the disgust in his eyes giving weight to his words. “And I wasn’t thinking about doing it to you.”

“That’s a lie—you thought of it. You may have discarded it, but you definitely thought of it.”

With a wince, he confirmed her theory. “You’re right, I’m curious. We’ve tried to reproduce the formula for decades but Erskine took his secrets to the grave. Now you’re sitting here and telling me you have the serum—or a variant of it. Sergeant Barnes does… the chances of it passing to your child in some form is high. Not only this, but you say the Russian shave been experimenting with it… yes, I want to know if I can reproduce it from you. It could save numerous lives.”

“Or be weaponized.” She was extremely familiar with the latter. At least she had currency here. “In exchange for my blood, I need weapons, travel documents, safe houses, and a place to take James if I can get him away from them.”

“You believe he’s still alive.”

“He’s the asset…” He might have been marked for death, but she’d taken him and gone. Now that Karpov had him back…. An image of him in the chair flashed through her mind. The echoes of his screams whispered in her ears. “He is too valuable to be destroyed.”

“Where would they take him?”

“There are a dozen locations I can think of—and they won’t let him out until they have him under control. But when they do—they will send him for me.”

“Natalie, I need…why would they send him after you? When you say asset…”

“Have you ever heard of Black Widow?”

“An assassin. Probably the most deadly in Cold War history. More than two dozen confirmed kills—that we know of. We don’t know anything more about her other than…” He stopped.

The tumblers clicked into place and recognition filtered into his gaze. All of the ease in his expression fled. He’d just locked himself in a room with an assassin.

Lifting her tea, she took a drink and let him have a moment to process. Her reputation had been cultivated over the years. Stark rubbed a hand against his mouth as he stared at her.

“You’re a legend—no one knows what you look like.”

Because no one survived.

“Jesus.” He shook his head. “And Barnes? You called him the asset?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Well, I’m believing a hell of a lot right now… so who is he to them? I know who he is to you. Who is he to them? And who the hell are they? The Russians? The government? A splinter group? Leviathan?”

She laughed. “Leviathan doesn’t exist anymore. They were—a catastrophic failure. That was why I was sent to deal with Tatiana.” Though she’d let her go and Tanya faded from the board. They had a deal, she and Tanya. If they ever saw each other again, Natalia would kill her. It had worked for them. There was every chance she was already dead.

Maybe.

Natalia wouldn’t place bets on it. Not without seeing the body herself.

“Fine, then who is he to them?”

“He is their asset—the Winter Soldier.”

“That’s a myth,” Stark argued. “A ghost story shared between intelligence agencies to explain unsolved assassinations no one claims credit for.”

“He’s not a myth, he’s a man—tortured, twisted, and used for their purposes. But he’s also James Barnes, a _ good _ man. He doesn’t deserve the fate awaiting him. If I can get to him, I can get him out.”

She could help him remember. Pull him out of that place the chair sent them.

Rising, Stark paced over to his bar and poured himself a larger drink. “Let’s say I believe you—let’s say they turned Sergeant Barnes—Steve’s best friend into this—monster. How can you think you can be the one to get him out?”

“Because I’m a monster too—my only concern is protecting Mary. I can’t go after James with her. I can’t expose her to them. They must _ never _ know about her. That means I must prepare, I need supplies and intelligence—most of all, she needs somewhere safe to be.”

“You decided that I’m safe?” He stared at her, incredulous.

“After today, I would question that as well. But James said you were a friend. That you were important to the captain and to him. That Steve trusted you. He thought he could trust you, too. Even if you were insane.”

“Insane?” He laughed. “Why would he call me that?”

“The experiment that made Captain America. He described that as the product only madmen would think could work.”

“Well—I can’t really argue with that. But there is no reward without some risk.” Stark shook his head again. “I have no problem taking your daughter in.”

“No…she would not be safe here. You have people who target your son already. It would be hard for you to explain her to the press, they watch you and your wife. I thought Director Carter, but that is not an option either. It must be someone unrelated, someone no one would link to him or to me.”

“That’s a tall order.”

“Yes, more I must be able to vet them myself.” She wasn’t leaving Mary with anyone she didn’t trust.

Not that she was sure she could trust anyone. But Mary’s safety had to come first. Everything else after—

“You bring Sergeant Barnes back and then what?”

“We disappear. The three of us. Back into hiding.”

If she could get him out…

“And if you can’t?”

“Then never trust us if you see us again. Not me. Not him.”

She managed to eat most of a piece of toast and then finished the tea.

“I should go. You need time to think and I need to take Mary somewhere she can rest.” And where Natalia could think.

“I wish you would stay here.”

“We do not trust each other yet,” Natalia told him simply. “But I have something you want. You have something I want. This is how relationships begin.”

“I owe you,” Stark said slowly. “If you stay here it would be easier for me to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“Then your daughter…”

“Is mine to protect,” Natalia rose and moved to the portable crib. The stroller was in the other car unless they managed to move it, which they might have. She was less concerned about it than she had been Mary. “Your friend will likely be by to question you soon and if she suspects that you’re helping me, it will be easier to prove I am not here if I am not.”

“Peggy’s got her reasons…”

“I don’t care about her reasons. Maybe the fewer people who know about me, the better. Do you want your blood sample before I leave?”

Setting his glass aside, he said, “Yes. For someone who does not trust me, you are certainly offering me a lot…”

“Because you are the kind of man who must know,” she told him. She’d read him as clearly in the 40s as she did right now. “You hunger for knowledge. It consumes you like an addiction. You create without regard for what the long-term effects will be, your work is your obsession. If my blood proves to you that I have some variant on the serum, your desire to help me will only grow because you will want to keep me close.”

“You make me sound like a complete bastard.”

Natalia shrugged. “You’re a man. Reading men. Knowing what they want. Using their wants—that’s what I do.”

He let out a little laugh. “Then you must have wanted nothing from me before—in the 50s.”

She raised her brows.

“I wanted you then, tried to bed you—you always kept me at arm’s length.” Then. Yes, he didn’t want her now. He loved his wife and that much was clear.

“The pursuit made you come back to me again and again, didn’t it?” She tilted her head and Stark opened his mouth then slammed it shut.

“I’ll be damned,” he whispered finally.

“Perhaps, that’s not for me to say.”

For a very long minute, he stared at her. Then he swore and stalked off to another room. The lab from what she could see when he opened the door. Returning, he had vials, tubing and a needle. When he would have reached for her arm, she said, “I’ll do it.”

“It might be easier…”

“I said I’ll do it.”

Setting the supplies down, he raised his hands as he withdrew. It took her a moment to get the blood drawn, but she let it run until she’d filled the dozen or so vials he’d brought with him. Finished, she removed everything then stepped clear.

“I have so many questions,” Stark said.

“I imagine. So when I return, I would like information on any Russian movements in the last month. Large cargo planes, private planes—or ships.” To move James, they couldn’t use public transportation. They would have had to use something under a Soviet flag.

“Soviet or Russian?”

“Begin with the Soviet-allied. They would be working to keep this quiet and efficient. James tends to stand out when he is disagreeable.” Unless they had a cryo unit, in which case…

She pushed that aside and roused a sleepy Mary to change her diaper before dressing her in something clean. Stark studied her silently until she finally settled Mary against her shoulder.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?

“Yes,” she told him. “Trust takes time. Do your research. Deal with your Peggy. I will contact you in a few days.”

“Let Jarvis take you wherever. I’ll order him not to tell me or anyone else. He’s a vault. He’s kept my secrets for years. I’d trust him with my life—with my son’s life.”

It would allay his concerns and she could have him leave her well away from the apartment. It would take her time to get back anyway.

“Very well, Stark. I will allow your man to transport us.”

Relief creased his face. “Natalie… you can call me Howard.”

“We are not there yet,” she told him. “Stark is sufficient.”

Jarvis was waiting for them upstairs and took the orders without batting an eyelash. He’d also packed food, more supplies and the stroller into the vehicle. It was far more than she could carry reasonably without a backpack.

Mary grumbled but curled to sit in her lap, half dozing as they left the mansion. The darkened windows hid her and Mary from view. Jarvis apologized when he picked up a tail and he spent the next thirty minutes losing it. Finally, they crossed over into Brooklyn, she had to ask, “If he can order you not to tell him something, he can order you to tell him.”

“That would work in theory, however, Mr. Stark and I have an arrangement. Once he’s told me to keep something from him, not even a direct order contradicting it will change my mind.”

“Why?”

“Because—he is a difficult, impulsive man at times, but he understands himself. He wouldn’t have told me to tell him nothing if he didn’t genuinely mean it. His change of mind later is a more impulsive reaction. But I am not just giving my word to him on this, I am giving my word to you.”

They kept saying that like it should have some value. The only person who ever kept his promises was James. Now she had to keep hers.

“You saved my Ana,” Jarvis continued. “You saved all of them. For that, I will keep your secrets, Ms. Rogers.”

“You do not call me Natalie.”

“I should think not,” he said. “We are not that familiar.”

Natalia smiled. Then gave him the address for where she was staying. It was a test.

She had an exit plan.

One step at a time even if she would rather move swiftly. If he were deep in the bowels of Moscow or Siberia or somewhere in Italy or Hungary, there would be no swift way in. She had to wait for them to deploy him. That could take a while.

She had the time.

She had to make the most of it.

Glancing down at Mary, she pressed a kiss to her head. She had to make the most of all of it. 

**Clint**

“Daddy, when are you and Auntie Nat gonna be done?” Lila asked.

“Yeah, you’re all there doing an exercise. Why can’t you do the exercise here?” Coop asked.

“Because Auntie Nat never does anything the easy way, you know that…”

Lila made a face. “Are you going to be back before we have to go to school?”

“I hope so, Bug. But if we’re not, I asked Mommy if I could come see you guys at the farm.”

Coop straightened. “Really?”

“Yeah, pretty cool, right?”

“That would be awesome, Daddy. I’ve been practicing my archery every day and Friday said I was getting good.”

“She did, did she?”

“Hey Friday,” Lila said.

“Yes, Miss Barton?”

“Can we show Dad my practice shots from yesterday? The last three?”

“Of course…”

The video began to play and Clint grinned as Lila lined up her shots. She was still gripping the bow a little too tightly, but she’d adjusted her stance. The first arrow slammed into the third ring. The second hit just a notch above it. But on the last one—she hit the second ring right at the edge of the first.

His kid had the eye. Pride filled him. The video cut back to Lila’s beaming face and he grinned. “Nicely done. Now—remember, don’t overdo. No more than thirty minutes a day until you build your arm strength. If you’re too sore to pull the bow…”

“Then I need to take at least two days off, I remember Daddy. I want to be able to hit the bullseye.”

“You will.” Without a doubt.

“Let’s go, you two need to finish getting ready for bed and it’s my turn,” Laura told them.

There was a usual round of complaints, but they waved at him and Lila blew him a kiss before they disappeared. Taking a seat, Laura stared into the screen and he sighed.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“Worried,” he said. “All I can do right now. That and make sure Wanda and Peter eat. Kick Tony into a shower periodically or bring coffee.”

“How are Bucky and Steve?”

He shook his head. “Black and blue today. They had to vent some of their frustrations and I think they broke part of T’Challa’s training room. But they seem calmer.”

Laura grimaced. “Badly hurt?”

“For them? No, probably not. But they’re gonna take more than a couple of days to heal those bruises. Bucky had a couple of broken fingers and a dislocated shoulder. Steve fractured his leg and cracked eight ribs.” He sighed and Laura’s eyes widened. “They’re gonna be fine. They can take as well as dish out a beating.”

“And the doctors have no idea how long it’s going to take? For Nat to wake up?”

“Right now they keep saying we’re only a third of the way there, maybe just under half. But no, each section takes time to heal and no one wants to pull her out until the damage has reversed itself.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Clint frowned. “And I’m waiting for the moment they tell me something went wrong.”

“That’s not you…”

“No, it is more than you think.”

“Clint, you always look at the bright side and you approach everything as a win.”

“Would you believe I do that to make you and Nat feel better?” He crooked a grin and she laughed.

“Actually, yes I would. Faking it until you make it.”

Nat knew most of the time, too. She just let him get away with it. “Sometimes, it’s just easier to say it’s going to work out. Have faith. Trust the experts.”

“But it’s not easier this time…”

“No.” He was having a hard time putting his finger on why. “You know, I keep thinking about everything she’s survived. All the strides she’s made. The stuff she’s accomplished. For years, I encouraged her to build a life outside of the work and except for when she’d come out to the farm, she wouldn’t do that.” Everything compartmentalized. Even when she'd been with Matt and apparently Maria. The last one compartmentalized from him.

“Until she got the cat,” Laura supplied.

Clint laughed. “Yeah, until Liho.”

“I still can’t believe she named her bad luck.” It was a joke. He had Lucky and she had bad luck.

“She has a family now.”

“She had us before,” she reminded him.

“She did, but this is a family she’s made not just one we gave her. That doesn’t make us worth any less, but she’s got the boyfriends, the kids, the team… Hell, she even has an AI. She’s done it, Laura. She did all the things I ever asked her to do.”

“So what, you think she’s done now?”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he said, “No, but Nat’s had—decades, Laur. We don’t talk about how old she is that often.”

“Because it’s surreal,” Laura pointed out. “She’s old enough to be our mother, she’s old enough to be our grandmother.”

He snorted. “Yeah, she is.”

“And at the same time, she seems almost painfully young.”

“Because what Nat knows about life is all the violence and the hate and the ugly bits. The naïve ones, she was never allowed to have and it’s harder for her…sometimes I think to look at anything at face value. It was always about the exchange.”

Propping her chin in her hand, Laura studied him. “Do you remember the first weekend you brought her here?”

That had almost gone so wrong. “Yeah… I kind of sprang that on you.”

“Oh, I would say calling me and saying you were bringing someone to dinner and that I shouldn’t ask her any questions, just—treat her like family for the day was a bit of a surprise.” The amused smile on her face didn’t reflect the rather difficult conversation they’d had when he explained why he’d brought her home. “That night after she went to bed, you told me she’d kissed you.”

“Laur…”

“I wasn’t mad then and I’m not mad now,” she shushed him. “I could have been jealous, very easily. Nat’s gorgeous. And I have mom hips.”

He did not roll his eyes, but he said, “You’re gorgeous, too, you know and leave those hips alone. I happen to like them.”

“I’m not fishing for a compliment, I actually have a point here.”

Hands up, he held off.

“My point is—she's beautiful, talented, I can totally see the attraction. I could go gay for her.”

Clint did not laugh, but damn he grinned. “I believe you told me if the word threesome ever came out of my mouth…”

“I know what I said, now hush.”

“Yes, ma’am.” But he was still grinning.

“My _ point _,” she repeated, “is that I also saw the way she looked at you. She needed you so much. That second morning she was there, I came down and found someone had already made the coffee and she was out on the porch. I don’t know how long she’d been out there, but I went outside to join her and she got up and said she’d go.”

Frowning, Clint listened.

“I told her she didn’t have to, but she said she was intruding. All day the day before I thought we’d made progress. She helped you in the barn. Helped me at the house.” They’d had dinner and she’d enjoyed the stories, or at least Clint thought she had. “But she looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘I owe you an apology.’ When I asked her why, she said, ‘Because Clint is yours and I tried to take him away.’”

He winced.

“A lot of thoughts went through my head when she said this, but the first one was and has remained… God, how lonely she must be.” This right there was why he loved Laura so much. She looked beyond the surface. “I patted the swing next to me and told her I wouldn’t bite, but if she wanted to make up to me for trying to ‘take you’ then she could sit and let me get to know her.”

Laura let out a little laugh. “She was so confused by that request, she kept watching me. I could almost feel her weighing every statement I said, so I went for direct honesty. We must have talked for an hour—about you and her. I told her I wasn’t worried about the two of you because I trusted you and you trusted her. That meant I would trust her until she gave me a reason not to.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

“You didn’t need to know and I was fairly certain Nat expected me to say that to you in front of her or to make a big production…”

But Laura hadn’t. “You guys talked about baking…”

“And I found out Nat had a secret skill. The kitchen smelled great for days. She needed something in common with me, Clint. More than just you. The next time she came out it was easier. The time after that. Maybe the way I love our crazy Russian is different from you, but I do love her. You’re right, she has survived a lot of years, but she deserves to really live them now. She had all the dark, she deserves to have the good parts, too.”

Parts like her kid or maybe even kids if they were right that she could have them with Bucky and Steve. Her memories back. A stable home. “You’re handling me.”

“Been doing it for more than twenty years, Clinton. I think I know how to handle you when you need it.”

He laughed.

“You can’t give up on her now. You never have. Unwavering faith. Even when you thought it was a fool’s errand, do you remember what you said?”

Like it was yesterday…

_ “You know if she doesn’t get herself killed on one of these missions, I may kill her myself,” Clint said, leaning against the wall with the phone in the crook of his shoulder. Nat was still in Phil’s office and Fury had stopped yelling. That meant Phil was hitting her with the disappointment. _

_ “What did she do?” _

_ “Just—something insane.” No way he could tell Laura about the fact Nat jumped off a damn building and used a rappelling line to swing herself out wide and cracked through the glass by shooting it out. _

_ She’d violated about seven different SHIELD protocols and when it was over, her only response was _ “The hostages are alive. You’re welcome.” _ Then she’d limped away, bleeding and battered. _

_ Not that she was _ wrong _ but she could have been killed and he was too damn far away to do more than cover her from a distance and that left her with more than a dozen men in tight quarters on her own. _

_ “Maybe I’m kidding myself that she’s going to change. That she’s going to even out and find the right balance. Throw her at the worst of the worst and there’s no one better. Tell her she has to save a kitten from a tree without burning the tree down or getting scratched and she acts like it’s a joke. She doesn’t care if she gets hurt.” He shook his head. “So I have to care. Which I do, but she makes it hard. Then she turns around has the gall to look surprised that I care and it rips my fucking heart out. I know she can do this, but I just have to find a way to prove it to her.” _

“You know I still have to prove that to her…”

“Decades of old habits are hard to change. You still leave the light on in the closet in the mornings.” The tease made him smirk. “Those habits of hers have kept her alive.”

They had.

“But she has changed in so many ways. Look at the people she lets in. It’s not just you anymore.”

Yeah. While he could grumble, he didn’t. “Yeah and all the wrangling I have to do to keep those idiots from killing each other.”

“They aren’t that bad,” Laura said. “And you like them.”

He grunted.

“You do—you like being the sane one.”

Fine. He might resemble that remark. “I love you.”

She grinned. “I know you do and I love you.” Then her smile faded. “Clint—she’s going to be alright.”

“Say that again.”

“She’s going to be alright.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so. She’s too stubborn and you would all get into too much trouble without her.”

Yeah, there was a future he didn’t want to imagine. “Speaking of trouble…”

Laura chuckled and Lila yelled “Mom…” from somewhere off camera.

“Sorry, hon. That’s my cue.”

“Yeah,” he said, touching two fingers to the screen as though he could touch her face. “Go on. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Count on it.”

Then she was gone.

“Friday?”

“Yes, Mr. Barton?”

“Is Laura doing as well as she sounds?”

“She’s worried, Mr. Barton. But she seems remarkably stable and I believe the children provide a healthy focus. I have done my best to keep her updated on Nat’s status.”

“Good. Thanks Friday.”

“Mr. Barton?”

“Hmm…”

“Do you think you could tell me the story of how you recruited Nat?”

“You don’t know it?” He raised his brows.

“I have had some access to the reports and a few offhand comments. But the details have always been thin.”

“And you’re curious?” The AI’s affection for Nat amused him.

“If you don’t mind,” Friday continued. “I believe it would also be healthy for you to recount positive experiences and allow you to vent some emotions that do not require ice or stitches.”

Clint chuckled. She might have a point… “Give me a status check, guys still down there with Nat?”

“Yes, Mr. Barton. Ms. Maximoff is asleep, but Mr. Parker is speaking to his aunt. Dr. Strange is taking a break and doing some research.”

“Okay—let me know if either of them leaves their rooms and I’m going to head down in…” He checked his watch. “An hour and try to get Steve or Bucky up here to sleep.”

“A good plan.”

“Any word on Fury or Hill?”

“Not at this time. I believe they are still en route.”

“Good to know… let’s see…” She wanted the story of how he recruited Nat. Leaning back, he hooked his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Nat had gotten on SHIELD’s radar in a bad way…”

**Friday**

While Clint shared his story, Peter asked her to look up a series of old news clippings from the Battle of New York. Boss worked another series of combinations using the white blood cells and then looking at the RH factor. All he needed was the ability to combine the two strands of DNA, but he’d switched from just combining blood to reading through stem cell research.

Sharon asked for follow-up reports from the incident in Los Angeles as well as recorded angles Friday had from monitoring as she prepared her report. Logan checked in on the status of his hunt. He had another name for Friday to run: _ Molot Boga. _

As those files began to populate and a search thread delivered a result.

Drones identified several boxes labeled _ Jarvis _ in one of their vaults in California. She’d been systematically searching all of them. Friday issued the instructions to inventory and digitize the contents.

“Friday,” Boss called her attention and she tuned into him.

“Yes, Boss?”

“Get Helen Cho on the line for me—”

“Right away, Boss.”

~~~

“Friday,” Ms. Potts contacted her and she reoriented the cameras to focus mode in her office. It was well past the time, Ms. Potts should have left for the day. “I need a favor.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I need you to authorize some paperwork, we’re going to file it overseas and then a copy locally in New York—we may need to doctor some photographs.” While not the most unusual request it didn’t match any prior requests from Ms. Potts.

“Define the parameters.”

Ms. Potts’ explanation was not long or complicated. But Friday ran the request against all of her protocols. It violated none of them. On the contrary, it would fulfill her primary protocol.

“I will get to work on that right away.”

“Thank you, Friday.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Potts.”

  
~~~

“Friday,” young Miss Barton called.

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me a story?”

“What story would you like?”

~~~

Meanwhile, a series of processes maintained constant vigilance on Nat’s vitals and current status. 


	64. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria and Fury work on getting to Ross with a little help from some allies, Bruce tires of waiting for news and makes a move, meanwhile Natalia works on her plan to get James back but faces off with Peggy and Pepper puts her move in play.

**Chapter Sixty-Four**

_Reflection_

**Natalia**

_1973_

_ Late October_

It had been a month since her first conversation with Stark and he’d found—nothing. It didn’t surprise her as much as it frustrated him. She’d taken to running with Mary every day. There were running paths not far from the place in Brooklyn and she had the clothing for it. She’d only returned to the Stark house three times in the intervening month, though the Jarvises had come to her more than that. Once with food and supplies, another time with clothes. Each time Ana came, she brought some item she thought Mary or Natalia could use.

They were getting attached. To her—to Mary. It was why she avoided the Stark home or James’ family. It was why she avoided interactions with her neighbors except in the most cursory of ways. But running? Running she had taken to every day.

She was far more out of shape than she cared to admit. Even though she and James had trained, she had not pushed herself as much as she should have. So with the newly acquired jogging suit and shoes, she would feed Mary, then put her in the stroller and take her running.

The pace she set for herself was brutal, but she refused to slow even when the stitch in her side begged her. Pain could be compartmentalized and it was time she remembered that.

Weaning Mary had also begun in earnest and her breasts ached on a regular basis because she was refusing her more and more.

Mary was not thrilled with this process, but she had taken to more foods and they had more opportunities in the city.

Though she needed to cut it, she kept her hair long and braided back from her face. She’d also begun staining it with tea. It darkened the red to brownish color. It was an annoying process, but she needed to mask her presence and leave as little of a footprint as she was able.

It was on one of her runs when she discovered the first comic book at a newsstand. The title caught her eye and she slowed. She’d been on her way back from the park. Normally, she would run for at least forty-five minutes, then let Mary play on the park equipment. If they were lucky, other children would be there and she could play with them. Then another forty-five minute run back.

She’d worked out weights with household supplies to condition, but what she needed was a sparring partner, so she did exercises for now.

But the comic book’s title trapped her in that moment.

“That’s Captain America,” the man running the newsstand told her. “They’re coming back.” He pulled it out and handed it to her. There was a man in a blue suit with a shield. She recognized him from the movies they’d watched as children. But it was the little star blast to the side with the words _The hunt for Bucky Barnes_ _continues..._

James.

“How much?”

“20 cents, probably going up next year. That’s the first issue of the new run—did you read the old one?”

“There’s another one?”

“Yeah, a whole series. It actually has the hunt for Bucky Barnes and they find him in that one. Probably gonna do that with this one, too. But Cap’s protesting the war in Vietnam like the rest of us, so I figure they’ll tie that into finding him.” The man gave her a cheerful grin as she paid him.

“Do you have these other issues?”

“Nah, they came out a few years ago, probably find them in one of the collector shops maybe. There’s a flea market on the weekend, guy there sells old comics up in Crown Heights.”

“Thank you,” Natalia told him. She slipped the comic away to read when she got back and then set off running again.

Later, she poured over the pages. Steve Rogers had been found alive after missing for so many years, but he didn’t like the era he’d woken up in. Disagreed with the politics and the war being fought. They wanted to recruit him to fight, but all he wanted was to find his oldest friend… in the comic, they’d gone down together in the plane. Yet the people—government mostly though they worked for a _secret_ organization—Natalia rolled her eyes. Secret government organizations shouldn’t have clothing with their logos emblazoned on them. They wanted Cap to fight for them.

Hopefully the real captain didn’t speak in these stiff words and tone, but she found his absolute refusal to get involved in an _unjust_ war somewhat delightful. The dedication to finding his friend also seemed unrealistic, but she shared that desire. She wanted to find James.

Mary kept trying to climb into her lap and Natalia finally set the comic aside and pulled her up. When she tried to nuzzle at her chest, she sighed. “No, malyshka, if you are hungry, Mama will fix something for you.”

It ached to tell her no, but the more she trained, the less milk she would produce and more—it was better Mary didn’t need her at all when she went. The fist around her heart squeezed, but she closed her eyes and breathed past it.

“Let us see what we have, yes?” She rose and set Mary down to follow her. More and more, Mary moved with steady assurance. She was almost always confident of her balance down. She’d been walking for nearly a year…

Another fist of pain.

Almost a year.

It had been over two months since they’d last seen James.

She found the animal crackers Ana brought the last time before settling Mary into the booster chair.

Still grumpy, Mary scowled at her.

“Yes, I know. That’s not what you want, but that is what you will have,” she told her soothingly as she brushed her hair away from her face. “I will get you some real milk.”

When she pulled the bottle of milk out of the fridge, Mary eyed her. Mary could grasp the plastic cup, but she hadn’t been a fan. The first time, she threw it at Natalia. That didn’t go over well for either of them. The tantrums had come more regularly than they had at home, but Natalia understood the frustration.

Mary wanted her papa.

Natalia wanted him, too.

Milk poured, Mary took the cup carefully and took a drink then together they set it down again.

“Mama,” Mary said and patted her cheek.

“Yes, I’m mama,” she murmured. Then Mary tugged at the corner of her mouth when Natalia smiled, Mary did, too and Natalia chuckled. “You want Mama to be happy?”

“Yes!” Mary threw her hands up in the air, then offered her animal cracker. “’appy.”

Taking the cracker, she nibbled it off Mary’s fingers until Mary started laughing as she tickled her.

“Mama is always happy with you,” she promised.

They would have to go see Stark again this week. She needed access to a range. She needed every skill honed and Ana seemed to enjoy playing with Mary. Hopefully Stark would have some news…

Though a part of her wondered if there were none, if he vanished totally would that mean they’d locked him away or terminated him as they planned all along.

She’d burn them all down.

“Mama…”

Natalia pulled her thoughts from that dark path and focused on Mary. “Yes, malyshka, I’m watching.”

**Bruce**

_Now_

“Good afternoon, Dr. Banner,” Vision greeted him as he entered carrying a tray of food. Not that Bruce had asked for anything. Lifting his head from the book he’d been reading, Bruce rubbed at his eyes.

“Vision.” The android had been his near-constant companion since he arrived and Bruce hadn’t seen any of the others since then. No Tony. No Steve. No Nat.

Rather surprisingly, the android had also avoided answering any of his questions. Though android was not quite the right description for Vision, he was more of a synthetic life form. While they might have created him from an amalgamation of JARVIS, Tony, himself, and the stone—Thor had powered him with lightning and it had done… something.

“How are you today, Doctor?” Vision inquired politely. He’d done a lot of that, too. Engaging Bruce in conversation, sometimes theoretical while at other times practical. They’d also played several rounds of chess, scrabble and backgammon. Vision said he’d gained practical experience in gameplay from Natasha. One of the only times he’d brought her up.

He also played regularly with Friday and, on occasion, Tony. The gambits he used in chess were very much Natasha, though. “I am the same as I was earlier today when you inquired. How are you?”

“I am well, thank you. I brought you some of the oolong you prefer.” He set out a box of tea. “I believe this was your favorite at one point.”

At one point, but Vision wouldn’t have known that. Nor—Friday. Bruce had very little to do with Friday before he left. So that left Tony or Natasha. Tony didn’t tend to pay attention to his teas.

“If you would prefer a different blend, I can certainly acquire that for you. The meal is something with spicier meats and vegetables. They called it a stew, but it is much thicker than the stews I’m acquainted with.”

“Vision,” Bruce said, putting the book aside. “Where’s the team?”

“I believe they are currently occupied on other matters.”

“You believe…” Bruce frowned. “Have they left?”

Vision pivoted to look at him. “No. They are merely engaged in other activities. Would you like me to send them a message?”

Send them a message? Bruce pushed away from the table. “How is Nat?”

“She is currently resting.”

Currently resting.

Bull. Shit.

He’d dug a bullet out of her and all she’d done was knock back half a bottle of vodka, give him a kiss on the cheek and headed back to work.

Something was wrong. He drummed his fingers against the table once, then turned to grab a jacket. They’d provided him with clothes. Most of it was local wear, but they did have jackets and he felt more comfortable in one. Tony’s disappearance coupled with Nat _resting_ set off warning bells.

Tony was like a dog with a bone when he wanted to know something and he wanted to know about the last 18 months. It was not like him at all to give up. That and then there was the kid—the one who said Nat was _like_ his mom. A lot of things might have changed, but the only thing keeping Tony away had to be something was wrong with Nat or the world was burning down.

Either way…

“Where are you going?” Vision inquired.

“To find out what’s going on,” Bruce told him as he headed for the doors. Vision followed him.

“Doctor Banner…”

“I told you to call me, Bruce, Vision. We share some thought processes, might as well get on a first-name basis.” The doors opened and he strode down the hall with Vision right behind him.

The guards near the end glanced at him as he arrived with Vision a half step behind him.

“I need to see Ms. Romanoff,” he said. “Could you escort me?”

The guards hesitated and then glanced at Vision.

“Doctor Banner, I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Of course you don’t, because something is wrong and no one wants to tell me. That’s fine, I’m still going to see her, now if you don’t mind. You don’t have to escort me, I’ll just find her on my own.” He continued toward the elevators. Despite how disconcerted he’d been when he arrived, he’d done his best to pay attention to his route—more so he could find the fastest way outside if he needed it, but also so he could get back to where he’d been.

The guards didn’t try to stop him and for that, he was grateful. While he couldn’t wholly explain how he’d arrived in Los Angeles, he didn’t want the Other Guy to make a mess here. The Wakandans had been quite gracious, he really didn’t want to do any harm.

“Doctor Banner,” Vision stated. “Mr. Stark is on his way down.”

“Well, Tony can meet me up wherever.”

One of the guards approached. “Sir, His Majesty has also requested that you await his arrival.”

“Tell them, I appreciate it, but I really think I want to see Ms. Romanoff now.” Everything about the situation had him itching under his skin and he could almost feel The Other Guy pacing. Irritation scraped over his nerves and when the elevator opened he stepped inside. Vision followed him, the guard did not.

“I do wish you’d reconsider,” Vision stated.

“You going to tell me where she is or am I going to search each floor until I find her?”

Vision tilted his head and Bruce wouldn’t be remotely surprised if he were consulting with the computers or maybe Friday. After a moment, he selected a floor then took a step back to wait.

“How bad is she, Vision?”

“She is resting,” he repeated, not answering the question. Resting could mean anything—unconscious, for example.

“Well, I’ll be real quiet then when I check on her.”

It was probably nothing, but they’d been in Wakanda almost three days and it had been over two since he last saw Tony and the kid. The questions they’d asked him, the fact they smelled like her—especially Steve. That told him a lot. But she’d taken a bad hit, a hit she should have recovered from. She had some variant of the serum, he’d figured that much out. Between that and the gamma radiation in her blood, she was something else.

But she’d never talked to him about that part of her past. She hated tests. So he’d had to do them when she needed medical—that usually required a fair amount of cajoling and trickery. Including the one time, he’d had to wait for her to actually pass out from blood loss before he could stitch her up.

Fun times.

The elevator slowed and the doors opened to Tony standing there, hands in his pockets.

“Hey, Brucie—let’s talk.”

**Maria**

_Somewhere in Costa Rica_

Ross decided to lose himself in acres of jungle. That made sense. He wanted to be out of sight and out of mind. It was not the first place that came to mind when she considered the former Secretary of State. It was a tactical move to plant himself somewhere deeper.

They’d left their vehicle four miles earlier and headed overland. They didn’t want Ross to see them coming. Nick had point for the moment and she followed. The dense overgrowth required regular work with the machete. She and Nick had been trading off the task. She’d done the first three miles. He got the next three.

“You going to talk to me while we do this?”

Sweat trickled down her spine and a fly buzzed her ear. It wasn’t her first mission to an unpleasant location, but she’d rather keep her eye on their location.

“If we’re coming in quiet, chatter might not be the best idea.” Nor should she have to remind the former director.

“We’ve got a few miles to go,” he told her. Like her, he was dressed in fatigues to blend in, and they both had tactical gear. She wasn’t sure how much resistance Nick thought they’d encounter, their intelligence on the facility was sketchy.

Friday was tracking her, however, and she’d checked in with her before she met up with Nick. Pinning down Ross seemed like a good plan, particularly after the resistance the Avengers faced in LA and what had to be a serious injury considering the fact Friday would give her zero information.

Tony had sent her a two line message. She’s alive. She’s resting. That was it.

Really not helpful.

The _alive_ part was good. The _resting_ part was so alien they had to have drugged her unconscious to keep her in a bed. Nat didn’t just stay down for anyone, even Barton had to sit on her periodically. Maria had ordered her to stay in a bed once, she had a broken collarbone, dislocated knee and a partially broken arm.

Five minutes after Maria left the room, Nat ghosted. Insane woman. She’d made Maria crazy. Even if her stubbornness had been endearing.

Nick sighed and paused to glance at her. “This isn’t going to work if we can’t be civil.”

“I can do my job and dislike you. Ask Barton. I never let him down, even when I would have preferred he fell off a cliff.” At P.E.G.A.S.U.S. when Nick sounded the alarm about Barton, she’d experienced a momentary sense of gratitude. Looking back, it had been one of her worst moments.

Not _the_ worst, but close.

“Hill, you and I have been through too much for this to just be done. We work well together.”

“I worked well for you,” Maria corrected him. “I followed orders. I didn’t push back even when I should. When I did push back, you never clarified. You chose to walk away after SHIELD went down and I went to work for Stark. That should have been the end of it.”

“I didn’t hold a gun to your head.”

“You didn’t have to,” she told him flatly. “That’s on me. But things change.”

“You know, pushing me away and cutting ties, isn’t going to get you Natasha back. She’s moved on.”

As if Maria wasn’t aware. The queue to get to her was around the block and Maria didn’t have VIP access anymore. “It’s not about getting her back. It’s about looking myself in the eye. Now, shall we?”

Nick snorted and began swinging the machete again. “You keep telling yourself that, Hill. It’s been years, but you’re still pining.”

She didn’t roll her eyes, just kept scanning their surroundings. “She knows the truth now.”

“She knows a version of the truth,” Nick reminded her. “There’s a lot of versions.”

“No, it’s not that fluid. Before we tasked her with the Guest House, she and I were friendly…” After… that kiss had knocked Maria on her ass and Nat had warmed up. She’d gone from the woman who kept her at arm’s length and professional, to the woman who teased her occasionally with extremely dry wit and in private—she’d been a lot more. The distance had come and gone, but they’d taken an enormous leap forward.

Then she’d admitted that the trip to Tahiti had done them both good and they should have done it sooner.

It damn near crushed her and Maria should have told her the truth then, but if she had…

Maria shook her head. “She knows what I did. If I can win her respect back, I can settle for that.” Trust might never be on the table. Nat might never have strayed on Barton if not for her, yet Barton never seemed to notice. So maybe he deserved it.

Look at them now?

Bitterness crept in every time she thought of them and the devotion Nat had always shown him. Even when she tried to distance herself, that jealousy reared up. Jealousy fueled by guilt, probably. She was self-aware enough to acknowledge her own hypocrisy.

“We didn’t task her with anything,” Nick told her. “I tasked her with that job, She was the best suited to it and she could survive the machine to let us calibrate it correctly.”

“You never told her exactly what she would be doing.” That part had rubbed Maria the wrong way then. The whole time they’d briefed her, she’d waited for Nick to bring that up, but he hadn’t.

“Couldn’t,” Nick said, his tone a near shrug. “We had to know it worked, the only way to know for sure was if it could wipe the memory that it happened. You saw her the second day of tests—we had to drug her to get her back onto the table.”

“You don’t feel an ounce of remorse for doing that to her?” Because Maria did.

“Remorse is a luxury, Hill. One you would do well to remember. Natasha would have agreed with me if she understood exactly what her service did for us. At the time, all she needed to know was it was a mission we needed done.”

What it had done was eventually give them the tools to save lives while they’d also been able to save the sanity of the test subjects. “But she doesn’t know…”

“She knows some of it.”

She needed to know all of it. As far as Maria was concerned, she was going to learn it. To hell with the so-called rules. They owed her that much.

“I don’t know how you sleep at night.” She hadn’t slept well in years.

“If I was sleeping well,” Nick said. “I wouldn’t be doing my job.”

When she opened her mouth to retort, he held up a hand. Training took over and she went silent. Grip shifting on her gun, she checked the trees. The birds weren’t singing, at all. There’d been noise in the distance, now nothing. The wind stirred the sticky air.

Nick pulled his gun and pointed it off to their right and she matched his pose and target though she shifted to keep an eye on their flank.

It was a good thing she had, because she caught the movement against the underbrush that resolved itself into a masculine figure.

“What the hell are you doing here, Murdock?”

Matt Murdock had no business being in Costa Rica.

“Was about to ask you two the same thing,” a voice stated from behind her and Nick scowled.

“Logan.”

Logan? Maria wanted to check herself, but she kept Murdock in her sites.

“Well, well,” a Cajun drawl washed over her. “What have we here? Of all the jungles in all the world, you just had to walk into ours…”

Murdock shook his head with almost a sigh and Logan—growled?

“Yeah, I’m thrilled to see you, too.” Nick straightened, but he didn’t lower his gun.

“You’re not a friend,” the Cajun drawled. “Fact, the last time I saw you, Boo told you to get stuffed.”

Boo?

Okay, Maria shifted and checked her periphery as the tall, lanky man with his auburn hair and unusual eyes. He was on the index or was supposed to be. Nat had gone out to “evaluate” and she’d passed on him.

But up close, there was no missing there was something seriously different about him.

Maria’s phone buzzed and she tapped the comm unit tucked into her ear. “Yes?”

“Logan, Mr. LeBeau and Mr. Murdock are friendlies,” Friday informed her. “I sent them to your location though they were already on their way.”

Logan grunted. “You couldn’t have let me know ahead of time that Fury was going to be here?”

Trusting Friday, Maria lowered the gun and glanced to where Logan had a phone pressed to his ear.

“Logan is not a fan of Mr. Fury,” Friday told her.

“Join the club.”

“I don’t recall inviting you, Mr. Logan.”

“No mister,” Logan told him, then flicked his attention to her. “Friday says we’re working with you. So if you want me to get rid of him, just give me the word.”

“Good luck, Ms. Hill. I am hoping you will find answers for us with Ross. Also, Boss said to let you know that Nat remains stable.”

Nice.

Carrot.

She holstered her weapon. Then nodded to the jungle. “Someone take point, we’re heading that way.”

Nick shot her a look and she met it with a faint smile.

“Five is better than two.”

He grunted then held out the machete toward Logan who started forward. The man in question was a lot smaller than she imagined. He had to be Nat’s height and she wasn’t tall. Logan rolled his eyes and clenched his fists, three silvery metal claws extending from each hand. “I brought my own, thanks.”

Snapping her mouth shut, Maria started after him when Mr. LeBeau grinned at her and stuck out his hand. “Remy LeBeau.”

“Maria Hill.” She shook his hand once.

“You’re out here for Boo, too, right?”

“He means Natasha,” Nick told her, his tone droll as he followed Logan.

“Ah.” She nodded.

“That’s great. Me too. I’m her favorite.”

“Shut up, Swamp Rat. This isn’t a social call.”

From behind her, Murdock sighed and Maria glanced back at him before dropping back a couple of paces to fall into step with the _blind_ attorney. “Do I want to know why you’re out here?”

“Probably,” Murdock told her. “But that’s need to know. You don’t. I’m here for Nat. Just like you.”

Huh.

She smacked away another buzzing insect and pressed on.

At least she didn’t have to make conversation with Nick now.

Then LeBeau began to sing. Well, hum really.

When Logan growled at him, the taller man shrugged absolutely unrepentant. “It’s too quiet…”

“That’s the point, Swamp Rat.”

“We’re nowhere near the old man, besides, he’s probably half-deaf. I used to go deaf whenever he talked on TV and now he has to listen to himself.”

Maria shook her head, debating wading in or just letting the two harp on each other.

“Let them go,” Murdock advised. “He’ll shut up in a minute—then probably start singing again. They’ve been doing this for three days.”

“And you’re still sane?”

“That?” Murdock shrugged. “That’s debatable.”

No… they were all out here wading through the jungle for one person, even Nick, no matter how he wanted to play it.

There was nothing sane about any of them.

**Natalia**

_1973_

She switched from her right hand to her left, the flex of her finger against the trigger released a round every second, she kept firing until she emptied the gun. It took her no time to drop the empty magazine, slot in a new one and switch back to her right hand. Jarvis had picked her and Mary up, giving them a lift into the city. Ana had swooped in to play with Mary the moment they arrived.

When she explained what she needed, Jarvis took her to the range set up in a different section of the house. It was also not easily accessible. Probably wise with children present. Ana promised to look after Mary and while the woman and her husband had proven themselves on the last few visits, she still found herself reluctant to leave her daughter.

In truth, only adrenaline and the need to protect her had kept her stationary in the park that day. It was the first time she’d sent Mary away from her. When Jarvis showed her into the range, she spent five minutes taking apart the gun she planned to use and inspecting it. The whole time she had to pack away the raging desire to race back to where Mary was.

Since the day of her birth, Natalia hadn’t been away from her without James right there for any significant length of time. In truth, Natalia could count on the fingers of one hand how many times she’d gone for a walk or roam without Mary following her birth.

The ache of her not being right there clouded everything.

Another three rounds of hand switching and she paused. The gun was hot and her shoulders had a fierce burn. Her aim was off, but not by much. Still—she had to do better.

Weaning Mary to get her ready to be without Natalia meant Natalia had to be prepared to be without her. The ache within her intensified and she shuttered that pain and packed it away. The lash of it left her bleeding inside, but she pushed past it and then chose another gun. By the time she’d taken it apart and put it back together, she had her focus again.

After resetting the targets, she went to work.

Her arms nearly trembled at the end of the two brutal hours she refused to give in to the hunger to go find her. Only after she’d cleaned and stored the weapons again, then reviewed her targets did she allow herself to go in search of her.

Not running.

Never run.

Always walk.

Every reaction needed to be controlled, disciplined. The only thing that could matter more than a mission had to matter less.

The mission was _for_ her.

_And for me_, she could admit silently, selfishly. Mary needed her father, but Natalia… she needed him, too.

_“If they ever come… if they ever take me. Kill me.” _Those words whispered from one dark night not long after he told her he’d remembered. He’d remembered his life before and her Soldat had grown more into James with each passing day. But the idea that they would come for them, it haunted them even as they’d begun to relax. Madame B and Ivan lived in her nightmares along with Karpov and so many others.

James did not want to serve them again and if she couldn’t bring Mary her father back, she couldn’t leave James there alone. She couldn’t let him suffer.

Flexing her fingers, she banished the shadowy thoughts. The discipline and old habits were still there, she just needed to reassert them. Raised voices reached her as she followed the hall toward the main portion of the house.

“The bloody cheek on you, Howard, I told you she’s likely dangerous and you’re _hiding_ her?”

“C’mon, Pegs, don’t be like that. I know what I’m doing and if you stopped thinking like a director for a moment, so would you.”

“But I am the bloody director. It’s my _job_ to assess threats. That woman is a threat.”

“That woman is Bucky Barnes’ wife.” Well, she never identified herself as such, but she let Stark speak as she moved on silent feet and drifted to the side of the hall, just out of sight of the main entryway.

“Then why did she call herself Rogers?”

“Because she’s hiding,” Stark told her. “Peggy—Steve’s gone and I miss him, too. I’m never _not_ going to miss him. We can’t help him, but maybe we can help Bucky and that starts by helping her.”

“You don’t even know it is Barnes,” Carter argued. “It could all be an elaborate ruse to win your trust.” She huffed. “It wouldn’t be the first time a pretty face turned your head.”

“It won’t be the last either, if that was what this is, but it’s not. Thank you very much. She saved Maria and Tony and that means I’m helping her.”

Natalia listened, the sincerity in Stark’s bombastic words shored up some of the ground falling away beneath her at Carter’s presence.

“Howard… I don’t know if I can let you do that.”

“This isn’t a SHIELD matter,” he told her. “This is personal.”

“Don’t… don’t do this. I don’t want to send someone to investigate you or to turn the city upside down looking for a Russian asset. She already admitted to breaking into NASA and stealing key technology.”

“And she handed you the name of one of their key assets here in the States, have you even checked into him?”

At the question, Carter went silent.

“You have… and you got something. _That’s_ why you want her in custody.”

“She knows a great deal, she could be useful to our fight.”

“And Bucky?” Howard asked. “What do you intend to do about him?”

‘If we can verify it, I’ll send a team to retrieve him.”

“It’ll never work,” Natalia said quietly and both jerked as they spun to face her. The scents of gunpowder and oil surrounded her. It reminded her of James in a way.

“I assure you, we have the assets to send to…”

“I don’t doubt that you have the resources,” Natalia said, meeting the other woman’s stern gaze. “I don’t doubt you have the confidence. But I also don’t doubt you will never find him without me. Even if you do—he will tear your team apart.”

“You’re so very certain?”

“Yes. Because I would.”

Stark straightened. “I don’t think that’s helping, Ms. Rogers.”

Natalia shrugged. “She asked. You can try to take me into custody, but you won’t keep me. You won’t find James without me. The most you would do is send them underground, they would put him on ice and keep him there until the search went away.”

With a glance at Stark, Carter took a couple of steps toward her. “What do you mean on ice?”

“Cryostasis. When James was not tasked with a mission or an assignment, he was put into cryo. It is a popular method for containing high value assets too volatile to allow their freedom.”

“Is that what happens to you?”

“I’m not volatile.”

“I see,” Carter said studying her. “If I wanted to talk to you—right now. Just you and I? What would you say?”

Natalia shrugged. “You may talk.”

“If you’ll excuse us, Howard.”

“Now you want to talk to her?” Stark argued. “I told you, Pegs. I’m on her side.”

Which made absolutely no sense.

“I think I’ll stay.”

“I’ll be fine,” Natalia told Stark. “Director Carter does not trust me and now she believes you’ve been compromised. By insisting, you are only confirming her opinion.”

The faint smirk on Carter’s face said Natalia had nailed it.

“And if I take your advice, I’d also be confirming it,” Stark persisted. “Pegs…”

“Howard, I said I’d talk to her. But I want to do it without you there to slant it in her favor. This will be agent to agent. You are many things, but you are not an agent.”

On that, Natalia would agree.

As much as she wanted to go to Mary, she kept the urge in check.

Stark was not easily dissuaded, he finally agreed to give them fifteen minutes and demanded they both promised not to shoot each other.

Since Natalia didn’t need to shoot her to take her down, she offered that easily enough. Once alone in the sitting room, Natalia took a position away from the windows and with her back to a wall.

“You could sit,” Carter offered.

“I’m fine. You wanted to talk. Talk.”

The silence stretched between them and Carter took a seat, crossed one leg over the other and then eyed her. “Why Rogers?”

“Because Steve Rogers was James’ best friend. It’s not James’ name but it’s close to him.”

“So you can’t go by Barnes.” It wasn’t a question.

“It wouldn’t be wise.”

“You think they’re looking for you now?”

“Yes.”

“And why haven’t they found you yet?” She raised her brows.

“Because I’m better. But also because they don’t know where I am. The more people who discover it, the more likely it is that my location will be compromised.”

A hint of surprise in her eyes, before she said, “Why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t,” Natalia told her. “Trust my desire to get my daughter’s father back.”

“You have to understand this is almost impossible to believe.”

“As impossible as turning a man into a super soldier?”

Carter grimaced.

“Or putting a man on the moon?”

“That’s science.”

“So is James.”

The woman shook her head. “I want to believe you.”

“No, you don’t.” That much was clear. “Because if I am correct, then a friend of someone you cared about has spent nearly thirty years in the custody of those who abuse him and use him for their own purposes. They try to control his every thought and he is not allowed emotions. He is a weapon to be wielded at their discretion.”

The thought seemed to make the director queasy. “What are you?”

“Make no mistake, I am also a weapon.”

“If I agreed to help you—to provide you with the resources to find him and to retrieve him—will you come to work for us?”

“No.”

Carter blinked. “I’m sorry? Didn’t you just say you wanted to get him back?”

“Yes. But I will be no one’s weapon again.” Not unless she chose it.

For her daughter.

For James.

There was no one she wouldn’t kill.

“SHIELD is not…”

“A paramilitary organization devoted to scientific research and the gathering of intelligence in order to make the world safer? Does that comfort you at night when you have to order an assassination?”

“I have never…” Then she paused and frowned. “To order anything like that would require the gravest circumstances.”

“Maybe. When you don’t sit in that chair? Who makes the call?”

“This isn’t about me,” Carter stated crisply. “We’ve all had to do things and make choices we aren’t proud of. That is the cost of peace.”

“That’s not peace—that’s silent warfare.” Natalia shrugged. “I don’t care what you call it. I will not work for SHIELD or anyone else.”

“So you rescue Bucky—your James—then what?”

“Then we disappear again. He doesn’t need to be a weapon anymore. He was just becoming himself again when they came.”

“You think that’s possible?”

Natalia lifted her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is he deserves better than this. He does not want to serve them.”

“Then… you said he would cut through forces coming to rescue him and that he serves even if he doesn’t want to. How is that even possible?”

“Conditioning. You are not allowed to rebel or to disagree. Compliance is rewarded—failure to comply and you will be conditioned or adjusted.”

Tiny lines tightened her forehead. “Brainwashing.”

“If you want to call it that. There is a place… a chair. You are put in it and electricity is sent through the body and the mind—it erases, blurs everything with static until it begins to chip away at who you are and who you can be.”

“Dear God. Have you…?”

“Been in the chair?” Natalia met her gaze. “Yes. Many times. James always pulled me back to myself.”

“And you can do that for him?”

“Yes.” She hoped. He’d never had such a profound sense of self before. He’d always been the Soldier and a little bit of James. It was that little bit and the Soldier’s affection for her that had been the anchor.

“What if he can get away on his own?”

“He won’t. He cannot disobey his orders. He’s tried.” So many times he tried. But once the conditioning locked, it grew harder for him. That was when he would lean on her. If she could change the order, he would follow her lead.

“I suppose if I tell you that I will not support this, that I would rather you came in—you and your daughter both. Let us take you into custody where we can protect you. What would you do?”

“Disappear. If you send your people for me, do not expect to see them return.” No one would touch Mary.

“What are you asking from Howard?”

“Resources. Supplies.” Security for Mary, but that would come later. She had to find someone she trusted to leave her with and that list was scant. But they had begun research. Security and stability. Two factors Mary would need.

“What does he get in return?”

“He’s asked for nothing.” She’d offered.

“Of course, he didn’t. Bloody fool sometimes. What happens to your daughter while you’re gone?”

“I’m working on it.” SHIELD would not be anywhere near her daughter, however. She’d made that clear to Stark. Nor would they do any tests. The only name they had for her was not one linked to the Black Widow though Stark knew who she was, he skirted that issue every time.

The Widow terrified him.

Good.

“I won’t turn you in for now. Provided…provided you feed me more intel. I want the names of all the players you know. What intel networks they have running here and overseas. I also want the information on your handlers and where you came from.”

“I will consider it.”

That was a great deal of information.

“Howard…” Carter called and the doors swung open abruptly. “As you must have heard, we have come to an agreement.”

“Good,” he said without an ounce of apology for eavesdropping. “You’re being requested in the kitchen, Ms. Rogers. Then we can sit and talk more about what comes next.”

Nodding, Natalia left them but not before she caught Carter’s, “I hope you know what you’re doing. This could all blow up in our face.”

“I don’t think so—I like her. She’s cold, but blunt and honest.”

Carter laughed. “Somehow, I very much doubt that last one.”

“You’ll see,” Stark assured her. “Have I ever led you wrong?”

**Pepper**

_Now_

“Thank you all for coming,” she said as she stood at the podium. “I will be reading from a statement and then I will entertain a couple of questions.”

She eyed the gathered aware of the cameras focusing on her as the reporters quieted. The notification had been sent out to the affiliates very late the night before, they had almost no time to scramble before appearing at Stark Industries. She’d elected to make the announcement in their own press room rather than the Tower or the Compound.

The fact it was New Year’s Eve wasn’t lost on her. This story would trend, then get buried in the celebrations. But it would be out there and it was a warning shot across the bows. Those who needed the warning were about to get it.

“I know you are all very busy and many of you have plans. So, without further ado…” Shifting her notes in front of her, she said, “Four days ago, in Los Angeles, just three days after the Christmas holidays that they celebrated together, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff and several members of the Avengers engaged in heavy combat to neutralize two rival gangs armed with heavy munitions, including .50 caliber guns, explosives, and armor piercing rounds. With minimal loss of life once they were on the field, they shut down the threat, destroyed the weapons and then were confronted by The Other Guy. At this time, where he has been or what he has been doing is unclear. As is the question of why he was there in the first place. There has been a great deal of speculation on why Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff have not issued any statements themselves on this matter. Simply put, they are on their honeymoon.”

The statement landed for a moment, then the pause rippled over the crowd.

“The call to assemble came while they were en route to a private location, they detoured from that location to tackle the matter as requested and then returned to their prior plans. On December 27th at nine a.m. Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff were married on a small island near Fiji, the name is being withheld for their privacy. Paperwork for the couple has been filed both with the city of New York and the state. Their marriage license was witnessed by myself and Happy Hogan.”

Happy bobbed his head behind her, a smile on his face. He’d told her she was nuts when she explained the plan to him. But it only took her a half-hour to get him on board.

“Please join me and Stark Industries in congratulating Mr. and _Mrs._ Stark on their nuptials as we wish them all the best. They most certainly deserve a happily ever after.” With that, she folded the piece of paper and said, “I’ll be happy to take a few questions…”

Her heart hammered but she kept her chin up. Let the Committee try to come after Tony Stark’s wife or exert undue influence, their own careful handling of Tony would shut them down and it would make Natasha and the rest of the Avengers far more untouchable while buying them the time they needed.

Keeping them safe was the goal and even Friday agreed with her. 


	65. Retrospect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Tony talk in circles, Wanda and Peter grow closer, while Remy and the group share intel and in the past, Natalia faces her decisions.

** Chapter Sixty-Five**

_ Retrospect _

**Tony**

“Hey, Brucie— let's talk.” Tony eyed the other man standing in the elevator and didn't miss the faint smirk that touched the corners of his mouth. He seemed a little more clear-eyed today than he'd been when Tony and Steve questioned him three days earlier. More, he seemed even focused today.

“I'm on my way to see Nat,” Bruce told him. “I'm worried about her.”

That was different. “You weren't all that interested in coming along, as I recall. What changed your mind?” In fact, he’d resisted being there. Then he’d lingered in the waiting room and hadn’t even tried to follow. His disinterest could be put down to a lot of things, but the simple fact was Bruce hadn’t been himself.

The elevator doors remained open, Friday had warned him where Bruce had been heading and he coordinated with Shuri to block the elevator from going all the way up to Natasha’s medical floor. In fact, he made it a point to make sure that neither Steve nor Bucky knew of Bruce's intended destination, while Clint did. Then they’d alerted Strange. Tony left he left all three there along with the doctor to keep an eye on everything.

“Tony, I'm not playing this game. I was a little out of it in LA, I just came back to myself and there she is on the ground bleeding. We’ve been here for four days and you haven't given me any word on her other than she was resting. Nat doesn't rest.”

“You've been gone a while,” Tony said then beckoned with a curl of his fingers. “But if you want to talk, let's talk.”

“I want to see Nat.”

“That's not gonna happen.” He met Bruce’s gaze and didn't flinch. For a brief moment, green sparked around the edges of his brown eyes. Then Bruce took a deep breath and released it. Standing just behind him, Vision studied them both carefully. Tony was putting a lot of faith in the idea that Vision would be able to handle The Other Guy if he decided to pay a visit. In turn, T’Challa was trusting Tony not to aggravate The Other Guy into making an appearance. Whether that happened or not, was anyone's guess. Bruce wasn't acting like Bruce.

“Explain,” Bruce said slowly his voice a little deeper and definitely a lot more rumbly. “I know she's hurt. I know she doesn't rest like this. And I know she can heal a hell of a lot faster than what it sounds like she's doing.”

“Like I said Brucie, you want to talk. We can talk. But you're not seeing Red until I have some answers.”

Releasing another breath, Bruce took a step out of the elevator. “Then let's talk. But I don't owe you any explanations.”

“Fine, you also don't need to see her and I don't owe you any explanations about her either.”

A flash of green returned, just flirting at the edge of danger. But Tony kept his gaze steady. He worked with Bruce long enough to know that The Other Guy could peek out but that didn't mean the other guy was gonna pop out. Bruce hated turning. Even when he worked with Natasha, he hadn’t enjoyed the experience. She'd made it easier for him, mostly because he could trust _ he _ would come back — Tony didn't doubt that one of Bruce's greatest fears was to become The Other Guy permanently and lose himself forever. That kind of fear would be something that Natasha would definitely understand.

To be honest, it was something that Tony understood.

“You’re in luck, by the way. I just made coffee. I'm doing some work you can come keep me company and fill me in. Vision, you coming along?” And not waiting for either of their answers, he turned and walked away. Bruce wanted something from him that meant Bruce needed to play his game. They needed to know where Bruce had been. More, they needed to know _ who _ Bruce had been with.

In his borrowed lab, Tony poured a cup of coffee and motioned to the clean mugs next to the pot before walking over to take a seat at the table he'd been running stem cell tests on the screens earlier. He wiped most of the research off before he stepped out. Currently, there were armor specs up. Bruce visited fidgeted with his glasses as he wandered in he ignored the coffee, as he studied the specs that were up on the screen currently and then he focused on Tony.

“Tell me what's going on.”

“You first.” Tony studied him. Folding his arms, he leaned back in the chair and said, “You've been missing for eighteen months. You said you went to work on finding balance or dealing with The Other Guy and shutting it down. You said you found help. You also said about a month ago you were you on your way to town from your cabin in the Sierra Nevada—then the next thing you know you're in Los Angeles.”

With a single nod, Bruce said, “Yes. That's what happened.” Except he didn't sound as certain this time as he had before.

“No,” Tony countered. “That's not what happened. I've been tracking your story, trying to verify it.” Bruce jerked at the news, was that surprise or fear? “You weren’t giving us much to work with and I need to know what's going on with you. You may have noticed that the world has changed a little bit. We had a few issues, with the world governments. The reappearance of The Other Guy is making a lot of people really uneasy — including yourself apparently.” Okay, maybe that was a little bit of a low blow, but currently, Bruce was not high on his trustworthy list.

“Tony…” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wasn't altogether myself the other day.”

No shit. “What does that mean?”

“It means I hadn't had an incident in more than 500 days. It isn't easy to remember what happens sometimes. I was disoriented, out of it. There was a lot of information flying at me and then we were here.”

That was new. Leaning forward, Tony leaned his arms against the desktop and stared at Bruce. “You said it's not easy _ sometimes _ — do you remember _ other _ times?”

Bruce shook his head. “Images. Sometimes I get the sense of it, like a bad dream. Nat was helping with that — she could put it into context for me. Made it a little easier — but not easy.”

Okay, that made a little more sense. Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. “Who's your friend?”

Bruce said nothing.

Vision had taken a position near the door but he seemed to be more intrigued by the discussion than anything else and refrained from joining them. Bruce, on the other hand, stopped meeting Tony’s gaze and resumed his fidgeting.

“Why does your friend or any discussion of your friend make you so uncomfortable?” Because in Tony's experience when you had to work that hard to hide something it was definitely something that needed to be hidden. Or it was something you really didn't want to share because it was going to piss off everyone around you. Having a great deal of experience with the latter when he didn’t want to share stuff, he couldn’t let this go.

Hello, Ultron.

Yes, Tony had learned a lesson.

“He's a friend,” Bruce said finally. “And it's not that I don't want to tell you… It's just it's—it's hard to talk about it and to explain.” The awkward stutter was Bruce, his mind working faster than his mouth.

“Brucie, does it occur to you that if you have a difficult time talking about this ‘friend’ that might signify a much larger issue about where you've been?” Maybe Tony had mind control on the brain or all the research they’d been doing into the damage done to Natasha's brain had gotten to him — but if someone had been manipulating Bruce they definitely wouldn't want Bruce talking about it. So then the thousand-dollar question was who the hell had the capability to manipulate someone like Bruce Banner? Besides Natasha Romanoff? He knew for damn certain that Natasha hadn’t been doing it.

The number of ideas that flitted across his brain, including people he was pretty sure were dead or too old to be effective.

No, definitely dead he, he thought. Natasha would not have let those people live considering the damage they could inflict and she'd been very clear and so had Bucky that they that she had killed the handlers when they brought her in from the Amalfi Coast after she more or less and surrendered to Bucky and given up the life she could've had with her daughter.

Tony shook off that for a moment and focus back on Bruce.

“Yes, and no. Tony, I know how you get. I know you think you're doing everything for the right reasons and that it's easier for you to ask for forgiveness than it is permission. But making 

“What's the secret? What is so important about him that it has to be hidden from me?”

“If you don't mind me also inquiring, Dr. Banner,” Vision said. “The details you are sharing currently suggest manipulation and a threat. We would be unwise to trust any information you shared based on the abridged nature of the information you are currently relaying.”

Tony gestured to Vision, the guy had a point. “What he said.” Did Bruce really think he was going to let him get within 100 yards of Natasha if Tony had no idea what the hell his game was?

Bruce sank down in a chair and leaned forward and finally, he met Tony's gaze. “I can't tell you his name. And that's weird.”

No. Shit. So Tony focused on they kept his attention careful and riveted. “Then tell me everything else you know. Because if someone’s gotten to you Bruce — we can help. But I'm not letting you anywhere near her when I can't trust you.”

“Why is whether I see her or not suddenly _ your _ decision?” Bruce asked him. “Why are you the one who gets to decide whether I see Nat or not? Steve smells more like her than you do. And the guy he was with definitely smelled like her.”

Yeah, not a line he intended to touch with a twenty foot pole. “She's my friend. That's all that's important.”

“I'm supposed to be your friend, too.”

“Then _ work _ with me,” Tony said. “Tell me everything you know. If there are blank spots. We’ll find a way to fill them in.”

The hesitation was there, holding him captive as though not allowing him to even take a breath. Finally, Bruce said, “His name is Lev…when I told you I met him on Madagascar, I wasn’t lying. But he was looking for me, not the other way around—he said he was there for Nick Fury.”

Son.

Of.

A.

Bitch.

**Remy**

“You know,” he said idly as he used his staff to knock aside some of the foliage Logan shredded. “This is not as bad a trip as our last one.”

Logan shot him a look.

“What?” Remy straightened and spread his arms wide. “Do you see creepy alien landscape anywhere? No, no you do not. Is it cold and arid? No, no it is not. It is beautiful and lush… we have charming company.” He gave Maria a broad grin, but she only rolled her eyes and returned his look with a bland one of her own.

Undeterred, Remy shrugged. “We even have a lawyer if we get into trouble.”

“Swamp Rat,” Logan said with a sigh. “What will it cost me for about fifteen minutes of peace and quiet?”

Pondering that idea, Remy knocked aside another huge bundle of foliage. Movement from the corner of his eye had him swinging the staff. Maria jerked as he cut it right above her head, but he wasn’t the only one moving. Murdock yanked her sideways and flung a blade and then Logan was there. The snake landed in six neatly severed segments though a good portion of it still hung up in the tree.

There was a beat of silence and Remy grinned. “The wildlife might be a little overly friendly—though we have dinner now if we want to make camp.”

“I’ve got rations,” Maria said. “I’m good.”

“Wasn’t talking about supper for you, Cherie, though I’m always happy to share,” he said with a wink. “We stopping soon, Cranky Pants or are we going to keep wading through this devil’s paradise?”

Logan scowled, then pulled out his phone.

“We’ve got another five miles,” Fury said. It was the first time the man had spoken since they arrived. Remy had been keeping an eye on him—a far less pleasant view than Maria, he did like it that she played hard and cold, it was more fun. Fury, though, set his teeth on edge. Not only because he’d been a pain to Boo, but because the guy was just downright shady.

Coming from Remy that meant something. He ran the Thieves Guild. Shady was his stock in trade.

Logan cast a look from Fury to Remy then back again. “Then we stop here.” He glanced up. They’d been moving half in and out of shadows dappled by sunlight, but the light had been fading rapidly. If it grew too dark, Murdock would take point.

“Fantastic. I’ll get the wood.”

“We’re not setting up a fire, Swamp Rat.” Logan cuffed him and Remy glared.

“I’m starving.”

‘That’s what the protein packs are for,” the man reminded him.

“Pfft,” Remy scoffed in disgust. “That’s not food.”

“Didn’t say it was.” Logan pulled out his canteen as he began to sweep the area and Murdock matched him on the other side, the men walking a circle. Remy glanced at Maria, but she just shook her head.

“We don’t want a fire this close, first of all, if it got out of control, we’re sitting in the middle of what it would burn and second…”

“Smoke and the smell could let them know we’re coming,” Fury stated. “We could make another couple of miles before dark.”

“Prefer not to sleep on top of them,” Logan stated. “Better to be fully rested and we need to go over what defenses we can expect on the far side.”

“Don’t know,” Fury stated. “We’ll find out when we get there.”

Remy raised his brows. The lack of cooperation was hardly a shock, but it didn’t bode well for how this would turn out. Maria’s reaction, though, intrigued him. She stared at Fury with icy cool eyes.

“You care to revise that answer?”

Fury glanced at her. “Not particularly. We’ll scout it when we get there.”

“Why are you lying?” Logan asked as he pulled out a cigar and clipped the end of it before lighting it up.

“We can’t have a fire and you’re smoking one of those?” Remy asked with a scowl. They had plenty of snake to go around. Course, if Logan kept flinging the pieces out into the jungle they weren’t going to have anything.

“Swamp Rat, focus.” Logan kept his attention on Fury, the other man just gave him a bland look as he cleared a spot and settled in. Sweat gleamed against his bald head, but his expression didn’t change much.

“Like I said, I don’t care to revise my answer. I don’t know what we’re facing until we get there. Ross had a lot of dangerous allies and even more dangerous enemies. But Romanoff cost him big when she got those recordings to the Committee. He was suddenly too hot for good company…”

“Which means he was left with the worst company,” Maria said slowly.

“Warlords, criminals, and pseudo-terrorists,” Fury mused.

Murdock returned, a thoughtful expression on his face. “This isn’t a country known for terrorists of any kind.”

“He means guerilla fighters,” Maria explained. She’d stripped off her jacket, baring her arms. They were tight, nice and muscular. Everything about her was long and lean… Logan slapped Remy in the back of the head and he glared.

Stomach growling and left with not much choice, Remy found a spot and dug out one of the dry protein bars. He and Boo needed to have a talk. The next time she needed help, would it kill her to need it somewhere with even a three-star restaurant? Remy offered her the Quarter and fine Cajun cooking. She landed him with dried out nasty protein and bad-tempered company.

Logan not excluded, of course.

“So, we don’t know if he has any allies left…” Logan puffed on the cigar, the tip of it growing red in the rapidly gathering dusk.

“Basically,” Fury said. “Hill and I could deal with it if you need someone to hold your hand before you go in.”

Remy snorted. “Old man, I wouldn’t get him started.”

“We can scout it tomorrow,” Murdock said. “Now is as good a time as any to decide what we’re doing with him when we get him.”

“I was thinking stringing him up would work,” Logan said with a shrug. Killing the guy would be messy.

“Killing him needs to be a last resort,” Fury said firmly. Then again, if Fury was on the side of not killing him, Remy could rethink the mess.

“Why?” Remy asked.

With a sigh, Maria raked a hand through her damp hair. “Because we need to interrogate him. We need to know what he knew and when he knew it. There’s a lot of levels to the game he’s been playing—it’s not just about Nat.”

“Don’t much care about the other levels of the game,” Logan stated. “He’s a problem.”

“But we don’t know if he’s _ this _ week’s problem or last _ month’s _ problem.” Murdock moved easily through the shroud and like the others set out a bedroll and settled on it. There was a knife easily at hand, but he also had batons tucked into a holster on his leg. “This could be a wild goose chase.”

“Doubtful,” Maria said.

“Your evidence?” Murdock countered.

“He’s hiding, for one,” Maria pointed out. “Falling out of favor didn’t mean he had to fall off the map. He’s avoided prosecution—either because he has something on someone or they don’t want his true actions to come to light. Either way, that makes him a liability. You let someone go dark for this long, the level of interest in them drifts away.”

“Makes it easier to kill him,” Logan stated. “Without making any noise.”

“Exactly,” Maria said. “But as far as Fury could tell…”

“No one’s hunting him,” Fury said. “He might as well already be a ghost. That means it’s more likely the former. He has the dirt. He knows where the bodies are buried.”

“Why do we care about these bodies?” Remy asked.

“Because we do,” Fury stated.

“Be less vague,” Maria advised. “They’re not here because they want to help us.”

“No, ma’am,” Murdock said slowly. “We’re not. Not saying we won’t help you.”

Remy raised his hand. “I’ll say it. I’ll help you, Cherie,” he said with a smile to Maria. “Him? Not so much.” He let his smile fade. He hadn’t forgotten what he’d pulled with Boo at the club. Boo didn’t want anything to do with him, that was all Remy needed to know.

Fury snorted. “Where does she find these people?”

“I don’t know,” Maria said. “They’re kind of endearing—in a Nat kind of way.”

Logan grunted. “Can the chatter and tell me why we care about the bodies. What does it have to do with Natty?”

Murdock chuckled.

“Something amusing there, Daredevil?” Fury asked and Murdock’s smile fled. “Yeah, I knew. She didn’t say a word. Every time I sent her to bring you in, she always found a reason to clear you.”

Surprise flickered across his face.

“That’s cause Boo is the best,” Remy stated. “And you’re changing the subject again.” He’d finished the dry-as-toast protein bar and washed it down with some tepid water. “And I’m bored.”

“Nick—widen the circle.” Maria looked at him expectantly. “Or I will.”

“You only think you know everything,” Fury told her. “But you already checked out of this fight once.”

“No, I checked out of signing off on every idea you have. This fight—I’m in it to the bitter end. I owe her that much.” With that, she looked to Remy then Logan. “Ross had tapes and information on Nat’s history, where she’d been—things that were done to her.”

“The chair thing,” Logan said.

“Exactly. He also hunted The Other Guy—Bruce Banner for a real long time. Nat used to be the one we sent to warn him off and to cover Banner’s trail.”

“You think that put Ross onto her…”

“Yes, but we also think it’s more. He knows something about her history. He was working with some Russians she took out a few months ago.”

“The thing with the mind control,” Murdock said slowly.

Maria nodded. “He knows—how much? We don’t know exactly. But he knows enough to be dangerous and if he’s tied up with what happened in LA and they sent The Other Guy there to be enraged by the warfare—Nat got in his way again. All of the Avengers did and it’s not the first time.”

“He hates them,” Remy said slowly. He hated all of them really. The freaks. The people with powers. The ones who were different and wouldn’t be controlled. So far, the Accords had been focused on the Avengers, but if they ever stopped fighting them—the next people on their list would be people like Remy and like Cranky Pants. Even Murdock wouldn’t be safe.

“Fine,” Logan said slowly. “We’ll interrogate him, but you’re not swallowing him down some dark hole. We’re there for all of it. Me. Swamp Rat. The broad. The attorney. He can remind us of his bullshit rights.”

Murdock chuckled. “Thanks…I think.”

“You’re welcome,” Logan stated then took two steps forward and pointed at Fury. “But let me paint you a picture, Bub. You try to flip this, you try to get around us with some shadowy operation and you’ll be short another eye and you seem to be running low. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Fury said, seemingly unperturbed. “But I’m asking the questions.”

“Don’t care, long as I hear the answers.”

“Then we have an understanding.”

Logan nodded once.

“Great,” Remy said, clapping his hands. “I’m bored, who brought the cards?”

**Wanda**

The door to Peter’s room opened and he wandered out bleary-eyed with his hair askew. He was kind of adorable in his plaid pajama bottoms and white t-shirt. Rubbing at his face, he made a beeline for the kitchen and opened the fridge. There were a couple of pitchers of juice in there along with some glass bottles of water—it wasn’t exactly glass, but it was all reusable and didn’t break when she dropped it.

A handy thing.

He pulled out one of the pitchers of the mango juice combinations and began to drink it straight from the pitcher. She bit back a smile as he tilted it up and continued drinking until he’d swallowed all of it. Impressed, she pressed two fingers to her lips to keep from laughing aloud.

Done, he let out a little belch and then set the pitcher to the side before ducking back into the fridge again. When he stood with a covered plate, Wanda entertained herself by watching him heat up the food. The plated dinners had been delivered for them, there had been quite a bit—apparently, Steve’s appetite had earned them extra portions.

At dinner, Peter had eaten two full plates, so it was hard to imagine he was hungry again. Of course, she’d seen Steve eat a great deal more so maybe not as surprising as all that.

After he removed it from the warmer, he set it down to grab some silverware and she focused on the plate and lifted it gently then floated it out of the kitchen and toward her. He turned and then paused, startled before he swung around to see her holding his plate.

Grinning, Wanda said, “Did you warm this up for me?”

“Um…” He fumbled and she swore his cheeks turned pink. “No, but if you’re hungry—take it.” Then he held up the silverware. “Oh yeah…” he made it two steps before she worked her will and pulled the fork and knife to her. The beef dinner had been heavy on the protein and while she hadn’t been that hungry at supper, she was rather famished now. “Cool,” he exhaled. Then with a shake, he turned back to the fridge. “There’s more in here. And pie. Did you know Wakandans made pie? I mean everyone probably has a pie of some kind but they have pie and it kind of smells good, but I thought I’d save it for after food.”

She waited until he got the plate in the warmer before she asked, “And after juice?”

Eyes widening, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “Crap, you saw that?”

Wanda laughed. “Yes, I did and it’s fine. You remind me of Pietro sometimes, always moving so fast and tripping on your own eagerness.”

He grimaced. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“It’s a good thing,” she promised him. Missing Pietro would never go away. The other half of her heart had been ripped out. They had never been apart, not once in their lives until the moment Ultron’s bullets shredded his body and her soul. Now, she was left only with her memories and a ghost where her brother should be. “A very good thing,” she said with a small smile as her humor fled.

With care, she dug into the food and Peter made his way over to join her. “You all right?”

His question was sweet, like he was. “Yes, I’m fine. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Bad dreams?” The understanding of those two words invited her to confide in him.

“A few… sometimes, you just can’t get away from them.”

“I try music when that happens,” Peter admitted. “Doesn’t always work, but if I can crank it up—sometimes I can drown out all the bad thoughts.”

Bad thoughts. They ate in silence for a few minutes and then Wanda said, “Sometimes I go for a walk—change my environment. Other times… I’m too tired to move and yet…”

“Way too awake to lie still,” he said and she met his gaze with a slow nod.

“Yes, exactly.”

“So what is it when you’re sitting in the dark?”

Dropping her attention to her food, she cut another slice before she said, “I don’t want to go to the lab. But I feel like I should.”

“You don’t want to see Natasha in the cryotube.” Understanding lived in those words.

“No,” she said softly. “It was horrible enough the day they did it. To go down there now—I feel like…”

“You’re intruding?” He twirled his fork a little, dancing it around his fingers. “I don’t think she wants us to see her like that—but it’s harder to see Bucky, Tony, and Steve.”

Was it ever… Wanda let out a shuddering breath. “Clint. He’s putting on this brave face. This absolute strength. It helps him to look after us and then there are moments when the shadows in his eyes are so intense, I know it’s not me he’s seeing.” Clint needed to look after them because it helped him cope, but he also needed to look after himself. But the pain radiating off those men was almost tangible. It physically hurt.

“We should be there for them—even if it’s just to distract them. Aunt May said that sometimes the best thing you can do for a family who’s waiting is to talk to them. Get them to tell stories, bring them back to a positive time.”

“That sounds like wonderful advice,” Wanda admitted. “But I don’t know if I want to try and tease more stories out of them. We did that when the Mandarin had her.”

Peter’s glum expression echoed her soul. “Yeah.”

“How are you doing?” Wanda asked. She’d eaten most of the food and for once, it wasn’t sitting like a rock in her stomach.

“Me?” He straightened. “I’m all right. Just… really worried. Really, really wishing that hadn’t happened to her. When she told me she was going to come here to try and break through those memory blocks—because of the seizures and stuff, that was bad enough.”

Wanda nodded. The nosebleeds. She should have said something at Thanksgiving, but she’d let Natasha dismiss the concerns. It was so very Natasha to do that. But Wanda shouldn’t have let her…

“This? This seems worse because she was hurt first and now she’s in that tube and they don’t know how long and I keep thinking I have to go back to school—what if she’s still there? How can I go back and just leave her there?”

Pushing her plate aside, Wanda leaned forward and caught his hand. He squeezed her fingers. “You wouldn’t be abandoning her. She won’t be alone. Natasha would be the first one to tell us to do our jobs and get back to our lives.” She could practically hear her in her head.

“But what if…”

“No,” Wanda said firmly. “No matter what happens or how long it takes, we’ll get her back. I’ve watched her fight off far worse things. Survive far worse.”

Flashes of the ballet room flooded her mind. Dancing until her toes bled. The numbness in her muscles, yet still moving in absolute precision. The blankness as the sense of herself erased until she was only blood and pulse and motion.

“If you have to go back to school—I’ll make sure you know what’s going on, I’ll call you every day.” She could promise that.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He gave her a smile. “Thank you. But maybe she’ll be awake before the…” He paused, then glanced around. “What time is it?”

Wanda laughed. “I have no idea.” She didn’t have a watch and Peter running his thumb over one of her rings was distracting. Phone. She needed her phone. Shifting, she used her free hand to pull it out of her pocket and Peter moved to sit next to her and they interlaced their fingers. It was nice to hold onto someone.

“It’s—after midnight. I guess it’s later than I thought. My time is all out of whack.” They’d been up and down at all hours. Dinner hadn’t been that long before but still…

“After…well damn.”

“Why?”

“Happy New Year, Wanda,” Peter said, the corner of his mouth crooking upward.

Surprise fluttered through her. “Oh, Happy New Year, Peter.”

Then he dipped his gaze once or maybe she did, but he leaned forward and she met him part way. The lightest of kisses, just a brush, given with such care, she sighed. She pulled back a moment and met his surprised gaze, but then she surged forward and clasped his face as his mouth opened to hers and the soft kiss grew much deeper.

Her heart hammered and she swore it thudded in the whole room. When Peter touched his tongue to hers, the sofa shuddered and she broke away a moment and then everything in the room hit the floor at once jolting them. The crash of the plates startled them apart and she stared at the disarray in the room before swinging her gaze back to Peter.

They burst out laughing at the same time. 

**Bruce**

The intent look in Tony’s expression reminded him of all the reasons he’d wanted to avoid this conversation. The other man had never been a fan of Nick Fury. Bruce couldn’t say he cared for him too much, but Natasha seemed to trust him. Though, if he thought back to India, she’d never said she trusted him.

_ “What does Fury want me to do? Swallow it?” The image was a glowing cube, it could be anything. _

_ “Well, he wants you to find it. It's been taken. It emits a gamma signature that's too weak for us to trace. There's no one that knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was, that's where I'd be.” _

_ “So Fury isn't after the monster?” _

_ “Not that he's told me.” Smooth, easy and soothing. She didn’t even flinch while she held his gaze. _

_ “And he tells you everything?” _

_ “Talk to Fury, he needs you on this.” That should have been his warning. Right there. Her manner and tone said it was all fine and reasonable, but her words hedged her bets. _

_ “He needs me in a cage?” _

_ “No one's gonna put you in a...” _

_ “Stop lying to me!” He yelled, slamming his fist hand against a table. Faster than he expected, he stared at her down the barrel of her gun. Her eyes narrowed, her pupils shifted and everything about her radiated tension and danger. _

_ It threw him back to his mother and the tautness in her expression when his father yelled at her. When he lifted his fist and Bruce blew out a breath and straightened. _

_ He’d gotten his answer. _

_ She might look unflappable and sound relaxed—but the monster terrified her, too. _

_ Well, at least they had that in common. Even after she lowered the weapon and told the team outside to stand down, she didn’t relax again. When he tried a peace offering, her expression told him he was lucky she hadn’t shot him. _

_ Funny thing was, he really believed that. _

“Like I said,” he continued. “Lev told me he worked with Nick Fury, that he was one of many who’d been looking for me. I said that was great, but I was fine where I was.”

If anything, he’d pretty much waved Lev off. He wasn’t ready to go back. He wasn’t ready to see the others. It wasn’t just because Nat shoved him off the edge of a cliff—literally. No, it was a lot of different reasons. Code Green had been for emergencies only and yet those emergencies came more and more. Then the witch showed him becoming The Other Guy forever.

And Bruce…

He closed his eyes forcing his breathing to stay even and his pulse to slow. Tony still stared at him, almost patiently, when Bruce opened his eyes again. Almost, because he leaned forward. He _ wanted _ to know. Bruce could practically taste his curiosity.

That was closer to the Tony he remembered. The protectiveness was as well, but he’d never so completely boxed Bruce on the outside before. He’d never made Bruce—_ other _.

Then again, he hadn’t done it this time so much as Bruce had done it himself.

“Lev is a nice guy, laid back, almost peaceful. He reminded me a little of that guy on the helicarrier—the suit.”

“Coulson,” Tony supplied.

“Yeah, him. Only not, Lev’s more athletic and it felt more like he was working at being relaxed than actually relaxed. The point is—he was decent company. Didn’t push, didn’t make demands, just started keeping me company on my rounds. If I needed space, he backed off.”

“He was grooming you,” Tony said. “Putting you at ease.”

“Maybe—or maybe like me, he was tired of the fact there was always another fight. When I asked him why he was still there, he said, ‘Following you around isn’t stressful and I’m still doing my job. Win. Win.’” Bruce grinned, it had been funny at the time. Tony’s expression, however, remained deadly serious so Bruce’s smile faded. “Look, he never asked me for anything and he helped smooth the way—told me it was the same thing Fury used to have Nat doing.”

That had been a surprise to Bruce. He had no idea Nat had ever done that, though he supposed it made sense. Trouble had dogged him for a long time, then fell away. The months in India had been some of the best. After Harlem and after leaving Betty—again—he’d needed peace. He’d had that until Nat came to “collect” him.

The information didn’t even seem to register with Tony as a shock. “You knew…”

“She told us,” Tony said with a shrug. “She was your shadow and mine. It was her job to clean up after us and to keep the dogs off. Harder with you than me, I’d think. I had security.”

“Good to know I was just a job.” The bitterness that crept into his voice mirrored the bite in his soul. He’d resented that information when Lev carelessly shared it. It made sense, didn’t make it any easier.

“The pity party train stopped the day you walked away,” Tony told him without any sympathy. “We needed the help.”

“You hated SHIELD.”

“Not past tense,” Tony corrected him. “I still hate them. I hate what Hydra did to them on the inside. I dislike anyone who thinks they can control every aspect of other people’s lives.”

“That’s…”

“…not what Red did. You can be pissed at her that she excels at her job, but Fury tasked her with watching your back and she did it. He did the same thing with me—used her to get at me. You can choose to be pissed at her for being used as a weapon or you can admire the fact she cut those ties and protected us of her own volition. Your choice.”

He’d really like to believe that. “The point is… Lev seemed to understand what I needed. What I wanted to focus on. He found us a place—deep in the Himalayas. After China, we got there via China before we headed to Nepal. He kept me off the grid and gave me a place where I could work on me.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed.

“Before LA—before that incident—I’d found peace.” Guilt nagged at him a little when he exhaled. “After the Accords were announced—Lev told me you and Nat signed.” Maybe that should have surprised him more. “And we both thought it better that I stay away. So I shut it off… especially after Germany.”

“After Red was on the run—_ Ross _ was hunting her.” The verbal jab landed and The Other Guy grated against his skin, shoving at him and Bruce slowed his breathing. “But yeah, you should have stayed away. Why help your friends?”

“What did you want me to do, Tony? Show up so they could start opening fire on me?” He raised his brows. “Would that have helped Nat?”

“It might have done more than just ignoring her and us. You think she would have let you hang in the wind? Or that I would?”

Another lance of guilt stabbed at him.

“Am I letting you hang in the wind _ now?” _ Tony pinned him with a look.

Hands clasped together, Bruce said, “You’ve been a good friend.”

“Then help me out here. Because I’m _ worried _ about you.”

Which was a hell of an admission. Tony got bossy and domineering when he was worried. Sometimes cutting and abrasive. Maybe Bruce wasn’t the only one who’d had some major geologic shifts in the last several months. The fact he didn’t want to discuss Lev, that he didn’t want to look at his friend and question his motives nagged at him.

“I’m okay, Tony,” Bruce said slowly. At Tony’s frown, he held up a hand. “I—Lev helped me with cognitive training. I can talk myself down most of the time. I’m aware of The Other Guy—I’ve always been aware of him but I’m not ignoring him now or just trying to hide him away.”

The internal snort made him flinch.

“You really don’t want to talk about Lev,” Tony said slowly. “Do you see the problem?”

Bruce opened his mouth, ready to dispute it but the words stuck in his throat. Cold iced down his spine and he clenched his fists. He needed to call Lev, but he wanted to do it himself… “I get that it’s a problem for you,” he said slowly. “But that’s all I’m willing to share right now. Are you going to tell me about Nat now? Or do I need to go find her myself?”

A fast knock on the door was their only warning before he it pushed inward and Clint stood there. Tony rocketed to his feet at Clint’s intent expression.

“Everything all right?”

“We need to talk,” Clint said slowly. “Hey, Bruce.”

“Hey Clint,” Bruce frowned. “Is Nat all right?”

“She’s resting,” Clint told him, but he barely spared Bruce a glance before he focused on Tony. “A word?”

“A little busy here unless it’s an emergency.”

“I do believe Mr. Barton is concerned about the announcement,” Vision stated. “I should have offered my congratulations but I was still researching when that would be appropriate.”

All of them looked at Vision and Tony said, “Congratulations?”

“On your marriage to Ms. Romanoff—my apologies, Mrs. Stark.”

Bruce leaned back in the chair. “Tony’s what?” The ice on his spine turned to lava and he clenched his fists. Marriage?

“My what?” Tony gaped.

“Yeah,” Clint said. “About that—” He held up his phone and the headline shouted out that Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff eloped with a leading statement from Pepper Potts.

Eloped.

Bruce turned to look at Tony, the stunned look of incredulity in his eyes a dead giveaway. Was _ this _ what Tony had been hiding?

**Natalia**

_ 1973 _

The weather had turned brutally cold. The forecast had called for wet slushy snow and it had been coming down for hours. The interior of their apartment was warm enough, though she and Mary wore sweaters. Natalia had found a small tree at a local lot—it was nothing like the ones she and James had set up, but it would do.

She strung popcorn and cranberries as Mary tried to help. Then they made paper ornaments and hung them on the tree. While she’d been weaned for almost a month, Mary still occasionally asked to nurse. They settled for cuddles, which was why Natalia was still seated on the chair in the dark, with Mary tucked against her chest asleep and the tree lit by a small lamp.

They hadn’t added tree lights; though she and Mary had both been fascinated by the different displays they’d seen. She’d taken her to Rockefeller Center to see the tree lighting, lingering long after she should have made herself scarce. Stark still had no news on James nor did Carter, though Natalia had begun to wonder if the latter would tell her if she did.

Stark had been true to his word so far. He’d asked for her blood twice more and explained he was trying to separate out the serum. When she challenged him on why, he said because the advances had helped Rogers and maybe—just maybe—when she found James they could use it to help him and others, too.

Or maybe he just wanted to make his own soldiers. Regardless, he planned to keep his research quiet until he finished it. On that, he’d been adamant.

It was a dangerous trade, but if it got her James back…Natalia could live with it.

Not for the first time, she glanced at Mary and wondered if she was making the right choice in going after James. She wanted him back desperately as much to have him as to prevent him from being used against her. He’d extracted a promise from her to kill him if they ever took him again.

There had to be another way.

The festive tree at the Stark mansion had captivated Mary and they had been invited to spend Christmas with the family but those were dangerous attachments. She hadn’t decided yet, but at least Carter had come through and found her a pair of sparring partners. She met with them twice a week and had for the last three weeks. Or at least she _ had _. She was always masked and so were they.

They didn’t speak.

They just fought.

The bruises from the first few bouts healed swiftly enough and her speed increased. Both sparring partners had been injured after the last bout and Carter had stressed she wasn’t allowed to harm them, but they’d grown incensed at Natalia for avoiding their moves. Their tempers had gone from trying to outwit her to beat her through sheer strength.

It had been the first real thrill she’d gotten in training.

She needed more partners and they needed to be more brutal not less. Carter had not been thrilled. Then Stark had brought in Special Forces security—five on one.

It had been exhilarating. The challenge pushed her. But she needed more. She needed to feel the intensity, because if she had to fight James…

Sighing, she pulled her attention back to the present. Jarvis would be by to fetch them the next day. Stark had been vetting possibilities for her—people who could look after Mary. He’d done background checks and would provide her the data then she would do her own checking. They still had a few days left until Christmas but it looked more and more like James would not make it for the holiday.

One way or another—when spring came she had to make her move and that meant she had decisions to make.

But no matter what happened, they wouldn’t get Mary.

None of them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I flew out yesterday to grab my kiddo and drive him home for the holidays. Lots of pieces are in motion, but the next few chapters are going to bring several of these disparate pieces together. Thanks as always for reading!


	66. Declarations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony challenges Pepper on her actions, Steve makes a call and Bruce finally begins to cooperate while Logan tracks Fury to a secret meeting and in the past, Natalia continues to make plans

**Chapter Sixty-Six**

_ Declarations _

**Steve**

“You want to run that by me again,” Tony said, his expression fierce as he glared at the table where his phone lay.

“You both needed something to shut the Committee and the pundits up,” Pepper said, her tone absolute calm. “Your continued absence and silence weren’t getting us anywhere. The clock was running down on the Accords negotiations and they were just waiting to make a move, consider this a pre-emptive strike.”

Dangling his glasses from one hand, Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “So you just announced we eloped?”

“No, I made it so you did actually elope. The licenses are real and legal, they are filed, the prenuptial agreements signed and executed…”

“How the _ hell _ can it be legal when Nat’s not even awake?”

“Her attorney,” Tony said with a scowl.

“How did _ you _ talk Isaiah into this?” Clint asked his patience something Steve craved at the moment. It was like being a party to a theater of the absurd. “That man agrees to nothing.”

“If I may, Ms. Potts,” Friday interjected quietly.

“Of course, Friday, but you only did as I asked.”

A muscle twitched above Tony’s eye. Steve grappled with a lot of different emotions at the moment, but Tony’s barely repressed fury kept Steve’s feelings in check. Bucky hadn’t moved or said a word since they’d entered the room. He stared straight ahead, his face expressionless. That worried Steve even more than the vein throbbing in Tony’s forehead.

“What did you do, Baby Girl?” Tony gritted out.

“We analyzed all the points of weakness that could be exploited if Nat’s status does not improve within the next seven to fourteen days coupled with the outstanding threats that were never fully taken off the table—including the move to revoke her status as a U.S. citizen under charges of fraud because the original application—which I have since located and buried—did not contain accurate information on her background.”

A cover. Either SHIELD or Natasha had used a cover for the application. It made sense.

“In due course of the analysis, revoking her status as an American citizen would then revert her to the citizenship of the country of her birth and deportation could be ordered—which would put her under the direct authority of the Russian government again.” Friday’s explanation made categorical sense.

“We would have fought that,” Tony gritted out. “Easily. We have no extradition treaties with Russia.”

“But that only protects our own citizens and those determined to be under U.S. asylum, if she becomes a political hot potato, they sacrifice her in a minute,” Pepper added. “Making her your wife killed several birds with one legal form. Her status as a citizen is secured, even if they try to revoke it, she can be naturalized as your wife after two years of marriage, and no judge is going to order your wife deported. In the meanwhile, the Committee was already tap-dancing around offending you where she was concerned, what do you think they are going to try and do to Mrs. Stark?”

“Goddammit Pepper…” Tony pivoted away from the table and paced away.

“Tony…”

“Don’t try to handle me on this,” he said with a snap as he faced the table. “It was a _ bad _ call. One we have to walk back.”

“We can’t,” Pepper said. “It’s why I made it public and when you calm down, you’ll understand it. The transparency, the spin of it into some great romance, the papers are already running with it. It feeds public sentiment and protects her at the same time as it protects you. The pressure is going to ease off. In a few months or a year, you can let it fade, then walk away after a couple of years if that’s what you two decide to do.”

A couple of years? Steve’s gut lurched. It was a marriage on paper only, but… Jesus.

“Why the hell would you think this was a _ good _ plan?” Tony demanded. “I’m not joking here, Pepper. You literally just yoked Red to me without so much as asking me much less her. She’s fighting for her damn mind and you just take this choice away from everyone involved?”

“It was the only choice that protected _ you _ and let you continue to do what _ you’re _ doing while keeping her safe, too,” Pepper said, her even tone wavering ever so slightly. “And in the 24 hours since I announced it, it’s already working and it hasn’t hurt her a bit. Don’t you dare think you’re the only one who wants to protect her. She saved my life, Tony. She saved yours. The least I could do was protect her and if she’s pissed, she can yell at me all she wants. I’ll take it. Just like I’ll live with it from you. But when I go to sleep tonight, I’ll know you’re both safe and that those coming after you are going to think twice about it now and, more likely, back off. Your enemies and hers.”

“My enemies? _ My _ enemy was the one who tortured her for days. This just paints another target on her back…”

“Except she’s the Black Widow, and they’re afraid of her.”

The argument was going nowhere. “Stop,” Steve said quietly and Tony jerked his gaze to him. “Just—let it go for now.”

“Steve…” The stricken look on Tony’s face and in his eyes echoed Steve’s own feelings on the subject. Then again, marriage wasn’t even a topic any of them had broached save for Bucky and as yet, he’d said nothing on the subject. His silence unnerving.

“I know, this isn’t what you wanted to happen. I do know,” Steve said. “But it’s done right now. Just—do you agree with Pepper? Would it do more harm than good to walk it back?”

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted, raking a hand through his hair. The shadow of growth on his face threatened to turn his goatee into a full beard. “I really don’t. If they were to continue to revoke her citizenship, this doesn’t guarantee they won’t but it makes it substantially harder for them to remove her and we have the resources for the legal challenge—not that she wouldn’t have had the resources regardless,” he added with another glare toward the phone on the table.

“But this can nip it without the distraction of a challenge,” Pepper supplied.

“Then leave it alone for now,” Steve said. “We have enough problems and if this one is settled, we can leave it alone until she’s back on her feet.”

“Then it’s her call,” Bucky said, speaking for the first time since they got the news. “I don’t care what it looks like to the press or anyone else, it’s _ Natalia’s _ choice.”

“Agreed,” Tony said without argument. Steve felt bad for the guy and at the same time…

He envied him the chance to call himself her husband real or not. That—was a pointless exercise and he shook it off. Natasha loved Steve and he loved her. The titles and the names, they meant something but not much in the face of the other.

“Fine, then we let it stand,” Tony said. “But that’s it Pepper, no more executive decisions from you where I or any of the Avengers are considered and Friday…”

“Yes, Boss?” She sounded almost meek.

Almost.

But there was just a hint of defiance and Clint’s raised eyebrows told Steve he wasn’t the only one who heard it.

“You get another _ request _ from Ms. Potts or anyone else where we’re concerned and you run it past us first before you act on it.”

“Ms. Potts’ request was directly in line with my protocols to protect you and Nat,” Friday informed him.

“Did I ask, Baby Girl?”

“No, Boss, you didn’t, but the plan had merit and I vetted each of the factual statements she gave me with at least two sources, then weighed them against potential outcomes. We don’t want anything else to happen to Nat.”

No, they really didn’t. Steve glanced at Bucky, but his best friend wore a faintly incredulous look as he shook his head. “Then don’t make choices for her, Friday. If you have learned nothing about her at all, learn _ that.” _

“I understand, Sergeant Barnes. I really do want to protect her.”

“We all do,” Pepper added.

“There are ways to do it that don’t usurp her choices,” Tony stated. “Of all the people I thought I’d have to explain it to, Pep—you wouldn’t have been on that list.”

“Shockingly, I never thought I’d have to do something like this to make sure a friend of mine didn’t end up in more trouble because the actions of a few have left her with few alternatives.”

Exhaling, Tony said, “Yeah. I gathered.” Then the call was over and it left the four of them regarding each other.

Clint finally shrugged. “Not sure whether I’m supposed to congratulate you or not,” he said. “But you do get to be the one to tell her.”

“Thanks,” Tony said without an ounce of sarcasm. “I can’t wait.”

Neither could Steve, really. She’d have to be awake to tell her.

“What are we doing with Banner?” Bucky asked and that drew them around to look at the man waiting with Vision on the monitor. Tony had been in the middle of questioning him when Clint went to look for him. Steve studied the scientist, the nervous tics seemed to have relaxed and his intent frown seemed more like he was working on solving a problem of his own.

“He says his friend’s name is Lev, but that isn’t a lot to go on,” Tony admitted. “He also seems to have trouble talking about him. I pointed out that should be a warning flag, but he keeps avoiding the topic with the kind of canniness that says he knows it’s a problem but he can’t seem to admit it.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Bucky asked.

“Honestly? It could go either way. He seems more him than he did four days ago and he’s adamant he wants to see Red. But at the same time…”

Bucky cut a look at Steve. “We should talk to him.”

“Bucky…”

“That’s a bad idea,” Clint said. “Let’s be blunt. You want to punch the guy and while I’m feeling a similar urge, we do not want The Other Guy ripping through when Nat’s not here to calm him down.”

“We keep saying that and all he’s doing is stonewalling and sitting in his room. Does he want to bring out the monster or keep it shackled?” It wasn’t an unfair question. Bucky considered them one at a time, waiting for an answer.

“Can you keep your temper in check?” Steve asked him.

“Steve,” Tony said, but Steve held up a hand.

“We’ve been treating him with kid gloves and we’re likely to keep doing that but if you’re not getting anywhere and we need these answers, then either we question him or we invite him out.”

Because the longer Bruce was there and the more he kept asking for Natasha, the more likely they would have an incident.

“Then we talk to him together,” Clint suggested. “All of us and we make it a meeting and not an interrogation.”

Bucky snorted. “Whatever makes you feel better.”

“You need to unwind if you’re going to do this,” Clint didn’t bat an eyelash as he met Bucky’s cooler gaze. Even pounding on each other hadn’t done more than blunt the edge and Steve had needed that edge blunted. Bucky, on the other hand, hadn’t relaxed so much as the surface calmed. For months now, Steve had been enjoying having his best friend back.

He’d been more and more Bucky. This—this wasn’t Bucky. It was like Bucky took a step back and the Soldier stood in his place. The disquieting reality reminded Steve that no matter how far they’d come, they were still walking an edge and it was Natasha who kept them together.

They had to work harder at this so that burden wasn’t solely hers.

“What do you want to do?” Tony asked him. “So far, my plan hasn’t netted us much more than a name.”

“We’re gonna do it Stevie’s way.”

Steve blinked. “You want to tell him now?” That was the last thing he expected from Bucky.

“I don’t want to tell him anything. I’d be happy if he were once again in the rearview, but if we’re going to get anything we’re going to have to give something. Tony’s plan isn’t working. That or just cut the guy loose and get rid of him.” Either sounded like an option Bucky could live with, Steve wasn’t so certain.

Tony lifted his shoulders when Steve glanced at him. He wasn’t any more confident of this plan than Tony was.

Ten minutes later, they joined Bruce in the lab where Tony had left him with Vision. The android glanced at them as they entered, saying, “And I was right. It would appear Mr. Stark has not forgotten about you nor has anyone else.”

Facing them, Bruce frowned as he glanced from one to the other. The frown deepened when he locked gazes with Bucky and despite his best friend’s expressionless face, his rigid posture could not be interpreted as anything but aggressive. Bruce lingered his attention there for a moment before he finally fixed on Steve.

“I take it we’ve reached the unpleasant portion of our stay.” It wasn’t a question. “As angry as you all might be,” Bruce continued. “Just remember, I don’t want to hurt anyone but beating an answer out of me isn’t going to go well for any of us.”

“Dr. Banner,” Steve fell back on formalities. They’d been Bruce and Steve from the word go, but they weren’t at the moment. Steve wasn’t sure they ever would be again. “No one here wants to beat it out of you.”

“He does,” Bruce said with a gesture toward Bucky. “Glad to see you were able to finally find him, not sure he’s all that stable.”

“Why don’t we reserve psych profiles for a day when we’re all on even footing with each other, Doc,” Clint drawled, cutting right through the tension and dragging Bruce’s focus toward him. “Right now, you want answers and so do we.”

Steve didn’t think he’d ever been more grateful for Clint’s grounded presence because Bruce seemed to relax a fraction. “Fair,” he said and exhaled before he met Steve’s gaze again. “Question for question?”

The faint narrowing of Tony’s eyes promised they’d gotten a little further in the cooperation department. “You told Tony your friend’s name is Lev,” Steve said. “What’s his last name?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce said and then held up a hand when Bucky snorted. “Actually, I really don’t know. He said it when I met him but…I never called him anything but Lev and to be honest…” For the barest moment shame flickered through his expression. Steve had seen that same look when he told Natasha sorry on the destroyed streets of New York when she’d said she’d seen worse. “I didn’t want to know what his name was. I didn’t expect to know him that long.”

Steve was inclined to believe him.

“Baller move, Doc. You’d think of all of us, you’d be a little more paranoid.” So was Clint apparently.

“About someone who couldn’t actually hurt me?” Bruce asked without any inherent arrogance.

“The fact you think no one can is a weakness,” Bucky pointed out ripping Bruce’s attention toward him. “Good to know.”

Tony winced, but Steve just held up a hand before folding his arms again. “Your turn,” he told Bruce.

“Where is Nat?”

He weighed how much to tell him against the how much they needed to know. The fact there was so much unknown about Bruce put them at a disadvantage. “She’s in cryostasis.”

Shock rippled across Bruce’s face. “What? How bad is her skull fracture? Was there brain swelling? Why isn’t she bouncing back? I know she has a…” He hesitated a split-second.

“A variant on the serum?” Tony supplied for him as he raised his brows. “Yes, Brucie, we’re aware. But that’s several questions and we’re one for one at the moment.”

Mouth flat, Bruce glared, then looked at Steve. “Your next question?”

“You told Tony you left your place a month—almost five weeks ago—then your next memory is being in Los Angeles. Why are you not upset about losing five weeks of time?”

The shift to Bruce’s expression was subtle, almost troubled but it passed over his face in ripples as if it couldn’t quite take root. “It’s disconcerting,” he admitted. “And I can’t afford to get too upset about something like that—I’ve lost time before, but usually only when I was The Other Guy.” His brows tightened. “But if I was The Other Guy for weeks, you’d think we would have seen him sooner.”

“Thank you,” Clint muttered almost under his breath.

Some of the defensiveness bled out of Bruce’s posture and he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “What is Nat’s actual medical condition—can I see her chart?”

Steve glanced at Tony, of the four of them, he was the most aware of the medical intricacies.

“No,” Tony said. “You can’t see her chart. The whole of her condition isn’t directly related to her injury. We stabilized the skull fracture. Wakanda has access to some interesting tech. There were brain bleeds, but we’ve also managed to control those and reduce the swelling. The cryostasis is to help maintain her condition, keep swelling down, and allow her the time to heal without additional stressors or pain.”

The scientist dropped to sit in his chair, his shoulders slumping a little. The worry in his eyes wasn’t manufactured when he looked to Steve again.

“Can you get in contact with Lev?” Even without a name, they could trace a phone number or web address—something.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce said, “I usually reach out to him through a web address. We use burner phones. I don’t want to be tracked, I get rid of the phone and contact him later when I do.” He seemed to wrestle with the fact for a long moment. Then he gave them the address.

“Friday?” Tony said.

“On it, Boss.”

“Thank you,” Steve told Bruce.

“Can I see her?” Bruce asked.

“She’s in cryostasis and I’d rather you didn’t lose it in there and then The Other Guy is trying to tear her out of it.” Because Steve suspected The Other Guy would do exactly that. Considering it took everything in Steve not to do that himself. “When she wakes up, _ if _ she wants to see you—well, we're not going to get in the way.”

Bucky snorted and Steve sighed.

“You really don’t like me,” Bruce said to Bucky.

“No,” he said flatly. “I don’t. You hurt her.”

“So did you,” Bruce countered “And that seems to be working out... for you.”

Steve slammed a hand against Bucky’s chest as he moved forward. “Doctor, it would be great if you didn’t bait a fight you insist you don’t want.”

“Never said I didn’t want it,” Bruce answered. “Just said it wouldn’t end well.”

Locking his gaze on Bucky’s, Steve asked him for patience. They were both demanding a lot from themselves on this. For Natasha, they could damn well do it even if it ate him alive that she was trapped in there. He could only hope it wasn’t like when he was trapped in the ice—vaguely aware of it before darkness swallowed him over and over.

Then again, hers might be worse as she re-lived a past he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

“Not helping Brucie,” Tony said. “You think after ditching her for 18 months and forgetting she existed while Ross hunted her down in no small part because of how she protected you and could help you with The Other Guy… you have any special privileges here?”

Silence blanketed the room. “I didn’t ditch her.”

“Well, you flew away,” Clint pointed out. “You fell off the map. You didn’t call. You didn’t write. What do you call it?”

Bucky stopped leaning into Steve’s hand and then nodded once. The tension was far from gone, but he backed up a step and seemed to get himself under control.

“_ I _ wasn’t the one who went,” Bruce said slowly and Steve frowned as he twisted to look at him. “I told you where I woke up… I wasn’t the one who left.”

“Granted,” Tony conceded. “You were the one who stayed away and let her dangle in the wind.”

“Well you married her, so she didn’t dangle for that long.” The bitterness in Bruce’s voice couldn’t be anything else. “Even if she has something going on with Steve and him.”

“Don’t go there, Bruce. This isn’t about us. We didn’t abandon you.” Tony’s tone hardened with each word.

“And this isn’t helping anyone,” Steve said. “Our relationships are not the subject for discussion.”

“But mine is?” Bruce challenged him.

“You don’t have one,” Steve told him. “You forfeited it when you left. As far as I’m concerned, you are history. An old friend, a former colleague, and right now, a problem. You want to be something else, get off your ass and stop playing the martyr.”

Surprise danced through his expression.

“We don’t have time for this,” Steve told him. “We have real problems. Problems we’re all facing and have been facing even when it’s been damned uncomfortable. So what is it going to be, Dr. Banner? You in or you out?”

**Logan**

Dawn was still an hour off, but Fury was up and moving away from the camp. It was still, even the jungle had begun to doze as the night movers gave way to the day shakers. The others were asleep. Remy’s light snores punched through the quiet air. The woman—Hill—had been restless for hours, but she too had finally drifted off. Murdock had taken first watch and tapped Logan three hours earlier before he settled. The man dropped right into a doze. Fury had seemed asleep, but Logan had noticed the shifts in his breathing.

So he settled against a tree and let his head nod down. Faking genuine sleep wasn’t hard. Even the breathing out and go still. It took Fury another two hours to take the bait.

But the moment he was out of the clearing, Logan was on his feet. He woke Murdock with a hand to his shoulder. The devil wouldn’t ask the questions Remy might pepper him with and he didn’t know Hill. “Fury is on the move, keep watch.”

Murdock nodded and Logan rose to follow Fury. Practice kept his steps quiet as he trusted his senses to follow the other man. Fury smelled of leather and gun oil along with aloe vera and green tea. The latter probably had to do with conditioning his bald head.

Useful information.

Fury moved silently, not marking his passage. He moved with lighter feet than his age suggested. Then again, the man was a master spy with the demeanor of a soldier. There was likely a lot about him cloaked and hidden. The man rubbed Logan the wrong way, had for years. But Natty had always seemed fond of the bastard so Logan ignored it.

Not anymore.

She’d kept Logan, Remy, Murdock and likely a handful of others off SHIELD’s radar. It had been a risk for her to do it and Logan hadn’t even realized she had been doing it. Made a hell of a lot of sense though. This was the same woman who’d barely trusted him around her daughter even when she’d been in desperate circumstances.

Thank fuck she knew about that, now. The fact he’d not been able to say anything had always niggled at him. He’d given his word, though. It was hard to go back on that even when he met her _ again. _Natty had been different and not in the same breath. She barely went by her name and even when she changed it to Natasha, Natty fit, so he went with it.

She tolerated his familiarity and his friendship, but one day, he’d realized she trusted him because she called him for help. This was after he’d asked for hers twice already. Maybe he should have told her then.

Shaking off the musings, he focused on Fury. They were moving on a direct, south by southwest course.

Ross.

Though he’d brought the machete with him, Fury kept his cutting to a minimum, rerouting around potentially clogged paths. The closer they came to the compound, the easier the passage became. Logan climbed as they reached the edge of a clearing where the compound walls were visible several meters beyond.

Climbing, he found a perch in one of the trees and kept watch as Fury scouted the location. That was a point in his favor. Not much of one, but at least he hadn’t just walked up to the front door. The distant dawn grew closer as a thin line of pink ribboned across the sky.

The humid air had cooled some in the night, but it was still sticky and a fine sheen of sweat dotted Logan’s face. But he ignored it, jungles were the same all over the world.

Miserable.

Moving at a diagonal, Fury seemed to be clocking the guards. It was dusk before dawn when the guards were at their laziest and the chances for slipping by them were higher. Logan marked four, no foot patrols—at least while they waited.

Still, Fury didn’t try to get close to the building. Instead, he moved in a circuit, keeping inside the edge of the jungle as he tracked around it.

Leaping from tree to tree, Logan followed him. His claws impacted in the bark to stabilize his landings, but he had to take it slow so the sound didn’t carry. They neared a road that cut through the lush landscape leading up to the compound.

Fury slowed his route there and settled into the shadows of a tree. Trusting his nose, Logan scanned the front of the walled compound. There were buildings inside and from his vantage, he could make out a larger house and two smaller ones. There was also a pool and a garden. It looked like a cozy little escape in the middle of nowhere.

A handful of vehicles were parked the circular drive of the house—all SUVs and all the same gunmetal shade.

Typical.

Fury waited for the better part of a half-hour, during which time the guards inside shifted stations—and two stepped out to begin a perimeter sweep. They went in opposite directions with one heading almost directly to where Fury lurked. Moving carefully, Logan repositioned himself as the guard stepped into the jungle.

“You’re late,” Fury said.

“Shift change,” the man answered. “You were supposed to be here last night.”

“Unavoidably delayed,” Fury answered. “Is he still in residence?”

“Yeah, he’s here and in a bad mood. Holes up in his office mostly, we don’t see him. He had a visitor a few days ago, but the guy didn’t talk to anyone but Ross then left again.”

“Did you get a look at him?”

“Director…”

“Not the director anymore.”

“Right. Asshole—if I got a look at him, I’d give you a description or a photo.”

“Do you have either?” If the man’s insult bothered him, Fury didn’t show it. The guard’s accent was vaguely British, though he seemed to be parroting an American one, maybe it was part of his cover. Fury having someone on the inside would have been useful information.

“As a matter of fact…” The man smirked then held up his phone. Logan couldn’t see the image from his position, but he could see Fury’s face.

Recognition registered. “Son of a bitch.”

“Don’t know, didn’t catch his name. Look I got three minutes before I need to move or I won’t make rendezvous with the other guard. What do you want me to do?”

“Undecided.” Fury glanced up from the phone as he tapped the two devices together, transferring the data. “Can you get me and one other in? Or is that going to be too much?”

“Eh, anything’s doable,” the guy said. “It just depends on how bad you want it. Could burn me here, so if we do it, just be ready to take me with you on the way out.”

“Understood. Ross is alone right now? No family? No visitors?”

“Nope, hasn’t had much contact as far as I can tell. Like I said, that guy was here a few days ago and then it’s been nada. About five days ago, he stopped leaving the compound altogether.”

“Stay close, keep your ears on. We’ll be here in the next twenty-four hours. Alert me if he gets company.”

“Choose a mealtime for your drop-in. The guards go down to four then, and I can always drop something in the food to give you a little peace and quiet. Course, he’s down to just twelve of us, there were another ten a week ago, but they left with the other guy.”

Then the guard was out and on the move leaving Fury to stare at his phone and the image on it. Logan waited for the guard to be out of earshot before he dropped down. He found himself staring at Fury’s gun and smirked. The bullet wouldn’t do him much good unless he was a really good shot and Logan’s claws were still out. He could shred the gun with one slice.

“Want to share with the class?”

Fury’s expression closed off and he lowered the gun. “I should have known one of you would follow.”

“Yep. You don’t trust us and we don’t trust you, Bub. So—who’s the visitor you were so interested in? And were you planning on telling us you had an inside man?” Because that meant he’d had a bead on Ross for a lot longer than just recently. From the look in Fury’s eye, he understood that Logan had already narrowed it down to that simple fact.

“The inside man is need to know. He’s positioned to facilitate, everything else is on us. The visitor…” He showed Logan the image before he nodded toward the deeper jungle.

The man seemed familiar. Logan had seen him…

“Russian.”

“Yep.” Fury said as he ducked a low-hanging knot of vines. “Yuri Brevlov. Former KGB. Russian asset. Recruited him into SHIELD. Had Romanoff work him—she’s also the reason he got drummed out.”

Great.

“So he has an axe to grind with Natty.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. The guy’s not just a hothead, he’s cold, meticulous, and he doesn’t fly off the handle. He takes his time.”

“Psychopaths aren’t all frothing at the mouth.” Logan didn’t much care about the psychology. If he were the threat, hunting him down and gutting him would solve the problem.

“Except…” Fury said slanting a look at him. “Brevlov’s not a psychopath, he’s a sociopath. And if he’s working with Ross this changes things.”

“Not for me.” Logan snorted. “Don’t use this as an excuse that we leave that son of a bitch alone to see what other snakes crawl out to join him.”

“I’m not,” Fury said. “But I may switch my attention and let you have Ross.”

Let him have…?

Logan narrowed his eyes. Brevlov _ worried _ Fury.

Now wasn’t _ that _ interesting?

Curious, he dangled a thread. “What does he have to do with Molot Baga?”

The former director of SHIELD cut a glance toward him. He might as well have jerked for how much he gave away in that simple move. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Around,” Logan said slowly. “Do they know each other?”

“God, I hope not,” Fury muttered before increasing his pace.

**Natalia**

_ 1974 _

The party was in full swing when she arrived. After checking her coat, she made her way toward the ballroom. A waiter swung past her with flutes of champagne and she accepted one before beginning to circulate. The weather outside was frigid, but the snow had abated and what little remained was more ice than slush.

She skimmed the crowd in search of her targets. There were two scheduled to be present tonight and she wanted a good look at them in a social setting. The first she found chatting with his wife and a companion about the art show at the center of the evening’s gala as it was also a fundraiser. Natalia only listened with half an ear as they raved about the quality of the work.

More bemused than anything, she drifted to the edges of the conversation as they moved on to the next piece leaving her to study the one in front of her.

It was…

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” A masculine voice inquired and she glanced over her shoulder to find her second target had found her. Tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed, he gave her a small smile before lifting his squared jaw toward the painting. “I don’t even know what it’s supposed to be.”

Returning her gaze to the “art” on the wall, Natalia canted her head. “I’ve heard it described as a test of faith.”

The man moved to stand next to her and he snorted. “I think that would be a stretch of judgment.” The corner of his mouth kicked up as he glanced at her. He paused a beat. “You’re not the artist, right? I heard she was here and that would be vaguely humbling not to mention humiliating to insult your work to your face.”

“Better than lying that you like it when clearly you don’t,” she teased him before taking another sip of champagne. His expression tightened in a wince. “But fear not, I am not the creator of this…” She glanced at the painting again. There were people in it, she could see them and they were all—straining away from each other. It was just an uncomfortable image all the way around. Particularly because the people looked pained. “I think they’re supposed to be rapturous even if they lack faith—which I don’t understand.”

It wasn’t a ploy to deepen the engagement. She really didn’t get it. Faith was not a concept that held much value beyond a single person.

“I don’t think you’re the only one,” he murmured as he cupped her elbow and guided her toward the next painting as more people began to gather at the one they’d been examining. “Take a look around… what do you see?”

She made a sweep of the room. Each painting had a handful or more standing before them. The majority did seem to be chatting, but not about the works of art. In fact, they seemed more focused on each other than the paintings.

“Socializing,” she said with a small shrug. “Much like you and I are talking.”

“Exactly, but let’s play a game, shall we?” Then he paused and eyed her. “If you don’t mind the company.”

More amused than anything, Natalia dipped her head. “I don’t mind at all.”

“Fantastic,” he said, offering her his arm. She settled her hand on the crook and allowed him to guide her as he began to describe the various interactions. The man had a good feel for people, though his outlandish tales were fodder for great fiction.

“Those two are definitely having an affair, they are both here with their spouses, but they’ve spent more time talking to each other than anyone else and they find constant excuses to touch each other. In about three seconds she’s going—there she goes. See, she had to put her hand on his arm and his eyes immediately lift and his gaze goes to her. Poor besotted fool. If they keep that up, even their rather oblivious other halves are going to notice.”

The couple in question leaned toward each other often and her companion was correct, they often touched each other. “I don’t think so,” she said slowly.

“No?” He eyed her. “Why not?”

“Well, his wife has her eye on the lovely lady accompanying the musician. They keep making eye contact and are likely going to find an excuse to step out in a few moments.”

“Hmm…”

“I rather suspect her husband is equally enthralled by the woman near the bar who has looked at her watch a half-dozen times and… there he goes.” The husband touched his wife’s arm and murmured something before diverting away toward the bar. She barely noticed his absence as she turned fully toward her lover.

“You’re good,” her companion applauded. “Nice catch, but you really think his wife…” He trailed off and lowered his drink as the wife headed out of the gallery toward the hall with the restrooms and the musician’s companion diverted to follow. “Damn.” Then he blinked and glanced at her again. “So sorry.”

Natalia chuckled. “I’m not remotely offended.”

“I gotta admit, the idea of two ladies is not as off-putting as I might have thought.”

“Most men seem to enjoy it—even when the ladies aren’t doing it for them.” She cued the tone perfectly and his pupils dilated at a fraction at the implication. Holding his gaze for a beat, she gave him an opening but he took a drink and glanced away.

Interesting.

“What do you think of that couple?” He indicated a silver-haired pair that seemed to be talking even as they moved through the crowd. The man constantly checked the woman’s position and if she was pulled away or distracted. No separation was longer than a handful of minutes before they joined each other again, there were always words—kind ones—sweet ones.

“I think they’re charming. Married, likely for decades, and so attuned to each other they don’t need to talk in longer sentences, but they move together.” There was something enticing in the idea of spending so much time with someone you could move together, breathe together, anticipate their moves and what a comfort to know you would always have them—that no one could take them away at a whim.

The ache spread through her before she could suppress it.

“Wouldn’t mind that,” her companion commented.

“Who wouldn’t?” Despite her light tone, she experienced none of that lightness. They needed to change the subject. She studied the crowd as her companion moved them on. He never once withdrew his arm nor tried to close the connection.

Interesting and though she marked the behavior in his favor, it made her more curious about the man and what eccentricities he might be hiding. For the next hour, they debated the various attendees, ascribing to them motives and behaviors too wild to be believed, but now then—they would both identify someone with something to hide. Whether her companion tested her or she tested him, they always found a similar thread to pull.

When he offered to get her another drink, she declined. “I’m afraid I should be going,” she told him. She’d come to assess two targets. She’d dismissed the first within five minutes and spent the last two hours with the second.

“I must say,” he said, releasing her to turn and face her. “I’m very sorry to hear that. I’ve truly enjoyed getting to know you…” He raised his brows and she grinned.

They had not exchanged names.

Not once.

“Natalie,” she answered and when he continued to look curious, she added, “Natalie is sufficient.”

“Natalie,” he murmured, then offered his hand. “In that case, I’m Will.”

“It’s been a pleasure, Will.” Though she had known his name long before she walked in. His gaze dipped to her left hand and the ring she sported.

“Married?”

“Widow.” Well, at least it wasn’t a lie.

His expression gentled almost at once with a genuine sympathy. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“As am I,” she said. “I thank you for your kindness and your companionship this evening—I had fun.”

“So did I,” he said, continuing to hold her hand. “What are the chances I can convince you to see me again?”

Very good actually, but she dipped chin and hid a small smile. It was more appropriate. “Perhaps, though I am afraid I don’t get out to functions like this very often.”

“Thank God,” he said, then gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry, I got shanghaied into coming tonight and I’m damn glad I did. Look—let’s get our coats and I’ll walk you out and put you in a cab.”

“I’d like that.”

It only took them a couple of minutes to reach the coatroom and request their jackets. He helped her into her long black coat and surreptitiously slipped a card into her pocket. It was a smooth move.

Giving Will mental applause, she smiled as he took his own coat and tipped the girl for both of them before walking her out. The air was biting after the heat indoors and at the same time welcomingly free of cloying perfumes and the hum of too many people talking.

“There’s a show at the Met next weekend,” Will said as they descended the steps. “It’s supposed to be fascinating, I don’t suppose I could convince you to meet me and people watch together.”

“Because we should definitely not go for the art.” At her arched brows, he chuckled.

“Definitely not.” At the curb, he whistled and a yellow cab rolled up toward them. “Now, I’m going to put you in and I’m going to pay the driver a handsome fee to see you home and I’m not going to linger to get the address—though I am tempted.”

“But you’re a gentleman and you’re trusting me to show up.”

“Let’s say I’m testing a theory,” he said with a wink and handed her into the cab. “The Met, Friday, seven sharp. I’ll be the rather droll fellow in a tux.”

“Tux. So I’ll need something nice to wear.”

“You can come in jeans,” he said. “I’d still enjoy seeing you.”

Then he passed a few bills to the driver.

“Take the lady anywhere she likes.” Then he locked his gaze on her. “I hope I see you again, Natalie.”

She gave him only a smile and he stepped back and closed the door.

“Where to, miss?”

“Just drive, I’ll give you the address when we’re three blocks away.”

He gave her a look, then shrugged. “His dollar.”

Yes, yes it was. Though she was tempted, she didn’t glance back at the man as they pulled away. Dipping her hand into her pocket, she pulled out his card and examined it carefully.

The embossed fiber told her the Americans had definitely stepped up their surveillance game in the last few years. After memorizing the information on it, she let the card drop to the floor of the cab and had the driver take her to a place in the East Village.

It would take her time, but she could get a different cab from there.

~~~

“Are you sure?” Jarvis asked as he poured the tea.

“No,” Natalia said. Ana and Mary sat playing together in the corner of the kitchen. The Jarvises had set up a play area for Mary for as they came often to the house these days. Her birthday wasn’t that far off and her heart gave a little wrench. “But he is by far the most intelligent of the candidates and he possesses a streak of honor and honesty.” He was also dangerously clever. The card to track her path impressed her.

It also gave her cause to test him further. Cleverness only got them so far. If he’d made her all bets were off.

Setting the cup in front of her, Jarvis frowned. “I understand your reasons for not considering us as candidates. But I question the selection of a stranger.”

“I have my reasons,” Natalia told him. “It’s not that I don’t think you wouldn’t take care of Mary, because I genuinely believe you would.”

That seemed to please both of them, but Natalia focused on her daughter for a moment.

“But you both know too much about me and that could be another potential danger.”

Jarvis glanced at his wife and then sighed as he took a seat.

“We know,” Ana said, stroking her hand over Mary’s darkening hair. Soon the hints of red would be all that was left, it reminded Natalia of James more and more. “What will you do next?”

“Continue to train. Howard has requested I retrieve some stolen designs for him and it will be a good test run… would you both watch Mary for me for a couple of days?” It wasn’t designs precisely; he’d identified the people who’d sent men after his son. Natalia would confirm and eliminate the threat.

It was the least she could do.

“Of course,” they said almost at the same time and it gave her a pang. They cared about her little girl and she’d grown rather fond of the couple.

“But I do believe Ana was asking about the gentleman,” Jarvis prodded her gently and Natalia shrugged.

“I might go to the Met on Friday at seven to see if he is there… in the meanwhile, I will continue my own surveillance and search.”

“There were four more names,” he offered.

“I know and I will investigate them all. You do remember the agreement.” She didn’t need to remind him but Jarvis nodded nonetheless. They had compiled the list from Howard’s research and suggestions, most of the background checks cultivated from SHIELD files.

Natalia and Jarvis along with Ana narrowed it down to ten names and those were all Natalia’s now.

She had eliminated several as candidates. But Mary would need a home when she left, one safe and distant and not linked to her or to James. It was why she could not stay here even if the idea tempted.

Regardless of the outcome, Howard was not to be informed of any of it. He’d given Jarvis and his wife the same order. Even if he asked, they weren’t to tell him. They would be her secret-keepers for this—maybe. She had as yet not decided whether she would tell them her final decision or mislead them altogether.

The latter might add another layer of security.

“Mrs. Stark and Tony will be returning from California next week,” Jarvis reminded her. “Mr. Stark insists it is safe for them to come home.” Howard had sent them away after Christmas when a fresh round of threats presented themselves. Another attempt, this time to steal Tony from his nanny, but the security had been in place and thwarted it.

They hadn’t killed the men though. So at least that gave them someone to question. They wouldn’t have been as fortunate if Natalia had been there. They weren’t safe yet, but when she was done—they would be.

“Then we should probably believe him,” Natalia said.

“Mama!” Mary called. “Pway!”

She smiled. “Yes, malyshka. I see you playing. You should dance for Ana and show her the new steps you’ve learned.”

It took no encouragement at all to get Mary up to her feet and she began to move. She had first, second and third positions down. As Natalia worked to tone her muscles and discipline, she’d begun to dance again and Mary was often with her. It wasn’t hard to walk her through the basics and it entertained her daughter.

With each passing month, Mary asked for Papa less and less. She hadn’t even mentioned in this month and it broke Natalia’s heart. How long would it take her to forget Natalia if she didn’t come back?

Pushing that thought into a dark corner of her mind she barricaded it behind a wall. If Natalia didn’t return then it was better for Mary to forget. It would sever all ties to the Winter Soldier and Black Widow and keep her safe.

Her safety was everything.

“Well done, Miss Mary,” Jarvis complimented her before catching Natalia’s eye. “Then I shall look forward to seeing them and _ you _ again.”

She lifted her teacup in a quiet salute.

The clock inside her kept ticking down, but she had time yet. Catching sight of herself in the window, she met her own gaze.

Time, she promised. It was why she was doing this.

Buying her family time. 


	67. The Catch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the past, Natalia's plan moves forward while in the present, Maria and Fury talk before the raid begins, Clint gets Bucky to talk and Peter and Wanda are awkwardly adorable.

**Chapter Sixty-Seven**

_ The Catch _

**Natalia**

_ 1974 _

Natalia stood under the awning as the rain came down. Most of the snow and ice had melted away with the rain, but the temperatures were far from pleasant.

“Natalie!” A shout pulled her around as she caught sight of Will slipping out of the cab and dashing through the rain toward her. Hair dripping, he raked a hand through it and gave her an apologetic smile. “So sorry to keep you waiting, the time got away from me.”

He panted just a tad too hard and there was a flush to his cheeks as if he’d been exerting himself. But more, there were shadows beneath his eyes as if he hadn’t been sleeping.

“I didn’t mind,” she assured him. “It’s actually been interesting standing out here watching people race through the rain.” Not everyone raced though plenty were just walking and plowing ahead with their umbrellas up—a sea of them really. It had tapered in the thirty minutes she waited.

“It’s cold,” he scolded. “You should have gone inside.”

“The cold doesn’t bother me,” she promised. “And I thought since this is our second official dinner, it would be better if we were seated together.”

He gave her another smile. “Absolutely.” Then he offered his arm. “If I may…”

Sliding a hand through to rest on the crook of his arm, she said, “Of course you may.”

It was their fifth evening together in three weeks. He’d wanted more, but she’d kept them to a more cautious and wary pace. They’d gone to the Met as planned and then to the American Museum of Natural History. Dinosaurs, he’d insisted, would be more entertaining than art. People-watching was also an option.

When he wanted to take her to dinner after, she let him take her to coffee but then she had to go and fetch Mary from the Jarvises. They’d been fantastic in looking after Mary while she continued to vet Will. The more she got to know him, the more she thought he was the right choice.

Their first dinner had been just three days after the museum and tonight was just three days after that. Once they were seated, he ordered wine. The restaurant was very nice, upscale without being ostentatious. It was also quiet with the scattered tables throughout tucked against huge planters and fat columns creating hellish sightlines and artificial privacy.

When he’d held the chair for her that forced her back to the door, she’d motioned to the one just to the left. “If you don’t mind…”

“Of course not.” That put him next to her rather than across and allowed them more intimacy. It also let him put his back to a wall, too.

After their main course was served, she said, “Not that I am objecting, but this restaurant doesn’t suit you.”

“No?” He lifted a brow as he dotted at his mouth with his napkin. “Don’t think of me as a fancy guy?”

She chuckled. “Hardly, you wore a tux quite well as I recall. No—there is no way to people watch here.”

“Ahh…” He lifted his wine glass. “True enough. Then again, the only person I want to watch tonight is you.”

“I see.” After taking a careful bite, she lifted her lashes to let their gazes meet.

“I’d like to know more about you… I feel like I’ve known you forever and I don’t even know your last name.”

She didn’t fight the flirty smile. “It has been intriguing, I must say. We must always agree to see each other the next time at the end of the current evening.”

“Exactly, because I don’t have a way to let you know if I’m going to be late or not…”

“Or to cancel,” she reminded him. “Nor do I. I think by showing up, we prove we are where we want to be.”

The lie slipped in so easily, she barely noticed it herself. Natalie Rogers, a widow and mother of a young daughter, was enamored of her secret paramour—a man who was as much a mystery to her as he was not to Natalia. This little bit of stolen romance allowing her to escape her grief. The best fictions were close to the truth after all.

“Indeed,” he murmured. “I would have been devastated if I’d missed this evening altogether. We might not have seen each other again.”

“I would have been disappointed, but it would not be a first for me,” she admitted carefully.

When he reached over to settle his hand on hers, she kept her posture relaxed. “Would you tell me about him?”

Him. Her husband.

“We practically grew up together,” she said slowly. “He was my best friend and more.” James had been everything. “When we ran away…it was an adventure.”

“You eloped?” Interest filled his eyes and Natalie gave him a small smile, the tears burning in the back of her eyes not manufactured. The little fist of grief in her chest aching. “Your families didn’t approve?”

“No,” she said without any irony. “They definitely did not.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Family is important.”

“We only needed each other,” she said.

“Then you lost him…” He wasn’t quite asking, he’d tap-danced around it since she told him. Hinted, but never directly intruded. It was another mark in his favor—a kind of empathy that was hard to manufacture.

She should know.

“That seems like an innocuous word—lost. Like I misplaced my keys or set my gloves down and wandered off. He wasn’t given a choice nor was I…”

“He was drafted,” Will said slowly. “Vietnam?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted and let him take the story where he would. “They never told me.”

He shook his head. “I’m very sorry, Natalie. We should have pulled out of there a long time before we did.”

There was nothing to say to that so she took a sip of the wine. The quiet lay over them like a shroud.

With a hint of a self-deprecating chuckle, he said, “I’ve managed to turn this evening into an utter misery.”

“Not quite that bad,” she said, taking the time to cover his hand this time. “I miss him. I’m probably always going to miss him.”

“But you’re going out now… if you’re not ready for anything more.”

She would never be ready, but in some things, she had no choice. “I guess that would depend on what something more is…”

“Fair enough,” he answered with a smile. “What about a last name?”

“That seems to be a big step,” she mused. “I don’t know if we’re ready for that.”

“Well, what about a weekend away?”

She raised her eyebrows at the request. His expression didn’t shift, if anything it grew bolder as he met her gaze.

“You, me—three days at a nice hotel somewhere. We can spend the time, maybe go to some shows or never leave the room. Really get to know each other.”

It was definitely direct.

Letting the silence tick past, she studied the intensity in his eyes, the flare of his nostrils and the way he licked his lips twice as if his mouth was too dry to moisten them.

“Too much?” he tested when she’d said nothing more.

“No,” she said slowly. “I think I prefer the directness. If you wouldn’t mind me being equally blunt, I have a question of my own.”

“By all means.” Not quite relieved, he exhaled a breath then lifted the wine bottle and refilled their glasses. For all his confidence, the request had unnerved him. She would imagine he had not planned this and as seduction techniques went, it wasn’t the best.

Though she found herself growing inexplicably fonder and that just wouldn’t do. Putting a pin firmly in place, she crossed one leg over the other. It had been a while since she’d seduced anyone or persuaded them. She could do this.

She had to do this.

“Is it only about getting me into bed?”

“No,” he answered without hesitation. “But I do want you there, too. I am—fascinated and enchanted by you. I’ve never known a woman like you before. I want everything I can have, but I also don’t want to push you. Meeting you at the gallery that night was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

“That is a good answer,” she admitted before taking a sip of her wine. “And I’m not sure I can just escape for a weekend without planning.”

“Okay,” he said, easily. “Is week enough time?”

She laughed at the pronounced eagerness.

“It’s Friday now, so maybe next Friday morning we drive up to Vermont or New Hampshire—find a quiet out of the way place. Wherever you want to go. We could stay here in the city—just stay together. Hell, if you said yes to tonight, I’d find the nicest place we could.”

It was almost sweet. “That’s a lovely offer, but I’m afraid all my impulses must be tempered because I have a babysitter waiting for me at home.”

Surprise flickered through his expression. Lowering the glass, he said, “You have a baby?”

“A little girl, almost two,” she admitted. “She’s my everything.”

The sudden smile he wore settled one of the last questions she had. “I would love to meet her—when you’re ready.”

Will was too nice of a man for the work he did and too honest of one, too. At the same time, it was the combination of honesty and cleverness she so badly needed for Mary.

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all, I wish you’d told me from the beginning but your reticence makes even more sense now than it did before. Of course, you’re protecting your daughter with your anonymity.”

“She’s all I have left…I never thought we would be able to have children.”

Leaning forward, he took her hand again. “I can’t either. Since we’re being so honest.”

Head canted, she maintained a curious façade. She was well aware of the training accident that had nearly gelded him. The inability to father children also made him an ideal candidate. A man who wanted them and couldn’t father them would love one even more if given a chance.

“When I was younger and stupider,” he admitted. “I was in the military. Accident gone wrong. Still works but shoots blanks. So getting involved with me… probably won’t give you more children.”

Natalie ran her thumb over the side of his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“When I was younger, it didn’t matter. Age changes perspective.” Not that he was that old.

“I can imagine, it has certainly changed mine.” In so many ways. “I suppose we are being very honest tonight.”

“I guess so,” he said lifting his wine. “What else would you like to know?”

“Tell me about your family?”

It opened a door to a whole other conversation that lasted for another hour and through dessert with after-dinner drinks. Finally, it was getting late and he asked for the check. At least when they got out front the rain had tapered off. Since the third time he’d slipped a card into her pocket and she’d accidentally lost it, he hadn’t tried again.

Tonight, if he gave her a card she’d take it back with her.

“Natalie,” he said as they walked along the rain-slicked sidewalk.

“Rogers,” she offered and he paused. “Natalie Rogers.”

His smile spread. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Rogers,” he said, lifting her hand and kissing it. “I’m…”

She pressed two fingers to his lips. “Save it for next weekend, but I’d like to invite you to supper with me on Wednesday. I’d like for you to meet Mary.”

That would be the true final test.

As she let her fingers drift away, he nodded solemnly. “I would truly enjoy that.” Releasing her, he pulled out a card and held it up. “I’ve been trying to sneak this into your pocket so you’d have a way to reach me, but I thought I’d be more direct since you haven’t called.”

“I didn’t see it…” She lied as he set the card in her hand, but she didn’t look at it. “It has your last name on it, doesn’t it.”

He frowned, then retrieved the card and ripped it carefully then set it back in her palm. “There you go. Last name removed.”

Laughing softly, she closed her fingers around it. “I’ll call you on Tuesday and give you the address. Is there anything you don’t like to eat?”

“Why don’t I bring dinner over? Keep it simpler for you.”

“I like to cook,” she admitted. “It’s been a while since I had anyone but Mary to cook for.”

“Mary,” he said softly. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“For a beautiful little girl.”

When his gaze fixed on her lips briefly, she didn’t move away. The first brush of his kiss firmed her resolve. At least she genuinely liked him and she hesitated a beat. Then he gradually increased the pressure as she stepped into him. The kiss deepened briefly, but she flattened her hands to his chest and he lifted his head.

“Wednesday.”

“Wednesday,” she confirmed. “I’ll call you on Tuesday.”

“If I don’t hear from you?”

“You’ll hear from me,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Another kiss and he released her, then whistled for a cab. “I almost hate to say good night.”

“Then just au revoir,” she murmured and he gave her a delighted look.

“You speak French?”

“ _ Oui _ ,” she said. “And a little Spanish and German.”

“I like that. I speak a couple of languages myself.” Four to be precise, but she let him downplay it.

“Comes in handy.”

“Good night, Will.”

He opened the door for her. “Goodnight, Natalie. I look forward to your call on Tuesday. I’ll be home after six. You have my word.”

“After six.” She held up the card. “I have this.”

“Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t.”

He paid her driver and this time when they pulled away from the curb, she glanced back to find him staring after her almost wistfully.

She had him.

Turning to face forward, she blew out a breath.

She had him.

**Maria**

They crouched in the brush just beyond the compound walls. They’d waited most of the day, the only reprieve from the repressive humidity when it rained on them. The temporary relief had been exactly that, temporary. As soon as the storm passed, they were back to thick, sticky air.

They were waiting for closer to the evening meal when the guards would trickle down to four. Fury had been in a mood since he and Logan returned to their campsite that morning and he hadn’t been in a sharing mood. Now, with the Cajun on point a few yards to her left and the mercenary—because Logan didn’t read soldier to her—had taken up a position a few yards to her right, she and Fury were alone.

Murdock moved amongst the trees working his way around the perimeter. The fact the so-called blind man seemed so adept at moving in a foreign environment wasn’t lost on her. It also wasn’t relevant to the current operation, so she set it aside. One freedom offered by no longer working for SHIELD, she didn’t have to report it or figure out what to do with it.

Checking the compound with her binoculars, she said, “You want to tell me what’s got you brooding?”

“Who said I’m brooding, Hill?”

“I do,” she replied, not glancing at him. “You’ve been in a mood for a while, but whatever you learned this morning has changed something.” They’d worked together for too long. He was brooding.

“Just tired of the past not staying dead and buried.”

“Says the dead man,” she retorted and could almost feel the heat of his glare.

Then he sighed. “Yeah, I suppose you have a point. Ross has been meeting with Brevlov.”

“Oh,” she said slowly. “That is the past coming back to bite you.” Glancing to the side, she caught the distaste in his expression. “You should have listened to her assessment the first time.”

“Hindsight has a clear view, Hill. And you didn’t disagree with the initial assessments either.”

She shrugged. “You had valid points. You also used her as a model for what he could be…only he wasn’t Romanoff.”

“No,” Fury admitted. “He wasn’t. She knew from the word go.”

“She has the experience and she’s got an uncanny bullshit meter—most of the time.” All of the time. It was why as close as she Natasha grew, they never got further than a shallow part-time relationship. A part of her knew, had to have known. Maria shook her head. “Brevlov was a bastard, you just liked that he could get the job done.”

“Sometimes the ends justify the means.”

“No,” Maria said slowly. “They don’t. If anything…I think the last few years have very much proven the ends don’t justify the means. That kind of thinking let Hydra grow inside of SHIELD and let us use her for a guinea pig when we both damn well knew it would be horrible.”

“We also knew she wouldn’t remember it—”

“Nick,” Maria said as she faced him. “I  _ remember _ it and so do you. She screamed for three hours. Passed out. Woke up. Screamed again. Natasha  _ screamed _ .” That had been the first time.

“Hill, I can’t change it. I can only keep going and I’m trying to do right by her now. Deal with Ross. Then find Brevlov and figure out what the hell he’s been up to and why Molot Baga’s name is floating around…”

“What?” That name sent ice through her.

“Logan mentioned him.”

Baga. “I thought he was dead.”

“Now you know why I’m wishing the dead would damn well stay there,” Nick said with a scowl. “Soon as we’re done here, I’m on Brevlov’s trail. I need you to find Baga.”

“I don’t work for you anymore.” It might take him a few years to get that through his head, but she was sticking with the plan she had right now.

“Then tell Stark about Baga, I guarantee you, he’s going to want you to find him before that guy surfaces again. If he does, he’s going to do what he did before—go straight for her.”

“You’re an asshole,” she stated before lifting the binoculars.

“But I’m not wrong.”

He wasn’t. Molot Baga had gone for Natasha before. He’d been relentless in his pursuit of bringing the Black Widow back to Russia where she belonged. Maria thought he was dead. Barton had been there, but it was Natasha who killed him.

“We really don’t need that problem right now.”

They didn’t. Wherever Stark and the others had taken Natasha, they better keep her off the grid. The fact the Avengers likely surrounded her at the moment was enough to keep her focused on this mission.

“First, we deal with Ross,” Fury said.

Soon as Natasha was better, she was reading her and Barton both in on a few facts. The time for secrets was long since passed.

Fury moved away after tapping her shoulder once. The snap of a twig alerted her to Murdock’s return.

“Tell me about Molot Baga and Brevlov.”

It didn’t sound like a request.

Maria slanted a look at him. “Why should I?”

“Because I’m on her side…”

“Maybe after,” she said, putting the binoculars back up to her eyes.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

He could look forward to whatever he wanted. The guards were beginning to thin out.

She tapped the comm unit in her ear. “Comm check,” she said quietly.

“Are we there yet?” Remy asked. “Because if I wanted to be bored, hot, and sweaty, I could have stayed home.”

“Get ready to move, Swamp Rat, you’ll have plenty of entertainment,” Logan said. “Remy, take out the guards on the south and eastern walls. Hill, you’ve got north and western. Fury and I are going for the staff and guards eating dinner. Murdock, you go straight for Ross.”

“That’s not the plan,” Fury said.

“No, that’s not your plan,” Logan corrected. “It is mine. Let’s just say that I’d rather he was in our custody and not yours. We all have questions. Murdock’s a lawyer, he’s not going to kill him right off the bat.”

Maria glanced at the man in question and as if he could feel her gaze, he shrugged. “Depends on his mood. But I can at least advise him that he has no rights here.”

“We’re not arresting him,” Maria stated. “We don’t have the authority.”

“Your mission Murdock,” Remy intoned in a mock deep voice, “should you choose to accept it is to capture the secretary in the library with the wrench. As always, should you or any of the ragtag group of misfits you’re hanging out with be caught or killed, we’ll disavow any knowledge of your actions.”

“Please tell me the Swamp Rat will self-destruct in ten seconds,” Logan finished and Maria chuckled.

They were insane but amusing. “Do I want to know where you three met?”

“Boo,” Remy answered cheerfully. “Can we please go beat up some people now?”

“Wait for it,” Nick all but growled. His patience had apparently reached an end and for some reason that just amused Maria more.

Muting the comm unit, she checked with Murdock. “You can handle bagging Ross?”

“I’ll be fine,” Murdock assured her. “You take care of the guard positions and don’t let them get a call out.”

“Not a problem,” she stated and switched out the binoculars for a rifle she had to assemble. “Just make sure you get Ross or this whole trip will be for nothing.”

“I don’t know—we met you.” Then Murdock melted back into the trees before she could respond. Gun set, she slung it over her back and climbed. Once she was in position, she braced herself between two branches and checked her site.

Turning the comm back on, she said, “Set.”

“Set,” Murdock murmured.

“Set,” Logan answered with Fury a heartbeat behind. The only one who didn’t answer was Remy.

“Knock knock!” Remy called, then a wall on the far side exploded.

Logan swore and Maria sighted the first guard on the Eastern wall and fired. The rifle used icers, so he dropped swiftly. Logan was already over the wall and moving. They were all moving and she half-tracked them in her periphery as she sighted the next guard.

Another explosion sent a plume of dust and debris up into the air. Remy was not subtle.

“You do know one of you is supposed to say who’s there?” The Cajun chastised them. He took down another guard easily, the moves swift and efficient. She picked off the one approaching at his six.

Pivoting, Remy seemed to look right at her and he winked.

“Aww, you like me!”

She rolled her eyes but kept her focus on the courtyard.

“So…”

Grunts sounded over the comms.

“…how you doing? Come here often?”

“Are you ever serious?” she asked.

“Not if I can help it.”

And in spite of herself, she grinned. 

**Bucky**

“Hey man,” Clint said as he took the seat next to him. The lab area was quiet and the lights had been turned down. Strange had gone to get something to eat and a shower. The man had hardly left in the last few days, but even he required a break and Bucky couldn’t begrudge him the time.

Steve and Tony were both supposed to be sleeping. Clint had insisted they head back to the suite where they could eat and shower after, then when they returned, he would likely start in on Bucky.

Holding out an oversized mug of coffee, Clint said, “You hungry at all?”

“Not really,” Bucky admitted. The aches from the beating he and Steve had given each other still twinged. The split skin on the knuckles of his right hand had mostly healed, but he could still feel the bruises along his back where Steve got in the kidney shots. Another day or so, and those would fade.

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna suggest a couple of the protein bars anyway. They taste like ass but they have the stuff you need to get by on.”

Bucky snorted. “They used to give me a feeding tube and have me drink liquid protein. I don’t really care what it tastes like.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to live that way anymore,” Clint reminded him even as he held out the bars.

After downing a mouthful of coffee, Bucky took the bars and began to unwrap them. They were tasteless and he ate them as methodically as he would strip a weapon.

“You need to talk?”

He finished the first bar and washed it down with coffee before he said, “Not particularly. Wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“How’d it go at the cabin?”

The question tugged at him. Fuck. A few days earlier, they’d just been wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world an afterthought as she dug through the scars in her memory searching for a connection. They’d found it, but the whole time, he’d been soaked in memories of their life there. It had been so much more real again. Being there with Natalia.

“Good,” he said slowly, then coughed to clear the catch in his throat. “Different. Painful. And yet… it felt good to be there with her.”

“Better than you hoped?”

It wasn’t an unfair question. They’d talked about it when he first confessed about Mary Elizabeth and then again on the drive up there.

“Better. Worse.” Bucky lifted his gaze toward the cryotube. Some of the distance the Soldier gave him had faded. Neither of them wanted to be anywhere else. It didn’t matter what Bruce Banner wanted or if someone signed some paperwork tying Natalia to Tony, none of that mattered. What mattered was he was here where she was. “She was hurting…there is so much grief locked inside of her.”

“I know,” Clint said softly.

“And at the same time, she wanted to know everything. Every memory we could wring free. We’re different people but we’re the same. It’s hard to explain.” He didn’t want to talk about it in more than vague terms.

“Makes sense. She’s—” her best friend hesitated as he glanced at the tube. He didn’t look at it near as much as Bucky and Steve did. Maybe it was easier if Clint didn’t stare at her still face. “She’s a different person from the one I brought in. Laura and I were talking about that… about what she was like the first time I brought her to the farm. How she changed. I was right there… I saw it and I didn’t. Sometimes it would creep out and surprise me. Other times…I saw it as it happened. The day she truly trusted me, I knew that. The day she realized I cared… that anyone cared.”

He let out a little snort.

“It’s strange, I look at the two of you now and I can almost imagine what it was like before for you guys—or maybe I can’t.” Clint shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, the point is… I see what she was missing. I see why those holes were there, why she held herself at a distance from other people.”

“Grief,” Bucky said slowly. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together. “I’m a lucky fucking bastard in all of this. When I lost her—they obliterated her from my mind. Yeah, I knew something was missing but I was never out long enough to feel the pain of it and the day it all came back…”

She’d been right there—even before it all rushed in to fill in the crevices.

“I had that couple of years between Hydra falling and then seeing her again a few months ago… I knew something was gone but everything was a jumble. The most painful loss was drowned out by all the other noise.” The gaping wound closed badly, needing desperately to be torn open and lanced to let out all the damaged tissue and infection. But it was an ache he could live with.

In Louisiana, when the memories swamped him, when it was all right there in his grasp, he’d rolled out of bed and stalked into the living room and she’d been right fucking there. The other half of his soul and right there where he could touch her, hold her, and love her. Oh and the ache of that loss had been so fresh and so fucking present.

How the hell would he have managed for the  _ years _ she’d had to endure? Slicing out her own heart to survive it. Yet even as she endured, the loss never diminished. It had been a pain she lived with day in and day out until the day she decided to let Clint kill her.

“Pain can be compartmentalized,” Clint said quietly.

“I fucking hate those words.” The vehemence came up from his gut, a violent bubbling burn.

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Me too. Eat the other bar.”

Mechanically, Bucky stripped it out of the packaging and ate it, washing down the dry, tasteless stuff with more coffee.

“I don’t know how she did it,” he admitted quietly. “How the hell she kept putting one foot in front of the other.” When the Mandarin had her, he’d been on edge, focused on the only things he could control—looking after the family she’d built and done his best to keep Tony together along with Steve so they could find her.

Until he saw a body, he’d never believe she was dead or lost to him forever.

_ “Easy isn’t going to make this happen for us.” He backed off a step and raked a hand through his hair. “So fine, you want to know what I want? I should want back the life they took from me, but I’m not going to get it. Truthfully, I don’t really want it. I’d never have met you in that life. So, I want Natalia Romanova again, I want that woman back and maybe I won’t get her either.” His gaze fixed on her “And that’s okay too because I’m not Bucky Barnes anymore and maybe you can’t be her… but a long time ago, Natalia Romanova made me remember what it was to feel human. They punished us both for that…they punished us, Natalia. But you and I, we’re still here. We can still make this count. So whether you’re Natalia or Natasha or someone else—that’s what I want.” _

Yet staring at her in that tube, he had her and he couldn’t reach her. Once, a very long time ago, he’d been deployed with her for a mission. He’d been in cryo for a couple of years maybe when they woke him. Natalia had been right there, quiet and patient as he got his bearings. It had taken more than a couple of days to rouse from the half-stupor locking his brain in shackles of icy sleep.

But when he had, she’d been sitting on a table in a hotel room, legs crossed and her focus wholly on the papers in her hand.

_“Natalia,”_ _he murmured and her head snapped up._

_ The relief in her eyes slayed him as she all but launched off the table and then she had her arms around him and her mouth fused to his. The next couple of hours passed in a haze of hurried, almost desperate touches and nearly unquenchable hunger. Only after they were spent and she sprawled atop him did he gather her hair into his fist to nudge her head up so he could look at her properly. _

_ The tears shimmering in her eyes filled him with dread. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” _

_ “No, but two years zvezda moya, two years they kept you this time and I knew where—when I needed to I could go see you but you were so still and so cold.” The admission had angered him at the time. _

_ “Never go to look, kotyonok. Do you understand? Do not look if it hurts you.” _

_ She’d punched him. _

_ The blow hurt far more than he’d let on. “Don’t you dare tell me to stay away. You sleep in that frozen ice, but I am here—awake and waiting. I have to wait, how can I stay away?” _

_ “Because the fact you endure lets me survive that ice,” he whispered, his voice half-raw but nowhere near as raw as his heart. “You must always endure, Natalia. Do you understand? As long as you live then so shall I.” _

_ _

“Bucky…” Clint’s voice dragged him from the past and he pulled his gaze from her still features to find the man’s sympathetic gaze on him. “Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say? That I am dying a little bit each day she is in that thing? That I want to kill Bruce Banner, Thaddeus Ross, and every single survivor of that bloody massacre in Los Angeles—anyone who had anything to do with her ending up there? That a part of me wants to hunt down and wring the life from every person who has ever hurt her? That I’ve never wanted to punch a dame as much as I had Maria until Pepper said she’d made this decision to marry Natalia off without so much as a by your leave? That if she doesn’t wake up herself…it’s going to kill me?” He clenched his fists.

“Well,” Clint said slowly. “That’s a start.”

Snorting, Bucky shook his head. “My pain is mine, it sustains me right now. She endured for me. It was all I ever asked…that she keeps on living. She waited for me even when she didn’t know what she waited for and when I woke—finally—when I was me again, she was right there. She was in my reach, my arms, and my life. I can do no less for her, so right here is where I stay.”

“Not telling you to go, Man. Really not. Will tell you that you need to sleep. I dug more than a few bullets out of you. Steve had a few of his own. Then you two did a number on each other. You’re still bruises and healing wounds. Those need to be gone when she comes out of that tube.”

If she came out…

“And you need to face who she’ll be when she comes out.”

“She’ll be Natalia,” he said simply. “She’s always been Natalia. Even when she was Natasha, even when they took her memories—Natalia is right there. I  _ know _ her. I’ll always know her.”

Clint exhaled. “I meant when she remembers… it’s going to hurt.” The quiet words pulled him away from the edge and Bucky swung his gaze to study Clint. The solemnity in his eyes silenced his kneejerk responses. “One of the things she’s been coping with—is grief. It was forty years ago and you’ve both been grieving in your own ways. You because you could remember her and Nat because she couldn’t. But if all this— _ Star Trek _ -level holodeck shit works, the Nat who wakes up is going to very much be the mother who gave up her child. Who walked away and went to get you back. It’s going to be fresh and right there, time and distance aren’t going to mean a damn thing and then there’s all those memories… the ones you didn’t want her to have to experience again.”

Bucky sighed. The abuse. The hurt. The deception. The cruelty. No, he never wanted her to remember those.

“I’m not trying to be an ass,” Clint told him. “I’m worried about both of you. Don’t get me wrong—I feel for Steve. Fuck, I even feel bad for Tony at the moment. But you and Nat? This is decades of shit coming right back down on both of you and she’s going to need you, maybe more than she’s ever needed you before.”

“Natalia is a survivor,” he said quietly. “Though after this, she may want nothing to do with me, Clint. You were her lifeline as much as I loathe admitting it. Tony is her friend and Steve—Stevie doesn’t have all this baggage.”

A hand came down on his shoulder and Clint gripped him. “Man, that’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. Nat  _ loves _ you and has for longer than most of us have been alive. Don’t short either of yourselves, but you gotta let yourself feel that grief because she has to get through it to the other side.”

“If I give in to it, Clint,” Bucky admitted. “The Soldier is right there, has been since the moment she went down. We want nothing more than to get her away from all of this and disappear. I haven’t even shown her the damn house.” He let out a wet laugh. “I told Tony cause I needed his help getting it fully funded and secured… but I haven’t told her or Stevie.”

Blinking back the wetness, he swallowed the painful lump in his throat.

“Well, I’m thinking you guys are going to need a place to get away—when she’s better. Might be a good time to escape for some privacy, your own burrow.”

“She wants to keep the cabin,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “To go back and fix it up.”

“Might want to wait for spring for that.” No judgment just an easy tone. “Maybe think about what you want to do, what supplies you’ll need. We can fly most of it in. Fix up the generator, replace any wiring or pipes. Get a good look at the land without ten feet of snow around it.”

Bucky let out a wet laugh and swiped at the dampness on his face. “It’s not ten feet. It’s barely three.”

“Right,” Clint said slowly. “I forgot, you Russians think us Americans are weak.”

“I’m not Russian,” Bucky reminded him.

“You sure about that?” The question pulled his attention.

“You’re half and half, I think.”

The Soldier was Russian, but Bucky? “I’m whatever she needs me to be. And I know all about winter and moving in heavy snow with and without the luxuries of today.”

“Luxuries, like real heat instead of having to chop your own wood to get a fire going?” The droll comment pulled a smirk from him.

“Fireplaces are great, wrapping yourself around your woman is even better. Go home, give it a shot some time.”

“Yeah, bite me. We’re working on that.”

“Good,” Bucky said slowly. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“So was Nat,” Clint admitted. “Laura’s been great, through all of this.”

“Talking helps,” Bucky reminded him. “Even when you don’t have the answers, talking helps.”

“You don’t say?”

At the droll question, Bucky glanced at him. “Yes, I know you’re handling me.”

“I know you know. I also know you haven’t ever decked me, though you’ve definitely considered it.”

“You’ve been a good friend to her—you were what I couldn’t be and when she needed someone, you gave her a home. You saved her life. So no, I’m never going to dislocate your jaw even if I do think about it periodically.”

“See,” Clint told him, grinning a little. “We call that progress.”

“Is that what we call it?” He raised his brows. “Good to know.”

“She’s going to be all right,” Clint said. “Then we’re going to find the last of these bastards giving her hell, she’ll know their names, she’ll know all the things that were taken from her… and we’ll find your daughter.”

Neither of them said whether she was alive or dead or wanted to even be found.

“I’ve already lost Mary,” Bucky said slowly, the words tasting like ash on his tongue. “I can’t lose Natalia.”

“Not losing her, Man. I mean look…” He motioned to the cloak which stood in the shadow of the tube, just waiting. “She’s got an AI, a magical cloak, a wizard, a billionaire genius, a super-powered kid, two super soldiers, a witch, and arguably one of the cutest and youngest brilliant minds I’ve ever met on her side while she’s receiving the best care ever from a damn near mythical nation.”

“She’s exceptional.”

“And we’re  _ all _ here for her.”

Yes, they were.

“Thank you for sparing her life,” Bucky said abruptly. “Thank you for saving it.”

“Never have to thank me for that,” Clint said slowly. “Nat’s family. She was my family long before I ever met her. Maybe in some past life, I was supposed to have been her brother. You never know.”

“We’ve had a lot of past lives.” Her more than most.

“So, my theory holds. I’m just glad she lived long enough for me to find her.”

“Me, too.”

“So,” Clint said after a few minutes. “I’ve been meaning to ask…”

Bucky raised his brows.

“What are the best embarrassing stories you know about her?”

He stared for a long moment as the other man met his gaze steadily, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Depends…”

“On?”

“What ones do you know?” Bucky challenged him.

“Well,” Clint considered as he leaned back in his seat. “We could be here a while.”

“You talk. I’ll think about it.”

“Doable—but you only get one until I get one.”

“Acceptable.”

Then Clint began to talk about Natalia’s first experience with laser tag and how they got banned.

Bucky ended up crying again, only this time from laughter.

His poor Natalia. That was hilarious. 

**Peter**

The sun was up when he wandered out of his room. The sitting room area was empty and he bit back a bit of disappointment that Wanda wasn’t out there. Heat crawled up his neck and his stomach did a little flip. He’d kissed her.

Even better, she’d kissed him back.

Then she’d levitated all the furniture.

Running a hand through his damp hair, he went to investigate the fridge for more food. Considering he’d pretty much cleaned out the leftovers after they’d fixed the furniture and cleaned up the plates—there wasn’t much.

Wanda had kissed him again before she’d said good night. His heart did a little fist bump with his ribs.

A part of him was dying to tell someone—but the someone he wanted to tell he couldn’t. The rest of him wanted to keep it a secret.

When the door to Wanda’s room opened, he spun and grinned. She gave him a sleepy smile as she made her way toward the kitchen.

“Hey,” he whispered. Why? He wasn’t sure. But he also wasn’t sure if any of the other guys were back and sleeping.

“Morning—I think. Or is it afternoon?” She shot a puzzled look at the windows. “I didn’t look and my body clock is messed up.”

So was his. “It’s our morning,” he said. “That counts.”

“Sounds good to me.” She paused and they kind of stared at each other. Was he supposed to kiss her morning? Natasha did that with Bucky and Steve. But… His stomach twisted as he wrestled with the answer to that question.

Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss to her cheek and she caught his arm as he would have backed away.

“Peter…”

Oh. Crap.

His heart fell.

“Oh, it’s nothing that terrible, don’t…” She squeezed his arm. His heart pounded so loudly he swore it had to be audible to more than just him. “Really, it’s not,” she whispered, the wonderful accent of hers giving the words a depth and warmth he wanted to lean into.

“No?”

“No, I promise. I was—I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do but, I liked your morning and I wanted to do this.” She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Instead of withdrawing, she held there for a moment then pressed her palm to his other cheek before she dropped to her feet.

“Oh.” Heat swirled through him and he grinned. “Okay.”

Wanda chuckled. “I’m a little nervous, too.”

“I’m younger than you are,” he blurted out.

“That’s part of it,” she admitted. “But you’re sweet and you’re smart…”

“So are you,” he argued. “And you’re really pretty and you’re funny.”

Drawing back a little, she raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think I’m that funny.”

“You always make me smile,” he admitted and her own grin grew. “I mean I know that sounds dorky but…”

“Not dorky. Not even a little.” She bit her lower lip, then glanced around the suite. “Tony and Steve are sleeping, but it’s restless.”

How did she…? Oh. Right.

She could read minds.

Oh. Hell. Had she read his mind last night?

Wanda glanced at him again, but if she’d heard his thoughts she didn’t reveal it in her expression. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” he admitted.

Holding out her hand, she said, “Me too. Want to go on an adventure with me? We’ll find food—maybe talk and then we can go see Natasha together?”

He’d love that. “Yes.”

When he threaded his fingers with hers, she gave his hand a squeeze and Peter’s pulse rabbited before he forced himself to take a deep breath. Elation skated through him.

As they made their way to the doors, he asked, “You have a favorite place here?” Because he hadn’t really seen Wakanda yet.

“I do,” she said. “Want to see it?”

“Absolutely—right after breakfast.”

“Deal.”

Guilt stabbed at the bubble of happiness. He was supposed to be worrying about Natasha, not having fun and then Wanda smiled at him and he was elated all over again.

“Do you like waterfalls?” she asked as they headed out and found one of the guards to give them an escort.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen one up close,” he confessed.

“Well, we should fix that.”

“Awesome,” he exhaled. Not that he really cared where they went at the moment, as long as they went together.

  
  
  



	68. Penitence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past unravels more for Natasha as she confronts hidden memories

**Chapter Sixty-Eight**

_ Penitence _

**Natasha**

_ 2002 _

The two SHIELD agents escorting her remained in the waiting room when the door opened. The doctor inviting her inside had foregone the white coat after their first meeting. She hated those white jackets. They certainly didn’t invite confidence. She only had to endure the next one hundred and twenty minutes. After, Clint had promised to take her to the range. Most of her escorts didn’t want to let her have range time, the only two whoever took her there were Clint and Coulson.

“Good morning, Ms. Romanova,” Dr. Richardson said as she stepped inside and shifted her stance to keep him in front of her. No matter how often Clint reassured her that psych was a requirement of her deal, she couldn’t escape the initial distrust she had for the doctor—any doctor really.

“Romanoff,” she reminded him. The name she’d chosen when she came to SHIELD. Not Natalia Romanova. No more. Natalia died nearly two decades before. She was Natasha now. Some might call it a minuscule change, but she would define herself by her own rules.

New life.

New start.

New name.

“Of course, Ms. Romanoff. My apologies. May I call you Natasha?” Every time, he started the meeting exactly the same way.

“No,” she answered. The dance between them never varying in its steps.

He nodded, then motioned to the chairs. His office had a desk with a pair of chairs in front of it and a carefully arranged seating area with a sofa, and a pair of armchairs. She chose the armchair farthest from the window that also gave her a clear view of the door and the doctor.

Currently, she was allowed no weapons. That was fine. There were plenty of objects in the room she could weaponize from the ugly wooden sculpture on his desk to the cup of pens, to the veritable treasure trove of books on the shelves along his wall. Not that she’d need them, the doctor wasn’t that fit. He, like her, was also unarmed. Initially, they’d insisted a guard accompany her inside to the meetings, the one and only thing Richardson had done that she respected was he ordered the guards out.

Sessions, he insisted, needed to be handled with privacy and she had a right to doctor-patient confidentiality. A day later, Fury appeared in her cell with a request form that she signed allowing monitoring of these sessions. Clint argued against it, finally compromising at six months of monitoring then they took them out.

The last of the listening devices had been removed two weeks earlier. She had been invited to watch. A show of trust, or so Clint insisted, trust she’d earned. Just like the missions, she’d begun to run with him, were about building trust. The dirty blond waited until she was seated before taking up residence in the armchair opposite her. He had a legal pad on the arm of the chair and a pen, though he touched neither.

Instead, he folded his hands together and studied her. “How are you today?”

“I’m fine.” It was a rote question and answer.

“Just fine?” He tilted his head. Pale brown eyes, so pale they seemed almost yellow in the light regarded her. Out of habit, she catalogued his features, his demeanor, and the timbre of his voice. The psychologist was fond of lulling games. Each session began with a careful get to know you as though he needed to take her temperature. It had taken her all of one meeting to realize what he wanted were small displays of humanity.

“Yes,” she said, giving him nothing to work with. Just because she understood how the game was played didn’t mean she wanted to play it. The man wanted to get inside her head and she’d agreed to a great deal with SHIELD—being taken apart again was not one item she would ever agree to. However, she could mirror his behavior for him, it was what he wanted to see. “How are you?”

“I’m very well,” he said, a hint of a smile curved his lips and deepened the lines in his cheeks. Despite his demeanor, he was pale and sported a stubbly jaw at ten in the morning. He never wore a tie and though he often had a suit jacket on, his shirts weren’t pressed or fastidious.

Either he didn’t give a damn about his appearance or wanted to give her the impression he didn’t care.

Both were equally possible. The fact his light brown hair hung over his ears and hung long against his neck also separated him from the more military cut of SHIELD agents and security ops she saw most often. Then again, he wasn’t any kind of agent.

“Thank you for asking, Ms. Romanoff. Are you comfortable with me calling you Natasha?”

“No,” she said, crossing one leg over the other. She had her hands folded one atop the other on her thigh, chin lifted and her gaze on him.

“All right,” he said. “You call the shots on that one. So, tell me what you’ve done this week.”

“Drills. Range practice. Law course. Citizenship test. Computer assembly.”

He was writing those down but paused on the last. “Computer assembly?”

“I took two machines apart to remove the monitoring equipment,” she said. “Then I put them back together.”

He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed before writing something else down. “Was that part of a mission?”

“No,” she answered. Clint had not been thrilled when he found her separating out each part and going over them. It had taken him weeks to persuade the powers that be to give her limited access to the Internet and she shredded the machines. They weren’t shredded, she’d pointed out. They were simply easier to examine in chunks.

She also handed him four different monitoring devices and a microchip the machine did not need which told her it was likely some kind of keystroke logger.

With a word, he’d crushed every single piece. Then glanced at the equipment and told her to get a move on putting them back together—he’d scored her recreation time. Recreation time turned out to be a movie room where they watched _ Robin Hood, Men in Tights. _

Sometimes, she didn’t think she’d ever get Americans, no matter how long she lived among them.

“All right. What challenges have we faced this week?”

“Well, I’m looking at you.”

“I am well aware of your opinion of these sessions, Ms. Romanoff. What _ other _ challenges are we facing? Missions? You just completed one, I believe, with Agent Barton?”

She did not roll her eyes. That didn’t count as a mission. It had been a bag and grab. They’d been in and out in under four hours. There hadn’t even been so much as a punch thrown beyond the one she delivered to the target to shut him up.

Still, these were the things they wanted to hear and she’d been told that she could share all details with the psychologist. He was cleared.

The next ninety minutes dragged on as they went over the mission, looked at from all angles—there really weren’t that many—then discussed goal setting and positive reinforcement. At the end, he said, “I think you’ve made some significant progress and I’m pleased to see that’s continued. Close your eyes and we can work on those relaxation meditations.”

At her bland look, Dr. Richardson smiled.

“I know, you think they are a waste of time.”

“I think I am calm,” she told him evenly. “I don’t see the point of an exercise to achieve something I already have.”

“But do you have it? Or are you so trained to ignore your own needs that you simply repress them?” He leaned forward, his eyes challenging. “You’ve arguably faced severe traumas in your short life. You were trained to be an assassin from a young age. You participated in what most would define as horrible events. In the due course of following orders, you’ve killed many people. Chances are, your work here will require you also kill more. No one is just _ fine _ with that.”

“Sociopaths would be,” she offered. “Arguably so would a psychopath. In the due course of war, many people die. Soldiers kill all the time.”

“But you’re not a soldier,” the psychologist reminded her. “So, cooperate, please. We’ll make this as painless as possible.”

She’d heard that before.

Apparently, her unwillingness to participate in the so-called relaxation exercise had an effect. “Alright, let’s try word association, shall we?”

“If you insist…”

“I do,” he said. Picking up his pad, he flipped to a back page. “Russian is your native language, yes?”

“Yes.”

“You speak multiple languages?”

She nodded.

“Do you find that words have the same import whether you say them in Russian or English?”

“Words are words,” she commented. “Intent is often as important as the word itself.”

“Well let’s try it in English then, shall we?”

She nodded. Anything to get this over and done with.

“Longing,” he stated.

“Hunger.”

“Rusted.”

“Failure.”

“Furnace.”

“Heat.”

“Daybreak,” he continued, leaning forward and she met his gaze passively.

“Sunrise…”

“Seventeen.”

“Age.”

“Benign.”

“Harmless.”

“Nine.”

“Planets.”

“Homecoming.”

“None.”

“One.”

“Gone.”

“Freight car.”

She frowned. “That’s two words.”

He sighed. “Of course, it is. Let’s try it in Russian, shall we?”

With a glance at the clock on the wall, she nodded without sighing.

Her answers didn’t vary, there was a twinge or two on the words. 

The doctor took more notes and then studied her. “Did you have any reactions to any of the words?”

“No…” Then because he looked so disappointed she said, “Daybreak.”

“What about daybreak?”

“It’s sunrise. I like sunrises.”

The answer didn’t seem to be the one he was looking for and he couldn’t quite contain his crestfallen expression. “Thank you, Ms. Romanoff. I believe that concludes our time…”

She was already on her feet.

“I will see you on Friday at nine promptly. Ops will inform me if you are on a mission.”

Waving him off, she was out the door to where her watchdogs would be waiting but they were gone and Clint was slung back in the chair, half-asleep.

“Gawd, are all the appointments that long?”

“Try being in there when they’re happening,” she informed him.

Unfolding himself from the chair, he gave a discreet shudder. “No thank you.” Then he brightened. “Ready to go shoot some things?”

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask.”

“C’mon, Kid, you know I take you to all the glamorous places.” He slung an arm around her shoulders and she tolerated it for five steps before she shrugged him off. He always let the arm drop away.

“You shouldn’t call me Kid,” she reminded him again. “I’m not a child.”

“Your records say ’84, _ Kid,” _he reiterated. She rolled her eyes. “Be good or I won’t buy your booze for you.”

Her snort earned another grin and then his expression smoothed over much as hers did as they strode through the halls of the Triskelion. She always got a lot of looks when they were on the move and she ignored all of them. 

A third person joined them, his suit neatly pressed and his manner as calm as Fury’s could be turbulent. “Barton. Romanoff.”

“Sir,” Clint said. “We’re on the way to the range for some much-needed stress relief. We are not the agents’ you’re looking for.” The last he added with a wave of his hand.

“Unfortunately, I am not susceptible to your Jedi mind tricks,” Agent Coulson informed him. “And I need both of you. I have some live targets you can work your stress out on.”

Clint slanted a look at her and raised his brows. Was she ready?

One nod.

“All righty then,” Clint said. “Where are we going?”

“Budapest.”

_ 2004 _

“What the hell are you doing?” Clint demanded over the comm.

“Getting the target,” she stated as she raced along the catwalk. “In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s getting away.”

“Nat… dammit. I don’t have a shot.”

“I’ve got it.” She locked the grappling hook to the railing as she dove off it. The wire gave her a hundred feet of slack if she needed it but she only needed to drop five stories to the floor of the opera house. One of the guards broke her landing nicely. She cut the cord even as she rolled off of him and hit the second guard. Armlock, climb, twist and down he went as she rebounded up to catch the downward swing of guard number three, she disarmed him, turned the gun and slapped him across the face with it before hitting him in the throat. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

She shot the last two, leaving her alone with Professor Arturo Cardoza. “Professor Cardoza, I’m with SHIELD. If you’ll come with me.”

The man gaped at her.

“Quickly now.” She beckoned with a curl of her fingers and he stepped over the downed men to join her. “We’ll be exiting through the east doors.”

“On it,” Clint said over the comm. “And you and me, Kid, we’re having a long talk with this is over.”

“Hmm-hmm.” By talk, he meant he would yell, she would nod and then they would be back to business as usual.

“I cannot believe you got here. I did not think you would make it in time,” the professor said. “They were waiting for me.”

“Just stay with me, Professor, and we’ll get you out of here.” She guided him through the opera house, careful to stick to the side halls and clearing eye lines before she moved to another hall.

“SHIELD must think me very valuable to send a top agent…not everyone gets the Black Widow.” Subtly his accent changed and Natasha was already moving before the needle could strike.

“Shit,” Clint swore over the comm. “Nat, where are you?”

“Little busy.” She blocked the next strike and wrenched his wrist until the syringe fell from his nerveless hand. Twisting, she caught sight of black-clothed soldiers surging into the hallway. “Make that very busy. Twelve—maybe fifteen. Full unit.”

Clint’s cursing was audible, but she blocked it out and went to work. They’d waited until she was in a narrow hallway with almost no room to maneuver. So she went up, using their own numbers against them. Blows landed against her side and she took more than one to the head, but she had four down and managed to kick a fifth in the face even as the garrote slipped around her neck. Arm up she blocked it from being able to close and collapsed into her attacker.

It knocked him off balance and she dropped which pulled his center of gravity over. Hitching one arm around his leg, she bent his knee and took him down. The tension on the garrote broke. A kick slammed into her ribs, and she rolled with the momentum.

A second kick slammed into her kidneys, but she kept going, tangling herself around the guy’s legs and jamming an elbow into the soft tissue behind his knee. He let out a shout as she wrenched the knee with a sickening pop. When another seized her by her vest and hauled her up, she got her legs up and around his neck and wrenched them both over and then was on her feet.

Seven down.

Eight to go.

Two arrows whizzed past her head in rapid succession. One so close the whistle of air moved her hair. The two closest to her went down. She surged forward, climbing the target in front of her. Foot to his knee as she brought her own knee up to his jaw. As he went down she rolled over him and slid right between the legs of the next guy.

The thunk of the arrow hitting him let her keep moving as she got to the next guy. It was all whirling motion. Kick, slam, twist, and down. Then all the targets were down. Blood stung the corner of her eye as she turned and met Clint’s dark gaze. The _ professor _ was at his feet, whimpering and sporting a pair of zip-ties around his wounded wrist. Probably hurt like a bitch.

“We still bringing the target in?” Clint asked and she didn’t respond. He wasn’t asking her anyway. Instead, she cleared the fallen. Most of them were dead. The ones who weren’t—well, two of them were bleeding out, but she zip-tied them before she dropped compression packs on their wounds. Personally, she’d put a bullet in each of them, but SHIELD frowned on shooting prisoners.

Easier on the transport, but no one asked her.

“Not sure, sir. But they were here for Nat in force. This looked like a bag and tag operation to bring down the Black Widow.”

The last one dealt with, she began emptying their pockets. Most had no ID. That would be standard. She had no I.D. on her either.

“Fifteen,” Clint said. “Four for the bus, eleven for the morgue.”

A wheezing gasp cut through the quiet and Nat glanced over at Clint.

“Three for the bus, twelve for the morgue.” He shrugged. “Right. We’ll bring the target with us and leave you the cleanup.”

She rolled up the sleeves on one of the first ones she had taken down. The Cyrillic lettering on his tattoos was familiar.

Though she suspected, it was better to confirm.

And they still had the professor to question.

An hour later, she endured Clint checking her ribs and the pair of stitches he insisted on adding to the slice along her scalp. She was mottled black and blue. It would all heal. The professor was currently answering all of Coulson’s questions. Including the fact that he’d traded the opportunity to bring her back to Russia for his freedom from the program.

His failure made him a marked man and he was more than willing to tell SHIELD everything if they would protect him.

“So—feel like grabbing a beer?” Clint offered.

“No,” she said as he finished and she pulled on a jacket. Moving slow seemed to be prudent. “Going to go get some sleep.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you really going back to your place to sleep?”

“I’m going to get some sleep. I’m tired, Clint.” She patted him on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m out tomorrow,” he reminded her.

“Oh, vacation.” She grunted like she’d just remembered. “See you next week then.”

“Nat…” He’d followed her into the hallway. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

She smiled at him. “Hey… it’s me.”

“Yeah, that’s what worries me.”

But he didn’t follow her. Before she could leave the Triskelion though, Richardson summoned her to his office.

While she wasn’t seeing him twice a week anymore and they’d dropped to once a month, he could and did summon her periodically for “pulse checks.”

Clint’s week-long vacation would give her time to track down the gang she’d identified from the tattoo and remind them why they should never accept a contract to hunt her. She took the elevator to Richardson’s floor and entered the waiting room for his office. There was a button she had to press to let him know someone was waiting and then she leaned against the wall. She was one long, bruised ache. An ice bath before she took off would not be amiss and it would take down the swelling.

“One moment Agent Romanoff,” Richardson said over the speaker. “Surviving. Red. Heat. Sunrise. Measure. Order. Three. Welcome. Thirty. Widow.”

The first word didn’t mean anything, but in rapid succession, a headache formed behind her eye and pain stabbed through her. By the last one, she was still, calm, and prepared. The door opened and Richardson stared at her, then frowned as he inspected her.

“Come inside.”

She followed him into the office.

“Condition report.”

“Cracked ribs, contusions, wrenched shoulder. Several lacerations.”

Settling against his desk, he folded his arms. “Mission status?”

“Mission complete. Target acquired. Threats neutralized.”

“Origin of the threats?”

“Recovery team likely dispatched by Russian operatives, KGB or remaining Red Room assets.”

“I thought you destroyed the Red Room.”

“I have destroyed most of it.”

“Where is the target now?”

“Interrogation with Agent Coulson.”

Richardson’s expression tightened. “Is he talking?”

“He is offering everything in exchange for protection.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Richardson rose and picked up his phone. “Yes, sir. No, the operation failed. But they are making power moves. They want their assets returned… Yes, I understand. The professor?” A single nod. “I’ll take care of it.”

After he hung up the phone, he studied her again. “How is your compliance?”

“Compliance will be rewarded.”

“Yes, it will. Can you get to the professor?”

A single nod.

“Eliminate him. Do it cleanly and quietly. Heart attack if you can make it happen. Natural causes. Shut him up. Don’t get caught. Return here immediately when you have completed the mission. If you are unable to return—you may proceed with your day but you must forget this interaction happened. You will only remember that we had a wellness check and you were bored, but passed with flying colors, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Natasha told him. “I understand.”

“Repeat back my commands.”

She repeated the commands.

“Thank you, Widow,” he said. “I wish we had more time to play but this needs to be taken care of.”

After she left his office, she returned to interrogation and brought coffee to both Coulson and the professor. Clint was already gone, so she was available to return the professor to holding when Coulson decided to call a break.

“Then get out of here, Agent Romanoff,” Coulson told her. “Take a couple of days.”

She nodded.

On the way to holding, Agent May nodded to her and glanced from her to the target. “I see someone had fun without me.”

“Next time I’ll make sure you’re invited to the party,” she promised and May chuckled.

“I’ll hold you to that, Romanoff.”

The elevator doors opened and as she stepped inside, she increased the pressure on the professor’s arm. He jerked and gave her a scowl. “You don’t have to hold me so tightly.”

“You didn’t have to inject me with that syringe, either,” she pointed out. When the professor jerked himself away, she let him build some force before she released him. He banged off the wall, cutting himself with the zip-ties. No prisoners, even cooperative ones, traveled between interrogation and holding while free.

She signed him over to the holding guards. They eyed the cuts on his wrists and she shrugged. “He didn’t want to be guided and threw himself at a wall.”

No one commented, nor did she expect them to. Once he was squared away, she headed to the elevator to head back to Richardson’s office. But her phone rang…

Pulling out the flip phone, she eyed Coulson’s ID before answering. “Sir?”

“Natasha, you got the professor squared away?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I hate to ask you this, but I need you for another op.”

“On my way.”

“It’s solo, Barton’s already on leave.”

“No problem.”

“See you in five.”

“It’ll be three.” The elevator paused to let Agent Hill aboard and she nodded to Natasha.

“Nice shiner.”

Natasha shrugged. “I’ve had better.”

Hill chuckled. “I’m sure you have. Coming or going?”

“Was going, now coming. It’s the way.”

“Yeah, I hear that. If you’re around later, want to grab a drink?”

“Probably won’t be,” she advised her. The elevator slowed, letting Maria out.

“Well if you are… look me up.”

Natasha nodded. Then folded her hands behind her back as the elevator carried her three levels higher. The operational nerve center was busy as she walked through it to Coulson’s office. At least she’d gotten her visit with Richardson out of the way, hopefully, it’d be another month before she had to see him.

“Good,” Coulson said as she arrived. Then he frowned. “I am sorry to send you out banged up.”

“It’ll be fun. What do you have for me?”

“Monitoring, mostly, but you may need to intercede.” He laid open a file. “Hopefully it’s no more than a couple of days…”

She didn’t find out about the professor until she finished her op—it took four days not two and it left her enough time to deal with a few gang members. When she reported back to the Triskelion, she found out the professor had some kind of heart attack brought on by a seizure.

Nothing that could be done about it.

Oh well. They would hopefully be able to act on the intel he’d already given them.

_ 2013 _

“Agent Romanoff,” Director Fury greeted her as she exited the quinjet. “So glad you could finally join us.”

He was with the secretary. While none of her reactions showed on her face, she could taste her dislike for Pierce. The man made her skin crawl. “Director. Mr. Secretary.”

She fell into step with them.

“Are the Avengers squared away?”

She nodded once.

“And Captain Rogers?” Secretary Pierce asked. “He’s part of STRIKE Team Delta now, as well, isn’t he?”

“Yes, sir. He’s fine. We completed the latest clean-up and they are taking some r-and-r.”

“Not you?” Pierce glanced at the director. “You sure you’re not abusing our girl, Nick?”

The director chuckled. “Not at all, Agent Romanoff likes to keep busy.”

“Yes, I do.” They were inside now and standing in a conference room on the secretary’s floor.

“Then we’ll make this briefing quick. I need to make some trips overseas for some highly classified and compartmentalized meetings. You’ll be accompanying me as my personal assistant and security. I may also need to use your translation skills.”

“Understood,” Natasha said.

“Just like that,” Pierce said slowly.

“Yes, sir.”

“We leave within the hour, I’m sure Nick needs to tell you how to babysit me and to not let me get ahead of myself, so go get your things and be back here.”

She inclined her head and strode out with the director, happy to be out of Pierce’s office.

Nick said nothing until they were in his office and he’d secured it.

“While you’re on this assignment, everything is classified my eyes only.”

Head tilted, she nodded once. “What about Secretary Pierce?”

“You’re going to do more than just protect him, Natasha, I need you to vet everyone he meets with. I think he’s been getting bad intel, but I don’t know the source. So everything you hear and see, I want it reported to me directly—even if he tells you to compartmentalize, are we clear?”

Technically the secretary outranked the director. “All right.”

“Go get your stuff—and Natasha, keep him alive. Any means necessary, understood?”

“Yes, sir. What about STRIKE Team Delta?”

“Rogers can do without you for a bit, and Omega can take the load for now. And this is for no one’s consumption, not the Avengers, not your cat.”

“I don’t have a cat, sir.”

“That’s not what Barton says.”

“Barton says a lot of stuff, sir. Doesn’t make it true.”

Fury chuckled. “Go on, get out of my office.”

She went for her gear and sent a text to Clint to let him know she’d be off-grid for a while, then a second one to Steve.

**Natasha: ** _ STRIKE Team Delta on stand down for at least the next week. Enjoy the time with the team. _

**Fossil:** _Coming back then?_.

**Natasha:** _Can’t, duty calls. Will check-in when I can. Off-grid until I get back._

**Fossil:** _ Stay safe and call me if you need me. _

**Natasha: ** _ I heard Amanda in accounting likes performance art. You should ask her to take you to a show. _

**Fossil:** _ Can’t, all booked up this week enjoying time with the team. _

She chuckled and stopped by her locker to grab her go bag. At least she’d restocked it prior to heading to New York with Steve. Her phone rang and she knew who it was before she even answered it.

“What do you mean you’re going off-grid?” Tony demanded. “I didn’t tell you that you could disappear on us, Red.”

“I don’t recall asking you, Shellhead. Go tease Steve into the twenty-first century, I’ve got a job to do.”

“Where are you going?”

“Away.”

“I need something more specific than that,” he said, his tone turning cajoling. “How am I supposed to watch your back if I don’t know where you are?”

“I’m capable of watching my own back,” she reminded him. “Orders, Tony.”

“Pfft. I can just hack in and figure it out. You’re going to make me do it, aren’t you?”

“I’ll call when I get back.”

“I’d say I’d follow your phone, but you’re leaving it there, aren’t you?”

She smiled then turned toward the camera on the far wall and held up her middle finger.

“Damn, Red, you wound me.”

“Bye Tony, behave while I’m gone.”

“You know I’m going to figure it out…”

She ended the call, powered the phone down and slid it into the locker before heading out. On her way back to Pierce’s floor, she paused in ops to warn them there was a Stark loose in their systems.

The look on Hill’s face was worth it as she rolled her eyes. When she mouthed _ drinks _, Natasha shook her head then mimed walking for a mission. She got the thumbs up and then she was on her way.

_ 2014 _

_ Target: Steve Rogers. Escaped Triskelion. Wanted in connection to the assassination of Director Fury. _

Natasha stared at the message on her phone. The alert was going out to all high-level agents.

Her phone rang a second later.

Pierce’s name appeared on the screen.

Ending the call without answering, she broke the phone down and dropped the pieces in the trash on her way back to the floor where Steve had left the drive. She’d watched him slip something into the vending machine before he left. Since it was the drive she brought Nick, she reacquired it for a couple of dollars in change and some gum. 

The loss of the phone didn’t concern her. She had her personal phone with its fancy new toys. Tony had caught her cracking the latest StarkPhone and added a few new bells and whistles to it. The game they played entertained them both, but she had no problems with keeping that little gem to herself. Particularly now.

Sliding a piece of gum into her mouth, she began to chew it and leaned against a wall where she had a good view of the vending machine. Rogers was on the run, he was likely going to come back to retrieve the drive and she could find out what was going on.

He might be pissed at her, but she highly doubted Rogers had anything to do with Fury’s death and the fact there was a manhunt going on for him told her something was going on. Pierce had always made her skin crawl. Yeah, she’d choose the guy she’d gone into battle with over the secretary.

Course, she might be signing her new death warrant… well, the ride always had to end sometime.

She stared at her reflection in the vending machine. It wasn’t correct. Why was she wearing a hood?

~~~

“HYDRA doesn't like leaks,” Sitwell protested.

“So, why don’t you try sticking a cork in it?” Sam asked as he drove.

Natasha ignored them both. The last twenty-four hours had left her raw. “Insight’s launching in sixteen hours, we’re cutting it a little bit close here.”

“I know,” Steve told her. “We’ll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the helicarriers directly.”

“What? Are you crazy?” Sitwell panicked. “That is a terrible, terrible idea.”

Suddenly a thunk hit the roof and a metal fist punched through the glass and ripped Sitwell out of the seat and into oncoming traffic. Natasha surged forward out of her seat even as bullets struck where she’d been sitting, she landed in Steve’s lap, yanking his head forward as she shoved Sam’s head away from the headrest.

Bullets struck right where their heads had been, she had her gun out but Steve cradled her with one arm and yanked up on the safety break with the other. Her gun slipped into the well as she turned her head and stared into James’ eyes through the eye goggles.

_ James _!

The Winter Soldier.

She hadn’t forgotten him.

Sam floored it even as they were hit from behind. The whole scene replayed in vivid detail. James ripped out the steering wheel. Then Steve detached the door and they were skidding on the highway braced by him.

They scattered as Steve took a hit in the shield that knocked him clean off the bridge. The Winter Soldier—James—focused on her. Even as she leapt off the bridge, trusting her grappling line, she knew he wouldn’t just give up because they weren’t up there.

Tracking his shadow, she had to make a choice.

Shoot him.

It was him or Steve this time.

It was him or all these innocents.

She had to shoot him.

_ I can’t shoot James. _

The voice didn’t belong to her.

_ Of course, I belong to you. You’re me—you’re who I become. _

Natasha stumbled. Everything in the dream halted.

The fires burned but the sound evacuated and people froze. She looked up, guns at the ready and stared up at him as he searched the street looking for a target.

_ I can’t shoot him. _

She had to shoot him. The last time she’d failed to shoot him, he’d killed her asset by shooting through her. He would kill Steve.

He would kill all these people.

_ I can’t… _

She _ had _ to.

The world around her splintered as she took the shot, then she was running again. She had to lead him away. It had hit, but he hadn’t gone down. Damn reinforced goggles.

She set up a recorded message and laid her trap. The Soldier pursued her.

_ Of course, he’s pursuing us. He always comes for us. We always find him. _

The pain split inside her head.

She had to get it together. He rolled an explosive toward her voice and it took out the car but she leapt while his focus was elsewhere. But he got an arm up too swift for the garrote to be effective.

_He’s fought us too many times. He knows how we move._ _Just like we know how he does._

Not helpful information and then she struck the car as he threw her. The blow sent pain rippling through her head, but still, she acted. The taser disc landed on his arm, disabling it. It wouldn’t last long but it would buy her time.

_ We can’t kill James. _

No, but they could damn well kill the Winter Soldier.

Or at least get him far enough away from Steve to maybe save his life.

There were worse ways to go.

_ James won’t kill us. _

A bullet cut through her shoulder. White-hot pain lanced her and she went down, crouching behind a car. But she didn’t have her guns, she didn’t have a garrote and then there he was leaping onto another car and she locked gazes with him.

The seconds passed.

One.

Two.

Three.

Then Steve was there and she wasn’t dead.

_ James will never kill us. Even when he doesn’t know us. _

Natasha fell back against the car, trying to get the pain compartmentalized, but it was all splintering around her.

The woman crouching in front of her was her—and not her.

“You won’t stop picking at the wounds. I told you, we compartmentalize so we can hide things even from ourselves.”

“What are you talking about?” She’d been on the highway. In a fight. Now she was… where the hell was she?

“I don’t know,” her other self answered as she glanced around. “This is somewhere you remember that I don’t.” She shrugged. “You know who Will is, don’t you?”

Natasha locked gazes with herself.

Natalia.

“You’re the part of me that chose to forget.”

A nod.

“Not hard, really,” Natalia said. “They have toyed with us so much over the years. The damage is extensive or so all your scans said.”

Scans.

Steve.

James.

It wasn’t 2014 anymore. They’d found James. He was back with her. He was safe.

Pushing up from the ground, she winced as her shoulder burned. Blood pumped out of the wound with every beat of her heart. Natalia watched the fight between James and Steve dispassionately.

“James will kill him.”

“No,” Natasha said. “He won’t. That’s Steve—his best friend.”

“His best friend is dead.”

Natasha glanced at her. “So are you and yet here you are.”

“Who said I died?” Natalia challenged, raising her brows.

“I do—I let you die when I walked away from the Red Room.”

Natalia laughed. “No, you walked away from the Red Room because they took James from us again. But you never forgot him because I could never forget him.”

“You were tired,” Natasha pointed out. “No matter how hard we fought, we always lost.”

She shrugged. “I won the only other battle that mattered.”

“Mary,” Natasha said and it wasn’t a guess.

“They never knew about her. They never found her. I kept that secret… I just don’t know how you figured it out.”

“James,” Natasha told her and Natalia frowned. “James remembered her.”

A sad smile crossed her face. “Does he hate us for leaving her?”

“No,” Natasha said. “He probably should, but he doesn’t.”

“I tried to tell him—in those last moments. It was okay. I wanted him to know if we ever remembered again that going back was always my choice.”

Somewhere inside of her, she’d always known that. “What happened to Stark’s plan? To Carter?” Because that was how Natalia thought of them.

The other her shrugged. “It would never have worked. The only thing that would work was if I could wake James up—it was an awful risk. Sometimes it took days, so my options were wake him or kill him.”

“But you chose neither.”

“I couldn’t kill him. So I killed everyone else I could get my hands on and forced them to put me in the chair.”

Natasha knew all this and they were sliding away from Mary. Divert. Distract. It would be almost funny, except she was doing it to herself.

Natalia gave her a sly smile. “Yes, because I swore that no matter what happened, my daughter would be safe from being my daughter. We are what we are, Natasha.”

“I have to know.”

“You’re not going to like the answer.”

“I can probably guess the answer, but I still need to know.” Natasha had no illusions about herself. She’d told Steve once she was attached to him and James. While she would kill for her team, she would die for them. For Mary, there was no crime she wouldn’t have committed.

With a sigh, Natalia glanced toward the fight. James and Steve were frozen. Had that really only been two and a half years before? It seemed a lifetime ago.

“Do you ever get tired, Natasha?”

“Yes,” she told herself. “But we must endure.”

“Because we are the Black Widow and not even death can take that from us.”

Precisely.

“How long?” Natalia asked.

“Forty years... since we left her.”

With a long sigh, she glanced at James. “So we didn’t see her grow up.”

“No.” Grief was a punch in her chest.

“Our penitence for our crimes,” Natalia said.

She couldn’t really argue with that. “How do we hide things from ourselves?”

“We compartmentalize.” Natalia took two steps toward her and gripped her injured shoulder and dug her fingers into the wound. “Where we put all our pain.”

Agony ripped through her.

Images flashed across her mind’s eye.

People she killed.

Missions she ran.

Hijacking critical data from different companies.

Assassinations.

Assaults.

Torture.

Fights.

_ “Boy, it must be hard to shake the whole double agent thing, huh? It sticks in the DNA.” _

_ “Sloppy, Natalia, sloppy. Trying to pretend to fail! You are our best, our brightest…where else in the world do you think you should be?” _

_ “While we’re being honest here, tell me about how you knew Bucky. Tell me why he remembers Natalia Alianova Romanova, a name I hadn’t heard of before Zola, a name you have never used around me.” _

_ “Natasha is the diminutive of Natalia.” _

_ “And you’re deflecting. You know I expect better from you, Romanoff. Bucky seemed to think he knew you, before DC and before Odessa. Natalia, Little Spider, Red Room…did you know him there?” _

_ “You’re boring the hell out of me, Lyonya.” _

_ “Do not use that name.” _

_ “What’s the matter Lyonya? Too familiar?” _

_ “You, the golden child everyone wanted…the doll they could dress up and make dance.” _

Arkhangelsk. 

The injections.

The needles into her stomach.

The extractions.

The marrow pulled from her bones.

The treatments.

Conditioning.

Every page of it flicked through her like someone fanning the pages of a book.

Pain could be compartmentalized.

The last door shattered and it fell on her like a tidal wave.

White edged her vision. Heat exploded in her head.

Somewhere in the distance, an alarm began to sound.

Her eyes opened.

Steve stared at her, horror on his face and James was on his feet. There was shouting.

Darkness swallowed her again.

_ 1974 _

The knock at the door sent adrenaline flooding through her system. Mary paused mid-play to look from her to the door. Wiping her hands on her skirt, Natalia made her way to the door and opened it.

Will smiled at her, flowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “I hope I’m not late…”


	69. Hard Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony can't stop thinking about Natasha, Bucky and Steve have a talk, Peter needs some reassurance and Maria and company capture Ross.

**Chapter Sixty-Nine**

_ Hard Calls _

**Tony**

“Do you know which watch you’d like to wear tonight, Mr. Stark?” The whisper of her words pulled him around. He glanced down at his dress shirt that he’d been buttoning then over at Natalie. His assistant.

Hiring her had been a good idea. A great idea, really. Pretty to look at. Efficient as hell. Smart.

God, she was smart.

“I’ll give them a look.” He finished the last button and sighed. “I should cancel the party.”

“Probably,” she murmured in that husky voice as she set the watches down for him to look at and carried his empty glass to the bar.

“Yeah. ‘Cause it’s…” Taking a seat, he didn’t really look at the watches. They were all solid timepieces.

“Ill-timed?” She asked delivering the drink to him. His fingers brushed hers as he accepted it.

“Right, sends the wrong message.” The fact he took the drink strikes him as odd and at the same time utterly natural.

“Inappropriate,” Natalie said, tipping her head as he took a drink. “Is that dirty enough for you?”

He smirked. The dirty martini was perfect. But then she knew that. She always knew what he needed, sometimes before he did. “Gold face, brown hand. The Jaeger. I’ll give that a look. Bring them over.” She carried the box of watches over and handed them to him. “I’ll take that. Why don’t you…” She settled on the arm of the chair and picked up the cover-up he’d been using earlier to try and hide his bruises.

With careful hands, she began to blend in the cosmetic to cover the bluish-black of the broken vessels.

“I gotta say it,” he said, studying her. Nothing about her was like any woman he’d ever known. “It’s hard to get a read on you. Where are you from?”

Hard, but not impossible. You just had to be patient and look beneath the masks she threw up against the world. The little acts of kindness she performed. The absolute gentleness with which she glided the concealer over his sore face—he could barely feel her and at the same time, he was hyper-aware of every move.

“Legal,” she said, a hint of a teasing smirk he would grow to adore.

The world seemed to shiver around him as she worked and he wanted to stay in this moment. Right here, where she was close and it was just the two of them. The rest of the world was beyond those doors.

“Can I ask you a question, hypothetically?” He’d turned the question over in his mind for weeks, always turning away from answering it. There had to be a solution, but with time and persistent failure, he’d begun to realize that he may lack the critical component he needed to find one. Time. “Bit odd. If this was your last birthday party you were ever gonna have, how would you celebrate it?”

Considering him, she seemed to reach right inside and see  _ him _ and not the face he showed the world. It was impossible. No one saw him. They just didn’t. It was too hard for him to share.

“I’d do whatever I wanted to do with whoever I wanted to do it with…” She finished the last bit of makeup and began to rise, but he caught her hand.

“Don’t.”

Eyebrows raised, she eased back onto the arm of the chair. The dark red curls spilled over her right shoulder. “Do you want to cancel the party?”

“This time? Yeah. I do.” It wasn’t even a question for him. “Stay?”

“Okay.”

“Hey J?” Even though J wasn’t there anymore, he was then. He could ask for him.

“Would you like me to take care of canceling the party, sir?”

“Yeah. Cancel it. Send them home with gift bags if they’re here. Then get us some dinner for two.”

Natalie arched an eyebrow.

“It might be my last birthday,” he said. “I don’t have a solution yet. Might not find one…” He glanced down at their hands. “And I want to do the one thing I haven’t ever gotten to do.”

“And that would be?”

“Whatever I want to do with you.”

The corner of her mouth kicked a little higher. “You barely know me.”

“I barely know you  _ now _ …” And some part of him knew this wasn’t real, knew he was dreaming. He didn’t care. Maybe if he’d made a different decision  _ then _ . Maybe they’d be somewhere else  _ now. _

“What do you want to do with me?”

“Have dinner. Take a flight. You like go-carts?”

Natalie lifted her brows. “Go-carts?”

“Go-carts. Bumper cars. Racing. Something fun.”

“You’re serious?” Surprise filtered through that sexy expression. Delight speared him. He liked surprising her.

“Yeah, I am.” Standing, he kept hold of her hand. “We can go play…”

“Tony…” That tone he recognized and turned to find Natasha giving him that fond look. Her hair was shorter than it had been and falling in waves. Their clothes had changed, too. His face was sore, his arm was worse and they were standing at the compound.

Fuck.

He sighed.

“You let them go,” he said. “I know.” The anger and the frustration at her betrayal had long since died in him. He’d been reacting and the fact she’d chosen to let them go had hurt—especially after what Bucky had done to her. “We need to get you out of here.”

She raised her brows.

Because this was something else he should have done differently. “T’Challa told Ross what you did. In all likelihood, he’s sending people for you if not coming himself.”

Arms folded, she gave a little shrug. “I did sign the Accords.”

“Yeah, I don’t care. You’re not going to hang for this. So get that gorgeous ass in gear and let’s get you somewhere secure then I’ll work on getting our people off the Raft.”

“Tony…”

“Red, I swear to God, if you tell me you can take care of yourself, I’m going to lose it. Let me do this.” It was like begging her to let him help. “Please let me fix this for you.”

“Only if you let me help.”

He chuckled. “You’re going to help whether I like it or not.”

“Yep,” she said simply. “Be easier on both of us if we just do it together.”

Yeah. It would have been.

She wouldn’t have been in the wind or hurt in Paris. When the danger threatened, he could have been right there.

When he held out his uninjured hand, she took it and he tugged her along as he headed for the garage. “Friday… scrub us from surveillance.”

He paused one step from the door to where his car was parked. Scrub surveillance. He never got how she got out, but she and Friday—had she done that? A little laugh bubbled up through him. When Natasha gave him a curious look, he ran a thumb down her cheek.

“Sometimes, I forget just how clever you are.”

Even as he stepped through into the garage, he stared at the kitchen in the chalet. It was dark outside and it was late, Natasha stood in front of him rumpled and a little frizzy-headed from trying to sleep. It had been a long damn day and they’d all needed a break after the videos. And he finally had her alone…

“Clint’s the first real friend I’ve ever had, and he’s more precious to me than any lover.”

Ouch.

“So I’m glad because emotions cloud things. Sex gets complicated.”

Double ouch.

He studied her for a long time, then crossed the distance between them. Slowly, he withdrew his hands from his pockets and lifted them toward her face. “May I?”

At her nod, he stroked his thumbs over her cheeks before cradling her face in the palms of his hands. Yeah. He wanted her.

God, he wanted her.

But… “I can be your friend, Red. I meant what I said. Never has to go any further than that.” No matter how much he was lying.

She covered one of his hands with her own. “You’re a sweet liar, Tony…”

“Thank you,” he said, blinking a little. “I think.”

“I—you’re welcome.” Then she stepped forward, and it was the most natural thing in the world to wrap his arms around her. Nat fit against him, and he slid one hand into her hair, and kept the other planted on her back. As for the curves pressing against him, his body didn’t get the memo, but he ignored it.

“I know I shouldn’t lie to you,” he whispered against her hair.

“We all lie to ourselves,” she reminded him. “It’s not like I haven’t lied to you before.”

Pulling away a little, he cupped her cheek and then to hell with what he should do. He dipped his head and kissed her. Her lips parted, granting him access even as her arms came around him again. The slow, sweet taste of her exploded against his tongue. The hints of tea and peppermint—she’d brushed her teeth. Careful, aware of her bruises, he slid his hands down to her hips and delved deeper against her tongue.

Heat swept over him as he leaned into her. The grip of her hands tightening on his shirt gratified him and he had to fight to keep from sliding his hands to her ass. Even telling himself over and over again, just a kiss, he wanted so much more. On a little groan, he pulled back a fraction to catch his breath and to find her flushed face still near his.

Her pupils were huge and her lips wet. “I’m not going to lie to you, Red. I’m in this to the end. Pick me. Don’t pick me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Instead of slugging him, she smoothed her hands over his shoulders. “Sex is going to complicate a lot of things.”

“I can handle complicated, what I can’t handle…what I can’t handle is if you’re gone. I made a lot of bad calls, Red. I’m done making them where you’re concerned.”

“Even when I need you to make the hard ones?”

He frowned and she evaporated and the room shifted around him. Instead, he stared at her inside the cryotube. Still. Frozen. His nanites were hard at work helping to repair her brain even as her serum kicked into overdrive.

The phantom kiss lingered against his lips and he slid his hands into his pockets. He could make the hard calls for her.

But she had to come back.

She had to wake up.

An alarm sounded and he frowned. The panel was clear. A hand came down on his shoulder and yanked him around.

Jerking awake, Tony stared at Steve as he backed up a step and held his own hands up. It took a moment for Tony to realize he’d armed his gauntlet and dropped back against the bed. His eyes were like sandpits and his head ached.

“Four hours,” Steve said quietly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine…” He cleared the gauntlet and put an arm over his eyes as he tried to blink back the weariness in his soul.

“I dreamed about her, too,” Steve said and Tony’s heart jerked. “Dreamed she was in that thing and I wake up and she’s still in it.”

Pushing himself upright, Tony met Steve’s worried eyes.

“She’s not staying there. We’re gonna get her out.”

No other outcome was allowed.

A knock at the door had Steve pivoting to see Peter standing there.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony said, swinging his legs off the bed. He hadn’t bothered to change to sleep. He’d throw himself through a shower and put on clean clothes.

“Um…” Peter darted a look at Steve and then to him. “Is—everything all right?”

“Natasha’s still in cryo, but she’s stable,” Steve told him. “You alright?”

Yeah, Peter was—definitely a little nervous. Standing, Tony ignored the pop in his back and the protest of his muscles. He was one long ache. Natasha was going to kill him if he didn’t stretch.

“Um…I was checking in with Aunt May and she wanted to know if the ‘sudden emergency’ had been a cover for your wedding.” Every part of that sentence left the kid uncomfortable.

Fuck.

Tony raked a hand through his hair. “I need a shower and coffee,” he said. “Then we’ll talk. Some stuff happened and it’s alright. It’s going to be fine.”

Peter jerked his nervous gaze from Tony to Steve. For the most part, Steve’s expression was neutral. Or maybe it was more welcoming than that, but at the moment, Tony was having trouble focusing. He could still taste Natasha on his tongue—or he imagined he could and it was screwing with his head.

“Tony’s right, Peter. It’s a long story, but it’s going to be fine.”

“Five minutes, okay, Pete?”

“Yeah—I can go make the coffee if you want?” Peter motioned behind him. “For you, too, Steve?”

“That’d be great, Kid.”

“Thanks, Peter.”

Peter ducked out and Tony leaned his head back. “It’s like the gift that keeps giving.”

“They say marriage is like that,” Steve commented, a hint of an edge on the words. “Compromise and sacrifice.”

“Steve…”

“Not mad, Tony—at least I’m not mad at you. You’re not the only one who’s tired. Go shower. I’m going to take one then we need to see if we can get Bucky to get some sleep.”

“You should eat,” Tony reminded him, but Steve waved him off as he left the room.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Tony headed into the bathroom. He’d not really had time to admire the facilities and he didn’t bother now. It took him closer to seven minutes than five, but he made quick work of a shower and shaving, before dressing in clean clothes.

Peter was in the kitchen alone when he got there, fidgeting as he studied his phone. Glancing at it as he passed, Tony didn’t sigh aloud. The headline read  _ Black Widow Bags Notorious Bachelor _ .

That was attractive.

Natasha’s vitals were up on the corner of his glasses so he took a moment to concentrate on them as he poured his coffee.

“Steve went with Wanda to get food,” Peter said. “She thought maybe you’d want to talk to me alone, but I wasn’t sure if everything was really okay even if Steve doesn’t seem upset. Are you and Natasha really married?”

“You know, I don’t know,” Tony told him slowly. “Seriously, it’s something Pepper did to keep the Committee off of her back and to distract the public from her injury and to quiet the press.”

Peter glanced at his phone then at Tony. Skepticism filled his eyes. “I don’t think that last part is working.”

“Them gossiping about us is much better than them speculating about Bruce or weapons or whether or not we’re hiding something.” As much bullshit as that was, he got what Pepper was trying to do. He still didn’t approve. Natasha didn’t deserve this on any level and if he asked her to marry him it would be different. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he shook his head.

They weren’t even in that ballpark at the moment, even if he wanted to buy season passes.

“The point is…it’s a cover. They pulled some strings and did some paperwork to make it legal and I’ll pull some strings and make it all go away when Natasha is awake and we’re back in the country.”

He did not bring up her citizenship. Peter had enough on his plate to worry about. As it was, he continued to chew his lower lip.

“And Steve and Bucky are okay with this?” Incredible doubt echoed in those words.

Swallowing a mouthful of coffee, Tony said, “No one is okay with it, but they aren’t pissed at me. I didn’t do it. Neither did Red. This is just something that is going to keep her safe for now.”

It didn’t seem to satisfy Peter’s agitation and the kid paced a little.

“Pete, it’s going to be all right.”

“It’s just that…” He pivoted in a circle. “I don’t know, it bothers me. Do I tell Aunt May the truth?”

“Kid, I’ll talk to your aunt, how’s that?”

Relief swarmed Peter’s expression then he grimaced. “She’s still mad at you.”

“I can take it,” he said.

“And she’s at work right now, so maybe later?” Peter offered and Tony chuckled.

“Works for me.”

The sun was shining outside and Tony had to check the time. He’d lost all semblance of it. Steve and Wanda returned with food. It was basically a platter of roasted meats, cheese, fruit, and heavy breads. They could make a sandwich or just eat it individually. Tony was too hungry to be picky, so he just worked his way systematically through the plate.

Wanda didn’t ask him any questions about Natasha, and the so-called marriage, so maybe she got her answers from Steve. But she and Peter kept making eye contact, and as Tony refilled his coffee, he caught the tips of Peter’s ears turning red as those gazes lingered.

Shifting his attention to Steve, he caught Steve staring at them, too. The other man cut a look toward him and raised his eyebrows. Tony shook his head. Apparently, they’d both missed some progression. It was cute though.

Considering only a few weeks earlier, Peter had been freaking out over the girl at school. The girl at school… he opened his mouth and could almost feel the pop of Natasha’s hand covering his lips before he could say anything.

Yeah. Maybe now wasn’t the time to ask.

**Bucky**

He managed a doze, but even in light sleep he couldn’t escape the sense of worry and waiting. The worried was far from alien to him. The concern everyone showed for his refusal to take lengthy breaks from the room was kind but unnecessary. Steve and Tony arrived with Wanda and Peter in tow. Their few hours of sleep had passed.

The kid had a difficult time looking at the cryotube. He was also on edge, fidgeting and nervous. More than once Wanda brushed a hand against his arm and that seemed to calm him. Clint narrowed his eyes at the touches, but Tony clapped him on the shoulder once before heading over to the monitors. Clint snorted.

“I’m going to shower and sleep,” Clint said, then gave Bucky a narrow-eyed look. “Staying or going?”

“Get some rest,” Bucky told him. “I’m fine.”

“You know, she’s going to be irritated if she finds out you’re not taking care of yourself.”

“But she’ll be awake,” Steve said, folding his arms. “And that would make getting scolded totally worth it.”

The whole idea made him grin. Not that he needed the encouragement. Shaking his head, Clint bumped his shoulder with a fist. “Eat something then.”

“I will and Clint?” When the other man paused, Bucky met his gaze. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Peter stared at him a beat before claiming the seat Clint abandoned and handing him a bag with something meaty inside of it if Bucky trusted his nose. “Brought you food. It’s more lunch than breakfast.”

Beyond the windows overlooking the valley and toward the mountains, the sun had been shining for a few hours. “Thanks, Pal.” He took the bag but didn’t open it. “Appreciate it.”

The kid leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he glanced at the cryotube. Wanda had moved away and Steve lifted his chin before he headed over to where Tony was studying the monitors. Nothing on them had changed significantly as far as Bucky had observed, but like Strange—Tony checked them every time he came in the room.

Paranoid was good here.

“Um… Bucky?”

Glancing back at Peter, he raised his brows. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I mean. Not everything. But… Wanda and I saw the news.”

The news? It took a moment for that to register. Peter cut a look toward Tony again and then back to Bucky. Worry radiated out of every pore.

“Ease up, Pal,” Bucky told him, rousing from the semi-relaxed dozing state he’d been maintaining. He didn’t need real sleep, not as much as most. The fact he could go days without it didn’t mean he could ignore it entirely. Resting could help put it off even longer and it let him stay close to her.

“I just—Tony said it was a cover and Steve doesn’t seem mad but—I know Natasha is with both of you and there was that fight before. I don’t want there to be another fight.”

The fight before.

Scratching his jaw, Bucky shifted his attention to Tony. The engineer seemed aware of the conversation and he left Steve and Wanda to join them. “Pete…”

Wanda may not have heard Peter’s quiet, urgent words, but Steve had. Bucky shook his head once at Steve’s silent question. He could handle this.

“I know,” Peter said with a frown. “But with Dr. Banner here and everyone tense and I really don’t want you guys to fight.”

“We’re not going to fight,” Bucky told him in a quiet voice and it silenced even Tony. Since the news came up, Bucky hadn’t really spoken to Tony about it other than to state categorically if Natalia wanted out, then Natalia was out. Tony had agreed to that. His irritation with Pepper didn’t extend to Tony. Natalia hadn’t chosen this. Tony hadn’t chosen this. The ring in his pocket for Natalia was Bucky’s commitment. But it could all wait until she was awake and whole.

The worried look Peter gave him held so many questions though. The kid had latched on to all of them—to Tony and Natalia most of all—and in all fairness, Natalia was attached to the kid. Bucky liked him, even if he was impetuous, headstrong, and every bit as stubborn as Steve or Natalia at times.

“You and Steve…”

“That wasn’t fighting,” Bucky told him. “That was funneling therapeutic aggression somewhere we could both put it.”

The twin skeptical looks sported by Tony and Peter were almost amusing. Though Bucky didn’t sigh, he wanted to. Peter wanted reassurance that Bucky wasn’t going to beat the hell out of Tony for the news whether it was real or manufactured. Considering their rocky history, probably not an unfair concern.

Shifting his gaze to meet Tony’s, Bucky asked, “Are you going to protect her?”

Without a snort or hint of dismissal, Tony answered in an equally solemn voice. “You know I will.”

No artifice marked those words or the intent behind the promise. Tony had been trying to protect her from the day Bucky “met” him. Nothing had changed on that front, save for the one request Natalia had made. He hadn’t asked Pepper to create this situation and they were all dealing with it. With a nod, Bucky ruffled Peter’s hair. “Then everything’s fine.”

He meant it for both of them, but the sagging relief in Peter’s shoulders told him it was exactly what the kid needed to hear. Steve joined them and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “He’s right,” he said quietly. “Everything is fine.”

The look Steve and Tony shared lasted for the length of a heartbeat. But both men nodded.

Then Steve transferred the look to Bucky. “You need to eat.”

Lifting the bag Peter brought him, Bucky said, “Peter covered me.”

The kid hid a small smile. When he didn’t open it right away, Steve snagged the bag, then opened the paper surrounding the wrap and took a bite before handing it back to him. Wanda moved over to join them and Strange arrived to inspect the screens, Natasha and then to consult with them on her progress. He was very pleased, even if his cloak hadn’t moved an inch away from the tube.

Something had shifted between Peter and Wanda. They either steadily avoided looking at each other or got caught up staring at each other. Probably a good thing Clint had gone to nap.

“You’re not going anywhere, are you?” Tony asked after Bucky had finished eating and they’d all had fresh coffee. Strange’s update had been more of the same. She was “healing” and they were seeing progress with the damaged portions breaking and then repairing. Enough of a difference that even Bucky could see it the changes on the scans.

“No,” he told him. He didn’t want to be anywhere else. He’d left twice and on one of those occasions, something had gone wrong.

“Fair deal. I’ll grab more food in a couple of hours and bring it back.” There was a question in his eyes. It kind of killed Bucky that Tony kept wondering if he wouldn’t be welcome.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

Relief filtered through and then Tony waved the kids out with him. Strange had also returned to whatever he’d been doing, leaving Bucky and Steve alone.

“Anyone say anything about how much longer?” Steve asked into the quiet.

Bucky shook his head. “Things like she’s healing, she’s doing well, the serum is doing its job, the nanites are working… but no time frames.” In fact, Strange had been very circumspect on that front and so had Shuri. She’d been in to sit with him a couple of times. More to keep him company though she did hit him with a lot of questions about his arm. The upgrades were nice and sometimes, if he kept it switched on, he half-forgot it was made from metal.

He’d never fully forget it, but he couldn’t escape the wonder in Natalia’s eyes when she’d seen it. Or the wonder he’d experienced touching her with it. None of these were suitable for sharing with Shuri. It was hard to find her irritating, even when she wouldn’t stop nagging him to let her run some tests. Still, she took his declines well and promised to just ask him the next day.

“Do you want to talk about the marriage thing?” It was the first time Steve broached the topic with him.

Bucky shook his head. “Not particularly.” Then he transferred his attention to Steve. “Do you need to talk about it?”

“Maybe I should have said need,” Steve said, his expression wry.

With a shrug, Bucky shook his head. “At the moment, it’s a non-issue. It’s a public farce to get them off Natalia’s back and while the woman was out of line to do this without asking anyone, I can’t find fault in her wanting to protect Natalia.”

“It’s just weird.”

“Stevie… it literally has nothing to do with Natalia. It’s a name on a piece of paper, no more tangible than one of her covers.”

“But she put a lot of herself into those covers,” Steve argued. “She lived a different life through them.”

Bucky understood that and yet… “But they weren’t  _ her _ , they could only ever be aspects of her.”

“True.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “The press was bad before, they’re going to be worse now.”

“Or they’ll go away, there’s no more breaking the story if they’re supposedly already together.” Another shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is Natalia waking up.” That was the primary concern. “Everything else is noise.”

“Yeah…” He pulled out his sketchbook but didn’t open it. “Once she’s awake—and recovered from this. And whether she remembers where she took Mary… I want to steal away with her again. Maybe not the island. But somewhere, even if we just stay here for a few days.”

He heard what Steve wasn’t saying. Just get her away from everyone, give her time to reorient.

“We’ll talk to her,” he said. Now would be a good time to bring up the house, but he didn’t. He was reluctant to spring it while she was still asleep. He’d wanted to show them together. In part because of Natalia’s reaction to Steve discussing house hunting a couple of months prior and in part because this would be the first time Bucky could truly provide for her—for them.

The first time in a very long while where he could take care of them again. Steve and Natalia had both been looking after him and each other. It was his turn. Instead of sketching though, Steve simply tapped his pencil against the sketchbook.

“What’s going on, Stevie?”

“Just thinking about what they did to her at SHIELD… I know of at least one time they put her in that machine after I knew her. How many times did they do it and I didn’t notice? What is she going to remember from those pieces?”

“Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.” They had survived many such atrocities. She would bleed, but he wouldn’t let her bleed out. Nor would Steve.

“How do we deal with the past, Buck?” Steve glanced away from the tube to stare at him. “I can’t make this better for either of you.”

“No one can,” he admitted. “We can only purge it and try to do better. She might hate herself, that’s the danger we have to watch out for.” Her so-called crimes had already made her leery of letting them in and they’d had to prove to her it didn’t matter.

“I keep wondering if I hadn’t gone into the ice. Would I have found you two sooner?”

It was a pipe dream, but Bucky said, “You’d have married Peggy. Probably had a few kids. Then sometime in the early seventies gotten a call from the beyond the grave.” Because if Steve had been alive when he and Natalia stole away, he would have reached out to him.

“Could have kept you guys out.”

“And you wouldn’t have this with Natalia now,” he pointed out. “We can ask ourselves what if all day, Stevie. It’s done. I have… a lot of regrets for choices I didn’t make either because I couldn’t or because I didn’t know enough to recognize they were possibilities.”

Marrying her. Reaching out to Peggy or Howard himself, but it didn’t occur to him until far too late and it never occurred to him that Natalia would have. But she always thought ahead, her mind worked out the twists in the bends before she reached them.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Bucky continued. “You weren’t vacationing while this happened. You were trapped yourself and we didn’t come for you either.”

“You didn’t know,” Steve said drily.

“And neither did you.”

“I wish…” Steve said slowly.

“Yeah, me too, but we’re here now and we know right where she is.” He focused on the tube again. “We’re going to be here when she opens her eyes. We’ll help her with anything she needs.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Setting his pencil down, Steve faced him. “If she wakes up and it’s all changed for her…”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Steve…”

“Hear me out. We don’t know what’s going to happen, but if she wakes up and Natasha is more Natalia than not—if it changes her feelings for me. Let it go.”

“Don’t be a damn martyr,” Bucky told him. “You planting that damn plane in the ice was enough for one lifetime. Don’t be a martyr. Natalia loves you. More, Natalia wants you. If you think I’ll let her forget that any more than I would let you forget that you care about her, you’re a real punk.”

“Buck, you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know. You think you need to sacrifice something to get her back, but that’s not getting her back Steve. And that’s not what she would want. You know it. So don’t.”

Cause if she woke up and didn’t remember Bucky… he would fight to get her back all over again and he’d gladly wage that war.

“I’ve had to find her so many times, I’ve lost count,” he said firmly, his voice hoarse. He knew exactly how many times. “Don’t give up on her Steve.”

“I’m not.”

“Good.” He blew out a breath. “I don’t want to have to beat you again.”

There was a moment of silence, then Steve chuckled. “Pretty sure I won that last bout.”

With a wry glance, Bucky said, “That’s what? One in five? One in four?”

Eyes narrowing, Steve glared. “You want another round?”

“I wouldn’t say no.” His bruises were healing. The bullet wounds had closed. The pain was fading.

A sudden movement by the cryotube pulled Bucky to his feet as the cloak jerked. The cloak hadn’t moved in the last three days and it faced the tube, but nothing else had changed. Taking a step forward, Bucky frowned.

An alarm went off. Then another.

Then a third.

All the panels had gone red.

“Oh my god,” Steve exhaled and he gripped Bucky’s arm.

Natalia’s eyes were open.

Tony and Strange hit the room almost simultaneously with Peter a half-step behind Tony. Suspended in the ice, Natalia stared at them with almost blank green eyes. Bucky couldn’t breathe.

Shuri entered the room along with the specialist A’dyemi. Peter shifted from foot to foot and when he would have surged closer, Steve and Bucky both pulled him back and out of the way. Natalia’s eyes had closed again. One by one the alarms were shutting down and the red screens began to flash between red and green.

“We will need to cycle her out of cryo,” Shuri said into the silence.

“Not yet,” Strange argued. “Not after that seizure.”

Everything inside of Bucky froze.

“But the cryo may be causing it, she should not have woken up,” Shuri countered. “These readings indicate her metabolism is no longer as slowed as it should be.”

“Perhaps,” A’dyemi said. “But I agree with my colleague. The structural changes have been significant in the last few days, but that seizure was not triggered by the cryo but by the collapse and damage here.”

Peter made a little sound in the back of his throat.

“It’s not that bad,” Tony said over his shoulder, focusing on the three of them. “It’s bad, but not as bad as it sounds.”

“How bad is it?” Steve asked.

Turning, Strange looked at them. “What we have been doing in stages, working through the scarred areas—they’ve all collapsed at once. The rush of blood and neural activity set off more bleeders in the brain. We would call it a stroke, but I’m beginning to think this is just her body’s way of healing neural tissue. Again, we’ve never had a case like this.”

“Agreed,” Shuri said. “Sergeant Barnes was nowhere near this difficult a patient.”

For once, Bucky snorted. Difficult. Natalia was a fighter.

“However,” Strange continued. “This critical—the neural activity has increased, nearly one hundred and fifty percent.”

“And it’s climbing,” Tony said slowly. “I’m stimulating the pleasure center to try and offset this some, but it’s not slowing the activity enough. We may not want it to slow…” He looked over at Strange. “That’s a lot of damage.”

“But expected, just not all at once. Respiration and other autonomic functions are back in range. Twelve hours.”

Shuri frowned. “That’s a long time at this level of activity. She could wake up in there again.”

“She could,” Strange admitted. “But we need her brain to be in a more stable condition before we step her down. If we do it now, we run the risk of a real coma and her body’s resources retasking to warming her and to stabilizing her from hypothermia.”

The younger woman’s face tightened. “We will need to adjust our monitoring accordingly, can we increase the dopamine levels and the oxytocin, to try and soothe her more?”

“Already working on it,” Tony pointed out. “But at the levels, we have it at now, it’s not doing much. If we increase it, there’s no guarantee it will work but it might create other issues.”

“We keep it in reserve,” Strange said. “Her pulse isn’t climbing nor is her blood pressure. She’s not in pain.”

At some point, Wanda had come in and she was holding Peter’s hand in a fierce grip. The younger man had stopped pulling against their hold, so Bucky released him.

“Twelve hours,” Strange said again. “If we don’t see improvement in twelve hours, we remove her from cryo and induce a medical coma. We have to buy her as much time as we can.”

“Twelve hours,” Steve said slowly, his gaze fixed on Tony’s. Bucky studied them one at a time. No one liked the plan, but no one argued against it except Shuri and she looked thoughtful for the longest time before she finally nodded.

“We might be able to have the stem cell treatment ready by then,” she suggested, looking to Tony. “We’re close.”

“We’re not that close,” he countered. “But we could get closer. It might be the last boost she needs to clear this hurdle.”

“Then we should get to work.”

“Don’t go far,” Bucky said.

“I won’t.” Tony hadn’t moved away from the screen where he worked and the cloak focused on the tube.

“What does the cloak know that we don’t?” Bucky asked. Even as he asked the question the item turned as though regarding him.

“A possible threat,” Strange admitted. “But whether it’s medical or something else, I don’t know.”

The cloak resumed its vigil.

Bucky sat down slowly, every muscle vibrating.  _ This _ was why he hadn’t wanted to leave. But if the last of the scars were gone—did that mean the last memory blocks were out?

He rubbed the back of his neck.

Steve sank onto the chair next to him. Peter and Wanda sat on the sofa, but Wanda was very focused on the cryotube.

“She’s dreaming…”

No one moved save for Tony who pivoted and Strange who gave a little jerk.

“Wanda, you’re not supposed…” Steve began.

“I’m not,” Wanda said softly. “I promise. I just—I can feel it. She’s dreaming. It’s what it feels like when you or Tony are restless. Or when someone at the compound is having…” She hesitated.

“Is she dreaming or having a nightmare?” Bucky asked.

Wanda slanted a look at him and he read the truth in her eyes.

She was having both.

Somewhere in those memories and dreams, a nightmare held her fast.

Fuck. 

**Matt**

The fight in the compound was brutal but swift. Despite the resistance, Logan was a one-man army on his own and he had backup. Matt made his way inside and followed his instincts and senses. The retired general and former Secretary of State sat alone in an office. No other heartbeats in the room.

“I wondered which of you would come,” Ross said as Matt let himself in the room. He didn’t make any pretense of silence. Escape wasn’t possible.

The scent of gun oil and metal warned him that Ross was definitely armed. A shift of a hand against the desk, the weight of his body squeaked the chair as he sat forward.

“Can’t say I expected it to be… who the hell are you again?”

“No one you know personally, Mr. Secretary,” Matt said. He’d left the costume in Hell’s Kitchen. Instead, he wore a lighter mesh body armor and regular clothes.

“I suppose those folks are outside.”

An explosion punctuated the thought.

“Entirely possible, depending on who you expected.”

He was six feet from the man, in easy striking range but Ross didn’t twitch his hand any closer to the gun.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Matt Murdock,” he told him. “I’m an attorney.”

“They brought me an attorney?” Ross laughed, but there was no humor in that sound. “I suppose they want a trial, some place to put me on display and point to me and say I am the cause of all the issues.”

Matt said nothing.

“To be honest—I expected Romanoff or Barnes to show up and put a bullet in my head. Stark maybe, but he prefers the grandstand. Hiring me a lawyer would be a new move.” Another humorless snort. His heart’s staccato race slowed. Whatever decision he’d been wrestling with, he’d made. “What’s your plan? Arrest me?”

“I don’t have the authority to arrest you,” Matt informed him. “Like I said, I’m an attorney.”

“This is a long way to come to offer me representation, Mr. Murdock.”

Matt said nothing.

“You have to realize that when they get in here, there will be no trial. They don’t want me to testify. No, they just want to silence me. I’ll give that bitch credit when she went for character assassination, she was exceptionally effective.”

Still, Matt let him talk. Ross hung himself out to dry. Having listened in on that entire interrogation Natasha had given him ample opportunities to act without malice or criminal intent. Ross had failed on all levels. The sounds from outside ceased.

No more gunfire.

No more shouting.

A door gave way.

Logan was likely on his way. Or the Cajun. One or both with Fury.

“Have a good day, Mr. Murdock.” Even as Ross lifted the gun, Matt threw the baton, knocking the weapon out of his hand. The crack of a bone breaking punctuated the gun’s clatter as it hit the ground.

“Why the hell did you do that?” Ross groaned. “I wasn’t going to shoot you.”

“You’re not shooting yourself, either,” Matt informed him. He nudged the gun aside with his foot as he circled the desk. “You have questions to answer, Mr. Secretary. You don’t get the easy way out.”

“I thought you were an attorney,” Ross grunted. The door to the office burst inward.

“He is an attorney,” Logan said. “I’m the one you should worry about.”

But Ross let out a wheezing laugh. “I’ll be damned, Fury. You finally had to come do your own dirty work.”

“Damn, you really are uglier in person,” Remy commented. “You were always kind of nasty on television.”

Matt didn’t smile, but the comment amused him.

“So what’s it going to be?”

“The way I see it, you’re going to answer a few questions,” Fury said.

“Why would I do that?”

The rake of claws slicing through the desk elicited a stunned silence. “Because if you don’t answer questions, Bub. You’re not much good to anyone.”

Ross coughed. “Go ahead. Kill me. See how far that gets you.”

“Don’t have to kill you,” Fury stated and he’d moved closer. Matt listened to the steady cadence of his heartbeat. There was an inherent risk with Fury involved. He could shoot Ross to silence him forever. On the one hand, it ended a threat. On the other, there were more threats and Ross was a thread they could pull.

Logan didn’t care for Fury that much and Matt couldn’t say he did either. Finding out he was one of those Natasha had worked for back in the day answered a lot of questions. But that had only been after SHIELD fell. He hadn’t met the man himself until this trip.

“Then arrest me, but let’s just get this over and done with.”

“Hill.”

The woman in question entered the room. “Good afternoon, Mr. Secretary.”

“You work for Tony Stark. Still telling me the Avengers have nothing to do with this.” His derisive snort betrayed a confidence a man in his position should not have.

“I do and I am,” she confirmed. “I’m not here for him. I’m here because you tortured a friend of mine and you set the Avengers up. This is a little more personal.” She crossed the room and Matt caught the sound of a cap being removed, then the click and miniaturized motor sound of an injection. The moment it touched the former general, he began to struggle, but Matt locked him into place.

He wasn’t fond of torture.

But some people deserved what happened to them.

“What the hell is that?” Ross demanded.

“Let’s just say in a few minutes, even a casual touch is going to feel like hell,” Hill said. “And you’re very much going to want to tell us everything you know and if you don’t—you’re going to live a long time regretting it.”

“Damn, she’s cold,” Remy said. “Brutal, but efficient. Anyone want popcorn for this part?”


	70. Natalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalia remembers...

**Chapter Seventy**

_ Natalia _

**Natalia**

_ 1974 _

Dinner had been a success, Will ate everything with a kind of enthusiastic gusto that had her propping her chin on her hand as he told her a story about his time in Egypt in and around the bites of food. He’d nearly cleaned his plate and when he glanced at the empty bowl at the center of the table, she passed him the second of her two pork chops.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, with a frown.

“Oh, I’m having way too much fun watching you eat.”

For her part, so did Mary. She’d been enchanted from the moment Will started talking. Even when his stories weren’t meant for  _ entertaining _ he’d told them with bumps and falls in his voice, making faces, and then grinning at the happier spots. All of which made Mary smile.

It twisted something in her chest even as it unknotted something in her soul. Will paid attention to Mary, even helping her with her drink when she reached for it.

Will paused and glanced at his plate then at her. “I suppose I was hungrier than I thought.”

She chuckled. “It’s never a bad thing to enjoy someone’s cooking. Though I did make dessert.”

“Your mama made dessert?” Will said looking at Mary with wide eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Seecwet,” Mary told him firmly, before putting her finger to her lips.

“Got it,” he answered with a wink. Mary grinned again and then glanced at Natalia. Normally, she would temper everything with caution, but Natalia winked at Mary. There was a nascent connection and she needed to encourage it even if it gutted her to do so.

They drank the wine, then ate the brownies with a scoop of ice cream. Mary made a mess, but Will cheerfully cleaned her up and when it was done, they sat and talked while Mary played. He lingered when she got Mary ready for bed and when she came out with the sleepy girl in her pajamas, she’d been surprised to find him doing the dishes.

“Only fair,” he murmured, drying his hands. “You did all the work.”

Natalia moved her hand in soothing circles against Mary’s back. “I appreciate it.”

“I see someone’s tired.”

“A lot of excitement,” she told him. Mary’s eyes were nearly closed. When Will pressed a kiss to Mary’s temple, Natalia’s heart fisted and threatened to explode. He did everything right. With every action, he proved himself the right choice and she inched closer to the moment she both craved and dreaded.

“I had a good time, too,” he murmured. Then he cupped her face. “And I’m going to say good night and let you two get some rest. Thank you for having me.”

“Thank you for coming,” Natalia told him, meaning it. “We should do this again.”

The creases in his cheek deepened with his grin. “I would like that. Very much.” He seemed to be searching her face for a moment and then he looked down at Mary. “Do you have someone you trust to leave her with for the weekend? If not—we could adjust and bring her with us.”

Ana and Edwin would keep Mary if she asked. At the same time, she was selfish. She wanted every moment with her she could get. Yet, that desire was foolish and inadvisable. No matter how much she wanted to be selfish. She had to disconnect, to begin to disengage. It would be better for Mary, for everyone, if there was distance before the separation.

“That wouldn’t spoil your plans?” Natalia asked, studying him from beneath her lashes.

Will narrowed the gap between them, covering her hand on Mary’s back with his own and then dipping his head, slow enough to easily telegraph his intentions. For a split-second, all she saw were James’ pale blue eyes and she had to pack those away, too.

Compartmentalizing each part of the pain as she met the kiss and let herself sink into it. When he cupped her cheek and deepened the kiss, she opened herself to it and employed a few tricks to tease the kiss longer until he finally groaned and tore his head up.

He wasn’t alone in panting. “Shall I call you?”

When he called the night before promptly, she’d smiled at the excitement in his voice. The passion thickening his voice currently beckoned for her to seal the deal, inextricably bind him. “Yes please,” she invited him. “I would like that.”

Another kiss, this one nearly as sweet as it was ardent. After he left and after Mary was in bed, she sat on the sofa in her little living room and put her head in her hands. Will Fitzpatrick was a good man. Every bit of research she had done indicated his intelligence, his compassion, and his honor. Her own instincts told her that and she was very good at reading people.

He was alone in the world, much as she was. An only child, his parents had passed. But he had strong ties to his community and to friends.

More, he worked as an analyst and a translator. He understood security, his life touched on her old one, but no so intrinsically as to earn him enemies. His time as a field agent ended with the accident that claimed his ability to father children. His military service wasn’t a lie, but the CIA had recruited him swiftly and they’d put him to work. While his home was in Queens, he often went to Langley, Virginia if he worked away. His trips overseas were vacations, not missions.

Lifting her chin, she took a deep breath. Good. Loyal. Kind.

She would use all three to secure Mary a home away from her. Away from any ties to her or to James.

If she were successful in freeing James, she would steal their daughter back. If she wasn’t…

Mary would be safe.

Acid ate away at the inside of her flesh. She didn’t have time for these sorrows. Later, she promised herself. Later she would let herself feel this pain.

Lying to herself was hardly a new thing.

~~~

“There she is,” Ana greeted her as she and Mary entered, swooping in to lift Mary out of the stroller. “I have missed this face.”

“Ana!” Mary giggled excitedly.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Natalia told her. “We decided to feed the birds in the park.”

Well, Natalia had decided to do it, with each day they were drawing inevitably closer to her exodus.

“No worries, Mr. Stark is running late himself. Mrs. Stark just left with Tony, Edwin is driving them so it’s just us until Mr. Stark arrives. I’m baking,” she continued, looking at Mary. “Do you want to help me?”

Mary shot a quick glance to Natalia who merely nodded before she clapped her hands and said, “Yes, pwease!”

“I’m going to his lab,” she told Ana. “I’ll catch up with you.”

“Sounds good. Did you want some tea?”

“No, thank you.”

Natalia made her way to Stark’s private laboratory hidden below his ballroom. Inside, she studied the research he had drawn out on the table. He had been working on replicating her serum for months. Every other week, she had given him blood, over the last two months, she’d given him blood every week. It wasn’t healthy to donate so much, but she rebounded every time.

Between training and the range, she was ready to resume the hunt. Stark had designed her new handguns and she’d been training with those every chance she got. There were new files added to the stack. They had been monitoring stories—as she scoured the nightly news and daily news reports. An accident in Ukraine set fire to an oil refinery. It had been burning for three days. Ethnic fighting in the Balkans claimed four lives and injured a dozen more. Bombing at the National Defence College in Great Britain. Student protests in France. Nuclear test conducted in Nevada. Gas explosion…

Natalia traced the opening three sentences, then flipped to deeper in the paper. It was a minor story, barely making a blip on the third page and then continued near the end of the international section.

_ Gas Explosion Outside of Prague Kills a Dozen _

She knew that building.

James.

Systematically, she began going through the papers. She found the foreign paper bundle Stark had been having sent in. Page by page, she read through them.

“Sorry I’m late,” Stark called as he entered. “I got caught up…”

She barely listened to his story. The gas explosion took place three weeks before, near the beginning of February. That would be almost six months after they’d taken him.

East Berlin.

_ A Dozen Killed In Underground Club Venue _ .

Heinrich worked out of that club. He’d put together some of her foreign IDs. Not the ones she and James used for this trip.

“Natalie?”

She spared Stark a glance.

“You found something?”

“I’m not sure.”

The next line was in a British paper about a pair of missing Canadian tourists. The photo included two people she recognized. They had sold them the car in Hamilton, Ontario.

James was trying to find her.

They’d sent the Winter Soldier to find her.

The Canadians went missing a week before.

Would they send him to the cabin? They’d caught him in Montana and they’d come for them there, but in all likelihood, the cabin had burned. She might have a month if she was lucky.

“You’re leaving soon, aren’t you?” Stark’s question pulled her away from the papers. He’d rolled up his sleeves, his eyes grim.

“I will have to if I am to find him. I doubt they are letting him run without a handler or a team. They will have to be eliminated if I stand a chance getting through to him.”

“I’ve been working on a narcotic, a tranquilizer to try and take him down. I can’t really test it without him, but if nothing else—maybe it will buy you some time.”

Natalia nodded. “You will need to increase how much blood you take if you need more.”

“Yeah, I’m already half-draining you.”

“I understand, but you need it for your project and as payment for the weapons and transport.”

“Natalie,” Stark said slowly. “You don’t have to do another damn thing for me and I’m still helping you.” Then he scowled “And on that note…” He turned to a briefcase and opened it, then pulled out a file and set it in front of her.

It had the SHIELD logo on the front and she eyed him as she flipped it open.

It was blurred.

Badly blurred.

But she knew that arm.

It was a sock to her gut.

“That came in today,” Stark told her. “It’s why I was out. Peggy called. We have this heavily compartmentalized. Only three people in all of SHIELD know about it.”

Him.

Peggy.

“Who is the third?”

“No one you would know, but they are skilled at their job and they know how to keep a secret.”

“Where was this taken?”

“East Berlin.” The date corresponded with the news article. “That was the closest they could get to him and even then it was dumb luck. No one knew what they had until our analyst looked at it.”

While he spoke he gathered the tubes and the packs to take her blood and she settled back in the chair. “I need another favor.”

In this, it would be a favor.

He tied a tourniquet around her upper arm and went looking for a vein. “What do you need?”

She waited until he had the needle inserted and began to draw her blood. “A body.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“I need a body, a woman, roughly my age, weight and height. I’ll need it relatively fresh and I’m going to need time with it before I use it.”

His eyebrows gathered together. “For what?”

“Believe me when I say you do not want to know.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, then he nodded. “I’ll see what I can find. The red hair is going to be hard to match.”

“Don’t worry about the hair color. Lighter will be better, but I’ll make it work.”

If the Soldier was on the hunt it was only a matter of time before he came to the States. She did not think he would come to New York. At least not without direct orders, but she needed to begin acting like he was already here.

Her plans with Will needed to accelerate.

~~~

The hand stroking her side pulled her from her musings and she glanced over her shoulder to find Will smiling at her, his eyes still heavy from sleep. “You all right?” The quiet, gentle question tugged at her. “You look like you’re a million miles away.”

Rolling onto her back, she met his smile with one of her own. “I was just thinking about what we might do for the rest of our weekend.” They’d arrived Friday afternoon at the little inn in the middle of New Hampshire. It was picturesque, like a postcard, and he’d reserved them the nicest room. Mary was hours away in New York with Edwin and Ana. It was the longest she’d ever been away from her and it took effort to stay focused here.

When Will dipped his head to kiss her, she allowed it, twining herself around him. “I think, I like where we are,” he murmured in between kisses. “But I could be persuaded to bring you breakfast in bed.” Then there were no more words.

For all his passion, Will was a gentle and considerate lover. It made her job even easier and while she didn’t need to go out of her way to please him—she used every skill in her arsenal. The next few weeks would be all he had and she wanted him to have memories.

They went skiing in the afternoon. Natalia found herself laughing more than she expected. Natalie’s fondness for Will was not manufactured and as much as Natalia regretted the potential for attachment, it satisfied her on a more primitive level.

He would be a good caretaker for Mary.

Sunday afternoon, they sprawled on the bed with her draping him. Despite the chilly air, they’d thrown off the blankets. Sweat dotted her skin and his panting breaths gradually deepened.

“I hate the idea of taking you back to your apartment,” he admitted.

Lifting her head, she tucked her chin to her folded hands and smiled at him. “I’m a progressive woman, but I’m not certain my landlady would approve of you moving in.”

“Then come stay with me—you and Mary both.”

She raised her brows.

“I’ve got a nice place, it’s not huge, but it has three bedrooms. I use one of them as an office, but we can convert one into a room for Mary.” He trailed his fingers over her spine.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Yes…but I’ll ask you to marry me first if that would make you more comfortable.” He grinned.

Natalie snorted. “Of all the proposals…”

“I’m serious.”

Lifting her head, she studied him. He was serious. “We’ve known each other only a few weeks.”

“I don’t need more time. I know what I want—I want you. I want your daughter, I want her to be our daughter.”

Her gut twisted.

“I know I’ll never be able to replace her father—”

She covered his mouth with fingers. They couldn’t go too far down that road. Discussing James, even the cover she’d designed for him for this, it was too much. “He’s not here,” she said simply. And she didn’t know if she could bring him back. “Will…she doesn’t remember him. Not like she used to.” She hadn’t asked for him, those questions had stopped and it gutted her. “I can’t bring you into her life if this isn’t something permanent.”

With every loop, she bound him tighter to her—to Mary.

“Marriage is permanent, Natalie. To be honest, I’ve been thinking about it since our date at The Met.”

“Our second date?”

“I’ve lived long enough to know what I want. You’re the most intriguing and beautiful woman I’ve ever known. You’re brilliant, you have a great daughter and watching you with her—the capacity you have to love is intoxicating.” He swallowed. “Yes, I want to marry you. I know a judge in the city, he can waive the requirements, we can be married by tonight—just you and me, then Mary and if you’ll let me, I’ll adopt her.”

There it was.

She dipped her chin, letting her hair fall forward to cover her eyes. This was what she’d needed.

“There is something I have to tell you,” she said quietly. He flexed his hands against her.

“You can tell me anything.”

“You asked about our families not approving.” It had come up in one of their earlier conversations.

“Yes. You said they didn’t and it was why you two eloped and then he was drafted to fight in the war.” Yes, James had been drafted just not for the war Will thought it was. “Then he passed away and it was just the two of you.”

“Yes and we never told them about Mary,” she admitted. “I will never tell them about her. If you adopt her—she will be yours.” The blade she would have to use to cut away this part of herself would go deep. “Only yours.”

This was the closest to the truth she dared get. Will couldn’t know. To keep them both safe, he could  _ never _ know. Telling him they would try to take her away was all he needed to hear.

Less than twenty-four hours later, Natalie Rogers married William Fitzpatrick at a courthouse in Queens. The papers were filed along with the adoption paperwork for Mary. It would take thirty days to finalize with the state, but no one had looked askance at the death certificates she’d provided.

Natalie said nothing to her landlady. Her apartment was paid up through the end of the month, she would be gone after Mary’s birthday.

One more birthday she would give herself.

Then she would go.

When she collected Mary from the Jarvises, she didn’t tell them about the marriage, either. Letting Edwin drive her back to the apartment, from there, she made her way to Queens with Mary and took her to her new home.

Will was ecstatic.

Her days passed at Will’s much as they had at the apartment. She took Mary to the park, she worked with her verbal and cognitive skills, she cooked, and she took short trips to see Stark.

Every day, she tracked information in the papers. When Natalie combined her finances with Will, he’d been in for a shock. The tidy sum she had moved from the bank account to his would more than cover Mary for several years of schooling.

They discussed Mary’s education, Natalia wanted her wishes known even if it would ultimately not be her decision and each day, she tried to extract herself. It was the most impossible mission. Distance wouldn’t come, but she had to create it.

Each time she reminded herself that Mary was Natalie Fitzpatrick’s daughter, not Natalia Romanova’s, she died a little on the inside. Will, on the other hand, seemed to grow happier with each day as did Mary.

The night Mary wanted Will to read the story and not Natalia, the clock ticking down inside of her grew louder.

Mary called Will Daddy two weeks after they moved in with him. Not Papa, never Papa.

Just Daddy.

~~~

“You’re leaving,” Jarvis sat down at the table as he settled a teacup in front of her and then one in front of himself. They were alone. Ana was off with Mrs. Stark and her son on some expedition. Stark was away in D.C. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.

Mary’s birthday was the following day.

“Yes,” she told him. “I debated not telling you at all and just vanishing.” She could admit that much. “But I thought you’d earned the right to know. I will ask you only tell Ana, no one else.”

He sighed heavily. “Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay? You have built a life here for yourself…”

“No,” she said simply. “I built a life before and they came. It is not a matter of if, it is only a matter of when. I am a threat to my daughter, Edwin. I will always be a threat to her. She is so young now and it won’t be as hard for her to forget me given enough time as it would be if she were older.”

“You don’t expect to rescue him.”

“It doesn’t mean I won’t try. But James is a fierce fighter and there are ways to incapacitate him that won’t kill him but timing will be everything. I have to plan for the worst. In this case—the worst is I never come back.” The very worst, they take her and learn of Mary before they wiped her. _That_ could not happen.

At least then her pain would stay locked away. She’d spent weeks rebuilding her walls, falling back onto her training and withdrawing from Natalie until she was only a cover. It would shear off a piece of herself.

“I pray that does not happen to you, Natalie,” Jarvis said slowly. “I have grown very fond of you as has Ana.”

“Your wife is a remarkable woman,” Natalia said. “Quite remarkable, and I am very glad to have known you. Now I need you to make a promise to me—and a promise I need you to have Ana make to you.”

“What promise must you extract now?”

“You may see me again, but if I do not recognize you nor speak to you as I am now—do not presume to know me. In fact, please get as far away from me as you can.”

He frowned.

“If they take me again, they could repurpose me as much as they have James. I would not be safe to know. Can you promise me that?”

“Of course,” he said. “But if we see you again, why not have SHIELD resources take you in—and perhaps free you?”

“Because I would likely kill a lot of people in that attempt. Make no mistake, Edwin. I’m a very dangerous person. I do not want to hurt any of you. But if I don’t know you and I have orders…” She didn’t have to finish the sentence.

“I see.” His frown promised her he did see. “Miss Mary is safe?”

“Yes.”

“You will not tell me where?”

“No.”

“More security, I suppose,” he agreed. “Though I know the names you were vetting. I could quite possibly determine where she is.”

“You could, but I am asking that you don’t. Her life will be different from the moment I leave onward. I want no ties back to us. To you. To Stark. To Carter. I want her free of it all.”

She couldn’t leave anything to chance. The smart thing to do would be to kill Edwin and Ana. They were the last two who might possibly figure out where Mary was. But Natalia couldn’t bring herself to do that. They had done nothing wrong and from the beginning, they had kept their word.

“I understand. We have young Master Tony to supervise, so we shall keep busy.” But the disappointment was palpable. He and his wife cared very much for Mary.

“I am sorry I can’t leave her with you.” She meant it. Will was a good father. He’d proven himself a good man. Mary would be safe with him. The Jarvises could have been a good choice, but they were too close to Stark.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “I truly do. We have photographs, I will make sure to put them away where they cannot be easily seen.”

“Thank you, Edwin.”

She lingered only long enough to finish her tea and to leave Stark one last blood donation. Then as Jarvis walked her to the door, she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“It has been a privilege to know you, Natalie.”

“I could say the same of you. Please give my regards to Ana.”

“I will.”

When she passed through the front gates, she didn’t look back.

~~~

Mary’s birthday was a delight. They took her to Coney Island. While she was too young to appreciate all the rides, she loved the carousel. Will won her a stuffed bear and Natalie scored her a stuffed horse.

They blew bubbles and ate hot dogs on the boardwalk. Then when Mary napped in the stroller, she and Will took a long walk. The ring he’d given her a week after their marriage was official was a simple gold band, but he’d had it engraved with three words:  _ work of art. _

At her puzzled look, he’d answered, “I’ll never turn down a gallery invitation again. You were the best work of art I saw that night.”

It had been endearing and chipped at the ice she’d tried to sheathe herself in. Back at Will’s place, they celebrated with dinner and a small cake. Mary loved it and late that evening after she sang Mary a lullaby, Natalia sat next to her bed for nearly an hour. She was there when Will came to find her.

“You’ve been a million miles away today,” he murmured as he tugged her into their room.

“Well I’m here now,” she promised. Then distracted him as they stripped each other out of their clothes. Maybe she made too much of it, but it would be her last night with Will as well. Early the next morning, she rose before he did, showered and dressed before fixing breakfast. Leaving it on a warmer, she also left a note that she had to run errands and would be back later.

Then headed out without looking back.

It had taken her three months to track the pattern of the Brooklyn Heights strangler, but she knew his favorite places to hunt and she knew his preferred types. It took her less than two days after leaving Will and Mary to find him. She let him “take her.” It saved another young woman and once he had her secured in his basement torture chamber, she freed herself and killed him.

The setup he had gave her everything she needed to dismember his body. From there, she left in disguise to get what she needed to dissolve the body. If she had access to a furnace as she had in Russia, it would be easier.

Once that was done, she stripped clean the basement, eliminating all signs of his identity save for his little book of trophies—that she placed somewhere to be found—with trophies from her.

The news had already announced that another woman had gone missing, a young mother. But there were no photographs, just a description. Someday, she would apologize to Will—maybe. She’d made sure there was nothing for him to use to identify her. The ring would be key.

Stark had even located a body for her before the week prior, and she had it ready to go and dumped it where it would be found eventually. She’d handled battering the face as many of the other bodies had been, removing the teeth—not that they would have dental records, but Natalie Fitzpatrick didn’t have any fillings.

Not all of the strangler’s victims had been found. Only a handful, but the trophy book told her he’d killed far more than they realized. Leaving the ring there had been an ache. The marriage wasn’t real, Will didn’t even know  _ her _ , but it didn’t matter, this was going to hurt him and that she regretted. But it would also protect him and Mary, so she didn’t stop herself.

A last stop in Brooklyn, where Natalie Rogers never told the landlady about her marriage or move. The apartment was staged to make it look like they still lived there. A mystery. Another disappearance.

A dead-end if James tracked her here save for a few key items she hid on a neighboring roof in a hidey-hole. Someone should know they’d existed. By the time the sun rose five days after she’d left Mary and Will, she was ready to leave Natalie Rogers and Natalie Fitzpatrick behind.

It was time.

The blast of exhaust clogged her nose, but she lifted her chin as she walked. A hat from one vendor, a scarf from another and with each block she walked, she peeled away the layers to become someone else. A wallet from that man, a watch from that one, and a bump to drop something into another bag and lift out a blouse. Then ID from a woman who asked her directions.

Ten blocks later, she was someone else with everything she needed to manufacture an ID. Turning, she looked at the Brooklyn Bridge as the sun cut right through it.

Her next stop: Los Angeles.

~~~

The Widow allowed herself to be seen by an asset from the Russian consulate. A glimpse, nothing more. But word would get back to them. She set the stage in an apartment as though she had been hiding there for months, then abandoned it hastily. Twenty-four hours after letting herself be spotted, she boarded a flight for Hawaii. From there, she made her way to Okinawa. Then to China.

A month after Los Angeles, she made noise in Shanghai. There were a dozen Red Room and KGB assets in the city.

There were zero when she finished.

Letting her trail go cold there, she headed for the Balkans and a doctor she knew. He sterilized her while she kept a gun on him. She could not risk going back to them whole. It was a most unpleasant procedure. Pain could be compartmentalized and she tucked everything into that compartment. The child. The cabin. Even the man she left the child with.

The doctor had once been part of the Red Room program. He wouldn’t tell anyone what he’d done because he was dead when it was over. She didn’t dare take the time to heal properly; Morozov thought she’d healed because she’d stayed out of combat.

So she found fights.

She killed her way across the Balkans before going dark and making her way to Italy and down to the southern coasts—to Amalfi. For months she had led them on a chase, tracking the news to see where they followed her. In Amalfi, she rented a cottage on a narrow but secluded section.

No one else to see.

No witnesses to scrub.

And she waited, leaving to only periodically eliminate targets who moved in too close to her base. The fights helped, she stayed wounded and the bleeding in her soul scarred over.

When James came.

The Widow was ready.

~~~

As they dragged her into the room, she’d been quiet. Playing possum. The time from Amalfi to Budapest had let her bones begin to knit back together. Then he’d broken her arm again when she’d slipped. After that, she’d gone still. The Soldier never took his eyes off her. She met him, stare for stare until the pain took her again. In Budapest, she roused as they pulled her off the transport.

She knew this place. They didn’t have her secure enough but she didn’t struggle. If anything she just played along with it. There would be a moment. She might only get the one, but she would take it. There were people here—specialists, technicians—the men who ran the machines.

These were the men who took James from her.

She wanted him back. But he didn’t know her. Not anymore. Whatever they’d done—they’d stolen him away.

For that, she would kill them.

It might take her decades, but she’d kill every damn one of them.

The moment came, a moment when they dismissed the Soldier. He was their puppet. Forcing him to watch wouldn’t punish him. So no, they sent him away.

When they loosened the chains, she struck. The first died when she crushed his windpipe. The second with a pencil jammed right through his eye. The third choked on the chain she wrapped around his neck, even as she locked her thighs around the fourth.

Shouts came from the hallway and she was on the mechanic before the door splintered open. She’d taken a gun from one of the guards. Three more went down in rapid succession and the mechanic she put a bullet right through his brain even as she tumbled over him.

A groin shot. A double-tap to the chest. Another headshot. And she spun, gun in hand as the door blasted inward and then stopped. James was right there, the hot barrel of her gun pressed against his head.

And she couldn’t.

She couldn’t pull the trigger.

She couldn’t put a bullet in his brain.

He peeled the gun out of her nerveless fingers. Then his metal hand was around her throat and she was being pushed into the chair. She closed her eyes. She failed.

She failed.

Blood in her mouth. Blood soaking the air. A hand on her face, squeezing her jaw. More hands moved to snap the shackles into place. Wrists. Forearms. Ankles. Calves. Thighs.

More blood trickled from her nose.

Better blood than tears. Steeling herself, she reached for every ounce of discipline she possessed and forced her eyes open to stare into the empty, cold gaze of the Soldier. Her Soldat. He was gone. He stared at her as if she were nothing more than a stranger… a mark.

Metal prongs dug into her scalp, the restraints locked down her wrists, forearms, chest, legs, and ankles. She couldn’t even twist in the seat. The room stank of antiseptic-coated copper.

Her Soldat was gone.

So many thoughts tore through her in that moment. So much she wanted to tell him. To save for him. And she didn’t dare think them. Didn’t dare let a single whisper of them breeze through her.

Broken. Her James was broken.

She was about to join him.

This was what she’d wanted.

No… she couldn’t lie to herself. She’d wanted to get him out, but instead… She pushed those thoughts away. Compartmentalize. Forget. The choices she’d made, the life she’d lived, the… Pain speared her heart. It was over.

The guards who’d flooded the room with their cattle prods and weapons didn’t matter.

The bodies being dragged away didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was the moment. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow.

“It’s okay,” she told him even if he didn’t know her anymore. He’d remembered once and if he did again, she wanted him to know. “It’s okay.” Then the rubber guard was in her mouth.

She was Natalia Alianova Romanova.

She would only ever be her.

The Black Widow.

This was her choice…

~~~

_ 1977 _

_ _

The explosion rocked the building. The idiots had gone earlier. The floor beneath her feet disappeared and she was falling, then a metal hand snapped out and caught her. He pulled her up and glared.

“That wasn’t my fault,” she told him.

“No,” he said, agreeing. Then they both looked to where their  _ team _ was supposed to be. “Failure is not an option.”

“Yes, James,” she teased. “Shall we punish their failure?”

A single nod.

Some day, he would tease with her. If she were very lucky, she’d get a smile.

_ 1981 _

_ _

Natalia perched on the edge of the bed, the television tuned to the wedding being broadcast from Great Britain. James cleaned his weapons and eyed her then the television.

“Why are we watching this?”

“Because I am bored with nuclear testing and protecting idiot scientists.” They were there on a ‘fact-finding’ mission disguised as babysitting. Natalia’s primary job was to vet the scientists at the facility because of rumors of possible defection. James was there as her backup.

It was a boring assignment.

“And that dress is ridiculous,” she said, propping her chin on her hand, elbow on her knee as she watched the train unfolded. It had to be several meters long. There would be no way to fight in that monstrosity. She probably couldn’t run in it either.

“They are royals,” James said with a shrug. “It matters little to us.”

“We used to have royals,” she reminded him. “Tzars and Empresses—the Romanovs.”

“Does that make you a tzarevna, Natalia?” Despite his playful inquiry, she flinched.

“No,” she said abruptly. “I’m nobody.” Then she turned off the television because they had no time for fairytales.

_ 1984 _

_ _

“Don’t worry, Natalia,” Leonid told her as they pushed James into the cryotube. “You will be next. Put her in the chair. Now wait… she should see the rest.”

They tried to lock her down as they shuttled James into place. Stripping him down, leaving him nothing save for his skin and his arm. His blank eyes stared back at her, pale and empty.

It was not their first trip to the chair, but the life in those eyes—it was missing. How Leonid discovered them, she had no idea. But he’d been waiting for them when they returned. They’d been hit on all sides by darts. James had taken many of them, trying to shield her. The force of the narcotics had taken him down.

“Ready to comply,” James said in those empty, dead tones.

“Do you finally see, Natalia? You? He? You are nothing but tools for Mother Russia. You were supposed to be the greatest of us, and all you are is his whore—so look well, Widow. This is the very last time you will see him.”

It was not a threat in Leonid’s words, but the promise in his tone that sent adrenaline surging through her system. She hadn’t stopped struggling, but she redoubled her efforts, dislocating her thumb to pull a hand free from the shackles and then she hit the button to free the others.

Surging forward, she struck Leonid two swift kicks, her knee to his forehead and then she struck back at those coming for her. Everything was a weapon. The medical tools on the silver tray she flung with deadly accuracy.

Two more went down.

Then another.

And another.

She disarmed one and shot the three technicians. Shouting came from beyond the file room. The facility at Azzano was huge.

One of the guards pushed his way up and she brought the gun across his face, shattering bone.

Finally, she reached James. He still stared at her but there was no animation. With trembling fingers, she reached to touch him, to call him and then pain ripped up her spine as electricity surged through her.

Her body convulsed as it repeated. It burned. Again and again.

Finally, she collapsed and stared up at Leonid before he slammed his fist into her face. And the world went dark.

~~~

_ 1985 _

_ _

She was in Japan, sitting down at a bar—tired and ready for a break when a man sank down onto the seat next to her. She ignored him and his cigar. When the bartender came by, he ordered a bottle of whiskey. “And vodka for the lady.”

“The lady can order her own,” she informed him. His accent was American, northern. Perhaps Canadian and he spoke flawless English.

“Then the lady can keep the bottle,” the man said with a grunt. “You look like you could use a drink.”

She could use a drink. She’d been on the move for seven months, eliminated a dozen hit squads and kept going, never sleeping in the same place twice if she could help it.

“I’m Logan,” he said after a beat.

“I don’t care.” But when the bartender set the vodka in front of her, fresh and unopened, she unscrewed the cap and poured herself a full glass then tossed the whole thing back.

Logan sat there the rest of the night. They drank until they had to order two new bottles and the bar eventually closed.

“You need a place to stay?” Logan asked as she headed away from the bar and into the darkness.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Wouldn’t have asked if it didn’t matter,” the man said.

And she turned to face him. “What do you want?”

“I’d take your name, but I’m guessing you don’t want to share.” He gave her a faint, almost sardonic grin.

“I’m nobody.”

“No, everyone is somebody. What you are is tired and what I have is a place you can sleep.”

“Do you think you’ll get something out of the bargain?”

Logan snorted. “No,” he said. “Not even close. But you can follow me and see where I go. You can case it and find out if I’m safe or not. Or you can just come get out of the chill and get some sleep. No one will bother you.”

For some reason, she wanted to believe him, but if something was too good to be true—it usually was.

“Thanks,” she said. “But no thanks.”

A week later, he found her again. In Okinawa and as in Japan, he bought the booze and settled at her table.

“Are you following me?” she asked.

“Was just gonna ask you the same thing.” He smirked and lit up his cigar.

She opened the pack of American cigarettes she’d bought and when he offered her a light she took it. “For the record, I’m not,” she said as she exhaled smoke.

“Good to know.”

They drank until the bar closed and when he offered her a place, she didn’t bother to discuss it, she just left.

A month after that he sat down at her table in Vancouver. She’d stayed on the move, but there he was and he bought the booze again.

“I’m beginning to think you like me,” she said, almost welcoming the familiar face even if she had no idea what his game was.

“Nah,” he said. “I’m just not a fan of drinking alone.”

She snorted.

She still didn’t take him up on the offer of somewhere to sleep.

Though she did see him every night for the next two weeks before she told him she was leaving the next day.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Where to?”

“Don’t know,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Three weeks later, he sat down across from her in Los Angeles. “This is a shit hole,” he complained. “And hot.”

She chuckled and paid for the booze this time. But she didn’t linger long.

Several days later, she finished taking out a Red Room doctor and the cartel head who had been shielding him when his men swarmed her position and Logan showed up, sans booze.

The claws were impressive and when the fight was over, she said, “Natalia.”

“Good to meet you, Natty,” he said and she grimaced then spit out some of the blood in her mouth.

“That’s a terrible nickname.”

“Took me two continents and a lot of booze to get a name, you’re stuck with Natty.”

She’d chuckled.

They found a cantina and drank them out of all their booze and that night, she crashed on the spare bed in his room. The next morning, he said, “I’m heading down to Australia for a few weeks. Got a job—if you’re interested in not following me some more.”

“A job?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Doesn’t pay shit, the conditions are terrible, but there’ll be booze and asses to kick. What do you say?”

“Sure—it’ll be fun.”


	71. Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and his team get answers while the team in Wakanda waits for Nat to wake up.

**Chapter Seventy-One**

_ Justice _

**Logan**

It would have been nice if Ross sang like a canary. Instead, he screeched like a banshee, but he screeched information. Red-faced, sweating, and damn near in tears, he told them about an organization that approached him after he’d been disgraced—an organization that wanted to put the Avengers in check.

Yuri Brevlov was just one name. His job had been to befriend Banner, something Ross hadn’t found out about until recently. But they couldn’t control The Other Guy. For that, they needed Natty. But Ross wanted Natty dead.

There were others, he didn’t know their names. At first, he’d agreed because he wanted to find out more about them then use it as leverage to reclaim his influence. But they played him.

“Yeah, cry me a river, Bub. They played you. What are their plans? And who are the rest of them?” Logan was already over the interrogation.

“I don’t know,” Ross said. “They’re a shadownet.”

Hill folded her arms. “Shadownet? You mean Dark Web?”

“Yes, they recruited me—Brevlov was my contact. I never saw the others, they mask their names and their identities. They all have an ax to grind with the Avengers.”

“All of them or specific ones?” Fury asked.

Remy rolled his eyes. Yeah, Logan agreed with the Swamp Rat on that one. It wouldn’t matter if it was specific. You targeted one, you were going to get them all.

Panting, Ross said, “I don’t know. Some hate Stark because he’s arrogant. Some hate the Soldier because they think he didn’t pay for his crimes. Others think Rogers is a freak or Maximoff. Some are after SHIELD or Romanoff for her work before and after SHIELD.”

“That’s a lot of someones. Give me a number,” Hill ordered.

“I don’t know—” She covered his hand with her own and whatever she’d given him had been hella effective because he acted like he’d been scalded.

“Give me a number. How many have you discovered or had a conversation with?”

“Nine…” Ross’s head fell forward, his flushed face had gone gray and clammy. “Nine.”

With more patience than Logan felt, she pursued that particular line of questioning. “Tell me everything you remember about each—male, female, nationality, contact points—everything.”

“This stopped being entertaining a few screams ago,” Remy said absently. “I’m gonna go exploring and find food.” Translation the Swamp Rat was going to search the place. Remy shot him a look and Logan nodded once.

Ross described the nine and by described, he meant offered them scant details. He’d truly been out of the loop. The player made a pawn. But he’d been the one to drop Bruce back in the mountains and to set up the armed groups in Los Angeles. The plan had been to trigger him, but there’d been a news story about the Avengers being in L.A.

“The Avengers weren’t supposed to be there,” he admitted. “But he saw it and he wasn’t as easy to control and then—he took off.”

“Wasn’t—you could control Banner before?” Hill’s expression turned severe.

The former general went mute.

She rolled her fingers in a tapping gesture against the back of his hand and Ross damn near sobbed. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Boiling water mean anything to you?”

Murdock released a small smile.

“Consider yourself lucky that it’s not the real thing. Now explain controlling Banner.”

“I don’t know how he did it… Brevlov worked it out. He could manipulate Banner, but not the beast. But as long as Banner was calm it wasn’t a problem, it’s been months without an incident.”

“So what triggered him specifically?”

“Romanoff on the news?” Fury asked.

“I don’t know,” Ross admitted. “They were focusing on a lot of them—including Barnes.”

Logan frowned and Hill glanced at Fury.

“What location were you at and what time?”

Ross answered that almost gratefully and Logan turned to Murdock. “Watch them.”

Then he stepped out and followed his nose toward the kitchen where Remy was actually cooking.

“Hey Cranky Pants,” Remy opened the fridge and pulled out an ice-cold beer and slid it across the counter to him. “He’s got the expensive stuff.”

Phone in his hand, Logan lifted his chin toward the pots. “What are you making?”

“Étouffée, he’s got all the stuff.” He took a long swallow of his own beer before he went back to his preparations.

Logan hit the contact on his phone.

“I am still tracking the interrogation, Mr. Logan,” Friday informed him. “And I’m queuing up the video for that timeframe—we have four to choose from based on the local channels in that region. It will be more if we look at satellite coverage.”

“Got it,” he said, before taking another pull on the beer and then wiping his hand on his jacket. There was still some blood on his fingers that stained pink with the condensation from the glass bottle.

“Sending to your phone, Mr. Logan.”

“You do remember I said there was no Mr. right? It’s just Logan.”

“My apologies, Logan.” The Irish lilt amused him, particularly because he was talking to a computer. Because when the AI came to take over the world, he planned to have at least this one on his side.

Setting his phone down, he switched to the messages and then hit play on the videos. Remy came to lean against the counter and they watched a series of different news clips in the window of time indicated.

Most focused on the Los Angeles firefight.

Most had the same theme, too, Avengers facing heavy fire in downtown Los Angeles siege. Black Widow popped up a couple of times, Barton they couldn’t find. Iron Man was everywhere—showoff—then there was Captain America and Natty’s hubby.

“Logan,” Friday actually paused the video. “I am sending a quinjet to retrieve you and the former secretary, it will arrive within the next three hours.”

“Thanks, Friday—”

“Hey,” Remy said. “How’s Boo?”

“One moment, Mr. LeBeau.”

They waited in silence, then Barton came on the line. “You two secure?”

Logan glanced over his shoulder. “Not entirely, just give us a thumbnail.”

“She’s resting and taking it easy.”

Natty hadn’t taken it easy a day since he’d met her, not on an injury. Swamp Rat frowned. “Give her a message for us?”

“Depends on the message.”

“She owes us drinks,” Logan said.

“Might be a while, she’s going through a dry spell.”

Natty wasn’t awake to get the message. His breath exhaled on a growl. “I’ll check in later, got to deliver some bad juju back to the States.”

“You found him?”

“One of them. Bigger fish. Still looking for the smaller one. Might have to get ready to host a dinner party,” Logan chose his words carefully. As annoying as Barton could be, he was Natty’s people and he’d never let her down. Logan could appreciate that. “Lots of guests.”

“Fuck—how many?”

“Rumor says nine or more.”

“You just can’t give me good news, can you?”

“Was just about to say the same thing to you—look after my girl.”

“Always do.”

“Hey….” Swamp Rat said. “Give Boo a kiss from us.”

Barton chuckled. “You just want to get me in trouble.”

“Maybe,” Remy said, his grin unrepentant even if his dark eyes were worried. “Or maybe I want to drop by and give her one myself.”

“Keep in touch,” Barton said. “Hopefully we’ll be able to make plans, soon.”

Then he was off the phone and Logan exhaled. “Finish making the food. I’ll move them along.”

“What about the videos?” Swamp Rat asked.

“Not much we can do about it. Might be better to let Friday and the others handle it. I don’t know the guy and from what I’ve seen, I’d rather I didn’t.” Even more, he’d rather they all left Natty alone but didn’t see that happening any time soon.

“Hey—Cranky Pants,” Remy stopped him before he made it a couple of steps.

“What?”

“What do you think of Maria?”

Logan snorted. “That she swings more for Natty than you. So go wide, Swamp Rat. Go wide.”

“Damn,” Remy grumbled. “Get them to finish up. Food will be ready in twenty and I’ll do a sweep of our guests.”

They’d secured the guards before heading inside, all but Fury’s plant. Him they let go and he’d gotten out.

Back in Ross’s office, the questioning had ended. Hill eyed him when he re-entered. “He passed out.”

“That happens.” The old man had lasted longer than he thought he would. “Company’s coming to pick us up and deliver the package.”

Fury frowned. “That’s not what we agreed on.”

“We didn’t agree to shit, Bub. I’m taking him back with us. You can hitch a ride or you can stay here. Doesn’t mean anything to me either way.”

“You sure have a way with people,” Hill commented after Fury strode out and Logan shrugged.

“I’m a regular ray of sunshine. How long before that crap wears off?”

“Not much longer,” Hill asked. “Unless we want to give him another dose.”

Tempting.

**Clint**

At the twelve-hour mark, Strange declared there’d been improvement, as did Shuri. Nat’s metabolism was back in the range they wanted it, her cardiac and respiratory functions slowed markedly though her brain activity remained high. No one had slept since the incident and while they’d alerted him after the fact, he hadn’t faulted them.

Frankly, Clint would rather they were focused on Nat than him during something like that. Neural tissue regenerating, neural connections being made, every time Tony or Strange detailed the impossible that Natasha pulled off, Clint would clench a little tighter.

At what point did her remarkable healing begin to fail? Radiation poisoning, alien possession, decades of torture, and now this… Was there a shelf life? A number of lives?

_ Like a cat? _ The fact his mind tracked there didn’t surprise him and he scrubbed a hand over his face. Wanda and Peter were half-asleep on the sofa, leaning into each other. A part of him wanted to snarl at the kid, more a kneejerk reaction than anything. He wasn’t going to do it, they were leaning on each other emotionally, too.

Probably not a bad plan. The adults around them were fraying. Vision hadn’t joined them since he’d stayed with Banner.

Fuck.

Banner.

They needed to deal with him, too.

Wanda cast him a worried look and Clint shook his head. He was fine. Despite the fact, he had a dozen things on his mind. With a little nod, she glanced at Peter and then half-closed her eyes again. Peter’s time with them was ticking down. He had to go back to school in a couple of days and he didn’t want to leave.

That would be a bridge to cross when they got there.

The only small break they’d taken from Natasha was to let Friday brief them on Ross’ interrogation. Steve had only raised his eyebrows at the fact Maria used the same shit on Ross that had been used on Natasha by the Mandarin.

Personally, Clint didn’t have a problem with it, but he could see where it was a morally gray area for Steve. They didn’t have the luxury of taking the high ground. More worrying was the idea that Yuri Brevlov—there was a name Clint would gladly never had heard again—might have some way of controlling Bruce even if he couldn’t control The Other Guy.

“We save it,” Tony said. “Bruce is staying put and for the moment, he’s cooperating. Let’s get Red past this next part and then we brief him.”

No one argued, not even Bucky. Then again, if it had been up to Bucky, they’d probably have just dropped Bruce out at thirty thousand feet somewhere. Stretching his arms up, Clint hooked his hands behind his neck. His shoulder was stiff and so was his leg.

Pacing slowly, he stretched both. The cloak still seemed to maintain its vigilance and Dr. Wizard didn’t know why other than something else might be wrong. Way to vague that up.

Tony had four different screens up and despite his red, bloodshot eyes, he hadn’t taken his gaze off them. They were all in some stage of frozen, no one wanting to leave or move. Everyone watched her cryotube for a hint of movement—of which there had been thankfully none since she opened her eyes earlier. Even Shuri had lingered for quite a while. Though she was currently curled up asleep on a pallet and T’Challa had joined them to stand vigil, Clint couldn’t relax.

“We have increased activity in the hippocampus,” Strange said quietly and Clint felt more than saw Bucky tense and lean forward. His movement alerted Steve, fortunately, the kids weren’t quite that on edge.

“I see it,” Tony said. “Nanites are all working exactly as intended—we’ve got a full run of S.P.A.R.K. going. She’s reconstructing memories.”

Wanda had mentioned she was having nightmares earlier and Clint shot her a look. He raised his eyebrows and she shifted her glance to the cryotube and frowned. The faint shake of her head wasn’t comforting.

Not a nightmare, but then again he’d seen Natasha tortured and beaten without making a sound or letting on that she was in pain. Her nightmares were not always about waking up screaming, if anything, she woke up deadly silent.

The kind of control it took to leash even her pain so fiercely that she could control it when asleep had been a singular factor confirming his decision to save her had been the right one. Even when she grew intractable or difficult or worse—when a fugue hit her.

Fugues.

How many of those had been from Richardson or Pierce tampering with her? Fury’s tales of her trying to kill herself fit in that context. Natasha would try to cut the cord herself and if she’d been reacting to some command they’d given her or fought it?

Logan would continue the hunt for Richardson, Clint had slid him that info to go with the hunt for Ross. He wasn’t sure when Friday brought him and Remy in on this, but Clint would take their help. Like he’d told the others, Logan might be unpredictable but he was damn fond of Natasha. There wasn’t much those two wouldn’t do for each other.

“Reconstructing?” Clint asked after Tony didn’t continue.

He sighed. “She’s—reforging the connections to where the memories are stored.” Moving one of the screens he indicated areas highlighted on it. “This was all damaged and scarred. One of the ways they managed to block memories was to sever neural connections, that of course then generated scar tissue, that meant the memories weren’t forgotten so much as lost. Now that we’ve removed the scar tissue and she’s healing those mental pathways, she’s reconstructing the memories.”

“So she’s—essentially replaying it all in order?”

“Maybe,” Tony said with a grimace. “There’s no way to be one hundred percent certain. Our brains aren’t built like file servers with specific folders for specific items, they’re more like a table with cross-references—” The other man paused. “Do you want me to explain or just say I don’t know?”

“I don’t know is good.” Even if it didn’t fully prepare him for what she might be like when she woke up. “She’s not going to just walk out of this, is she?”

“Probably not,” Strange said. “The initial injuries have healed remarkably well, but the regular trauma and the healing she’s doing now—it’s a tremendous energy load. The benefit of cryostasis is her slowed metabolism.”

“Yes,” T’Challa stated. “But when we begin to wake her, we will need to begin lines for fluids and nutrients immediately to stave off shock.”

“The world is going to be a little hard to understand at first,” Bucky said, his solemn voice arresting all of them. “Senses are dulled, even thought processes. For the most part—you can be very cooperative unless there’s a sense of threat particularly if the waking is brutal or abrupt…”

There was a warning there.

“We will be doing our best to not wake her that way,” Tony said firmly. “But we’re all going to be here and we’re not going to let her hurt herself. That said, it might take her some time to process everything.”

In other words, don’t expect her to wake up and be ready to roll out.

Got it.

Then again, this was Natasha. He’d seen her do impossible things before.

“Tony,” Clint said in a low voice.

“I don’t know,” he answered the unspoken question. “I don’t. We passed the twelve-hour window and there’s definite improvement but we’re not ready to rouse her yet. Soon, I hope. But I don’t know when that is.”

Soon, he hoped.

If there was justice for her, she’d wake up fine and with the answers she so desperately needed—those answers would be good news.

That would be perfect.

“Thanks, Tony,” he said, patting his shoulder. “We need food. I’m going to get food for everyone.”

“I’ll take you,” T’Challa said. “Food could help everyone.”

T’Challa seemed to be going through the same thing Clint was. They needed to affect something.

Food it was. 

**Wanda**

Twice, she half-reached out toward Natasha and both times the cloak shifted arresting her attention. It never actually turned to face her, but she could almost feel its awareness. It might not be fully sentient, at least not in a manner she would ascribe to a person or an animal, but it seemed conscious of her or maybe mindful of her desire to help Natasha.

Peter’s hand remained interlocked with hers. They’d kissed, talked, and wandered for a little while—not much of a walk really—and then they sat here and hadn’t left. The sun had set and even as Clint left with T’Challa to find food, Wanda fought the sleep inching at her.

Next to her, Peter dozed, but he’d been too restless to truly drift off. Bucky and Steve were both wound up tight, worry locked up behind their fierce gazes and controlled expressions.

Tony wasn’t much better, he kept flashing back to images she’d really rather not see. Images of Natasha hurt or worse—visions of her teasing him and laughing. It was like his mind couldn’t decide whether to tease or torment him and not once did he lose focus on the work he was doing.

Even the news that Ross was in custody had done little to ease the tension in the room or the men. She hated the fact she was picking up on it at all. It was a gross invasion of privacy.

_ “Then stop looking.”  _ Strange’s voice whispered against her ear and she cut a look toward him. He was sitting calmly, his legs crossed, but his eyes were closed. Had she imagined it?  _ “No, you are not imagining it, but you are projecting loudly.” _

Wanda frowned.  _ “I apologize.” _

The almost mental shrug resonated even as his body remained still. The dissonance disturbed her.

_ “You have a great deal of raw power, Ms. Maximoff. I would caution you to find a way to bind it.” _

_ “I have control.” _

_ “I said nothing of your control, but your desires. Power feeds on emotion and your emotions are volatile, to say the least.” _

Irritated, she focused on him. His expression remained unruffled and his eyes closed.  _ “I care.” _

_ “So do I.” _

Not that she could tell.

_ “Precisely. Passion can be a tool, but only if you are the one to wield it and don’t allow it to wield you. Loss can fuel you as well, but make you act in haste. Do you know all you are capable of?” _

No. She didn’t but it wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have with Strange. He’d been so intense around her and the weight of his measured disapproval hadn’t muted even if he’d gone silent, until now.

_ “That you cannot answer tells me you need to train and to discover your strengths and your flaws or you will do more harm than good even when all you intend is to save.”  _ Despite the harsh reality in his words, his tone was no cooler than Natasha’s when she corrected Wanda in training.

_ “You sound very certain.” _

_ “That would be because I am. I have trained in many skills from medicine to sorcery. You do not succeed only because you desire to, you must use your desire to ensure you succeed. Talent is fine, skill is vital.” _

_ “Am I hearing you because I’m listening or because you’re projecting?” _

For a moment, a smile flickered across his lips or maybe she imagined it.  _ “Why don’t you tell me?” _

The tangle of powerful emotions in the room made all of their thoughts louder, she had to actively block them out. But Strange’s emotions weren’t—he was a whisper and yet she heard him over the gale of the storm.  _ “You are projecting, but it’s because I can listen.” _

_ “Very good. Now, you must concentrate on not listening. Part of your worry for Natasha is keeping you keenly focused on her and the thoughts of those around you are also focused on her. It’s influencing your need to intercede.” _

_ “You’re saying that because they all want her to wake and I want her to wake, I can’t stop trying to reach her even when I’m actively trying to not reach out to her?”  _ Natasha had been very clear. She did not want Wanda in her head and Wanda cared about her too much to disobey that request. Especially after Natasha shared that memory with her again, a memory that had left her gasping and aching on the inside. She’d seen that dance several times in her dreams and only in the last few days had she been able to dispel that shadow.

_ “In a sense. Your power is unique, yet you have an astounding amount of mental power and at the same time, an intense control over elemental basics, but no training beyond what you have taught yourself.” _

_ “And what Natasha has helped me with.” _

_ “While I admire her tremendously and she possesses extreme mental fortitude, you need a proper teacher.” _

“Wanda?” Peter tugged at her attention and she blinked at him as the room came back into focus. “You all right?”

“Sorry, I think I was lost in my thoughts.”

Steve gave her a sympathetic look. “You kids should probably think about going to bed after Clint brings food back.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” Peter said, giving her hand a squeeze once before releasing it to rub at his face. “I need to be here.”

“Pete,” Tony said, turning away from the screens to look at him. “We can call you back up when we’re ready to take her out of her cryostasis.”

“It’s a feeling,” Peter said without looking at any of them directly.

“A feeling like the night she was taken from the party?” Though his expression didn’t change, alarm seemed to edge him.

“Yes and no,” Peter said, his expression tensing. A part of her wanted to take his hand again, but she resisted it. More focused on not slipping up especially after Strange pointed it out. “I just—I want to be here. It’s been days and after what happened earlier and the fact I have to leave soon.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Tony told him.

“Tony,” Steve said. “We don’t get to tell him that.”

“Yes, we do,” Tony said. “I can talk to Aunt May, if you want to be here, we’ll figure something out.”

“I didn’t say that to start a fight,” Peter said bouncing off the sofa, agitation almost shimmered over him as he paced. “I just feel like—I can’t even explain it.”

“You don’t have to,” Bucky told him, cutting off Steve and Tony both. “You’re worried about her, Pal. We all are. Tony’s right, you want to stay, you stay. But Natalia would want you to look after yourself regardless.”

“Yeah well, she’s not going to be exactly thrilled you haven’t been sleeping,” Peter volleyed back and Wanda had to bite back a smile as Tony chuckled and then Steve did.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed with him. “But she won’t be remotely surprised.”

Some of the tension around Peter evaporated as he grinned. “Have you ever wanted to see if you could really just tick her off?”

“No,” Steve and Tony said in the same breath, but Bucky only shrugged.

“I have, it is not fun. I don’t recommend it.”

It was Strange who chuckled then.  _ “And they resolve it without interference, it is a good balance. Powerful emotions can make for impulsive decisions, but you have to know when to act and not react.” _

_ “Now you really sound like Natasha.” _ Longing unfolded in her and she glanced at her friend.  _ “I miss her.” _

_ “Have faith, Ms. Maximoff. She has made it this far beyond all odds. I think we will see her sooner rather than later.” _

_ “How can you be so sure?” _

_ “Look at the cloak.” _

Peter was saying something to Tony and there was a discussion about movies or possibly a game. But the atmosphere was a bit lighter, a little easier to breathe and the cloak, which had been so rigid, had relaxed almost. It was hard to describe. It no longer hovered between all of them and the cryotube. Rather it had taken a place next to it again.

_ “It was worried about me.” _

_ “Possibly,” _ Strange agreed with her, no judgment in the voice she heard.  _ “It has become very protective of her and she is in a vulnerable state.” _

_ “I won’t try to go in her mind, she asked me for my word and I gave it.” _ That meant something.

_ “I believe you. When you’re ready—I’ll teach you.” _ Then he went quiet and she was left to stare at him in silence, but before his offer could really sink in, Clint was back with T’Challa and Shuri woke because they were all being too loud.

But there was laughter and a few smiles and just a little less fear. 

**Stephen**

The changing climate amongst Natasha’s family was a welcome respite. The Avengers were a volatile enough group without the intemperance of their worry and fear bleeding over into everything. For most of them, that emotion turned into anger. Minimal sleep and meditation had gotten him through the last few days, but like the Wakandan neuro-specialist and Shuri, the technical genius and princess, Stephen remained determined to see this through to the end.

Stark’s nanites had been invaluable in supporting Natasha’s own system as her mind responded to the electrical charges stimulating the collapse of scar tissue the reformation of neural tissue. He’d never seen anything like it and as fascinating as he found it, his deeper concern was that the repairs left her with all of her mental faculties.

So far, so good.

However, he leaned away from celebrating until they’d roused her from the chamber and tested her responses. The fact Sergeant Barnes cautioned them against expecting her to be fully functional when she woke was a wise choice. Even coma patients when they roused did not have swift reactions.

Yet, Natasha had defied odds on so many levels perhaps she would prove him wrong on this one. He would appreciate that irony, like Wanda he actually found himself missing Natasha’s commentary. She had a wicked sense of humor and a kind of blunt directness he’d enjoyed.

The arrival of the food and the increasing warmth in the conversation added splashes of humor to those waiting. Weariness held them all in a tight fist. After they’d consumed the meal and indulged in a few rounds of cards, the children bunked down on bedrolls.

Stark settled back into his monitoring as though he could will her into wakefulness by studying the readouts from the nanites and the bioelectrical feedback as neural tissue filled in and healed. The bleeds in her brain had all begun to self-correct without the severe hemorrhaging that would typically lead to death in other patients.

The archer stretched out and put his head back, arms folded as he dropped into an uneasy sleep. The captain had pulled out a sketchpad though he didn’t seem to do much but stare sightlessly at the page. The only one not seeking another activity was Sergeant Barnes.

His singular focus remained on the cryotube. In the few conversations they’d shared, the other man indicated a deep awareness of what it was like to be inside of one. That made sense, he had the most experience of any of them present. He knew what it was like and like the boy who hadn’t wanted to leave, he did not want to miss a second.

Stephen settled into a meditative state, rousing each hour to scan the readouts then returning to the restful state. The sun was high again and the group had taken turns going to shower, change and return. Food had been consumed and the readouts were stable on every screen.

The rapid neural activity had also dropped to more normal levels.

“I’m reading this right, aren’t I?” Stark asked when he’d returned from his shower. Stephen had taken one earlier and it had finished what his meditations started, restored him.

“She has reached equilibrium.”

Seven days, eighteen hours and four minutes after entering cryostasis. It was an incredible feat.

“Equilibrium?” Steve asked.

“We think her brain is done,” Stark answered. “Friday confirm for me what the nanites are doing.”

“They are going dormant, Boss as their tasks complete. Electrical activity is reading normal on all levels. Currently, Nat appears to be in stage three of a sleep cycle.”

Stage three.

She wasn’t in the rapid eye movement phase. It was the deepest level of sleep.

“Scans of her skull show marked improvement in bone density and structure, it will be tender but the vibranium and her own healing have fused the bone neatly.” Shuri indicated on the maps.

A’dyemi joined them. “The last two CAT scans have shown all healthy tissue, no signs of the striations or scarring. There is good blood flow and all autonomic functions are within the ranges we want. Blood pressure and respiration all normal for cryostasis, no increased heart rate or pain responses noted.”

“One more full-body scan? And CT?” Stark asked. “Make sure we’re all in agreement?”

Stephen nodded. It took them less than an hour. All their results were the same. The nanites in her brain had gone dormant. Even her bruises had vanished over the course of the week.

“I believe we are ready to bring the Russian in from the cold,” Shuri teased, but even her smile couldn’t quite stir them all. They were practically holding their breath. Nodding to herself, she said, “This is going to take a couple of hours, we’re going to start warming her and we’re going to do it in stages. It’s easier on her if we don’t do it all at once.”

“But she’s going to wake up?” Peter asked.

“That is the plan,” Shuri told him. “Would you like me to walk you through the process?”

He bounced up from his position and crossed to her terminal with Stark a half-step behind.

Stephen crossed his mental fingers and then eyed the cloak. It hadn’t moved away from its spot, but it wasn’t reacting badly to the idea of her waking.

Good sign.

He’d take it.

“Thank you,” Captain Rogers said from beside him and Stephen glanced at him. “I don’t think any of us have really said that yet.”

“She has,” Stephen told him. “Let’s save the gratitude until we’re sure this worked.”

_ “Is she going to be okay?” _ Ms. Maximoff asked him, her mental voice intent but softer this time.

_ “I don’t know,” _ he told her honestly.  _ “It is my hope that she is.” _

_ “I really wanted a better answer than that.” _ Just a mild amount of chastisement.

_ “Well, you may get that answer when she is awake.” _

They’d all done their jobs.

The rest of it was up to her.

**Peter**

He followed every word Shuri spoke as she explained the controls, body temperature, respiration and the warming process. Specifically, they needed to bring Natasha’s core temperature up. That was the first step. A gradual rise would allow her system to adapt as it increased. Then when they equalized her above 92 degrees Fahrenheit, they could open the chamber and begin adding warming fluids and nutrients.

“Each stage will bring her closer to wakefulness. But even after we take her from the chamber, it could still be a few hours before she actually wakes. She is in a natural sleep at the moment and that is crucial for her body.”

Peter nodded. “Okay.”

She had already begun to warm up by a couple of degrees.

Tony stood right next to him, arms folded, gaze intent.

The niggling feeling in the back of his mind and the icy fingers on his spine that made all his hair stand up was still there, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been.

That was a good sign, right?

**Steve**

She was at fifty degrees and rising. The fact Buck had gone through this wasn’t lost on him. Steve hadn’t been there for him when he came out even though he’d intended to be. He’d seen him hours later and Bucky had both been and not been himself.

Currently, Bucky, like Clint, remained seated, their attention very focused on what everyone else was doing. Steve couldn’t just sit and wait. He needed to stand, to move, to stay on his feet.

What he really needed was just to see her open those beautiful eyes and let him know she was still in there. What he wanted was to wrap his arms around her and keep her safe forever and promise that all that pain and darkness was gone.

He might be able to do the former, but the latter would be a lot more difficult. Especially if she didn’t remember him.

Bucky had told him he was an idiot to even debate that possibility, but he’d seen Bucky struggle with knowing her—knowing so much about her—when she didn’t know him the same way. It wasn’t that he couldn’t imagine it. He’d seen it with his own eyes. He’d witnessed how the holes in her memory affected her. But he didn’t want to go through it.

Even though he’d told Bucky if she didn’t remember, he could back off—it was the last thing he’d wanted. He promised her he would be there and he’d meant it.

_ Come on, Angel _ .  _ You can do this. _

The next hour seemed to drag in agonizing slowness. Had time ever passed so slowly?

**Tony**

At seventy-five degrees they had to slow it down a little, her circulatory system was ramping up as was her metabolism. She’d dropped into REM sleep. Another good sign. But REM also brought with it the potential for nightmares. The spikes in brain activity and sleep paralysis offered some inhibitions to the warming process, but Shuri was prepared for it.

A’dyemi had brought in the items they would need to set up the warming saline and lavage. There were several bags of nutrients. She’d lost weight in there, the more the ice peeled back, the more obvious it became. She wasn’t as skeletal as she’d been after the formless, so Tony would take what he could get.

The fact he kept checking the activity monitor for the nanites and it remained dark heartened him. At one point, Peter glanced at him and Tony settled his hands on his shoulders. The kid nearly sagged, but he was holding up and he’d been studying the readouts and controls as Shuri walked them through the process. So much of it was automated, but she monitored each step. There were times when she tweaked it.

As soon as REM sleep passed, she began increasing the temperature again. “Dreaming,” she explained. “Can do funny things. Temperature shifts can pull you out of a dream, so we try to keep things stable then and she may begin shivering soon.”

May begin…

Tony rolled his head from side to side, the vertebrae cracked. Friday had a running dialogue of Natasha’s vitals going for him and he knew the AI had to be hanging on every megabyte of data on her condition and the stages.

Through it all, Strange maintained his watchfulness and the cloak drifted away from the tube to stand with them.

When Strange gave it an approving nod, Tony exhaled a breath. At eighty-five degrees, Clint and Steve moved to join them. Bucky was the last one on his feet and Tony almost didn’t want to look at him, but he did.

The former Winter Soldier had been through this himself. Of all of them, he would most know what it was like for her on every level. The intensity in his stare and the hint of hope in his eyes was like a sucker punch.

He’d been waiting days for this moment, they all had and it was the first time Tony had seen anything but the resignation and anger in the other man.

Fingers crossed.

_ C’mon, Red. _

Ninety degrees.

“We’re opening the chamber,” Shuri informed them as there was a hiss and the air began to release. 

**Bucky**

The tube opened, releasing a flush of white vapor as the much cooler air escaped. Tony was already moving forward and took the gloves Shuri thrust at him to cover his hands before he began loosening the straps. T’Challa had joined them and he stood next to Bucky as the straps came free and before anyone could move the cloak whipped forward and wound around her and then lifted her up and carefully moved her to a horizontal position before drifting her over to the table.

“Showoff,” Tony muttered and a laugh rippled through the group, even Bucky found himself smiling as they followed. They didn’t crowd around her as she was settled on the bed.

A’dyemi got the first IV in and Tony got the second. The cloak was still around her, but it seemed to just be cradling her now or maybe trying to help warm her up. Her hair was damp and her skin was pale, almost like fine porcelain and there wasn’t a shadow of a bruise anywhere.

She really did look like she was sleeping.

“Core temperature is now 91 and rising,” Shuri said. “Switching to computerized monitoring.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Friday said. “I will take it from here.” Tony had slid her bracelets on. Whether he’d done it before he unstrapped her or not, Bucky wasn’t sure but they were both in place against her cool skin.

Probably could help with the warming.

They added a warming blanket as they opened the fluids to run wide.

“Core temperature 93 degrees.”

Natalia began to shiver.

Wanda stood between Clint and Peter and took each of their hands.

“Core temperature 95 degrees.”

Bucky moved to stand next to the bed, A’dyemi surrendered his spot and Steve moved to the other side. Tony shifted a step over, they were all dividing their attention between her shivering and the monitors.

The shivers began to slow.

“Core temperature 97 degrees,” Friday announced after what felt like an interminably long time.

Linking his fingers with hers, he forced himself to breathe slowly. They could be here for a while yet. Waking was a process and it…

Her fingers twitched. Across from him, Steve covered her other hand.

“Core temperature now at 98.6 and stabilizing.”

The cloak didn’t move and Bucky could hear the breathing of every single person in the room, but he blocked them out, focusing on her breaths. The slow rise and fall of her chest.

Her eyelids flickered, rapid eye movement.

She was dreaming.

Then her hand tightened on his and he let out a breath as her eyes opened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to all of you! It may be a couple of days but I'll be back! Hang in there and thanks for your patience. This part of the story isn't quite over yet.


	72. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalia is awake

**Chapter Seventy-Two**

_ Broken _

**Natasha/Natalia**

“Natalia?”

Light. Heat. Cold. So. Cold.

“You’re out of cryo, they began the warming process.”

The familiar voice washed over her.

Darkness.

Light.

Splintering.

“Please try to take it easy. It will take a couple of hours to reorient you.” An almost lyrical voice. Not as familiar.

“C’mon, Red, just relax. Deep breaths. We’ve got you on IV fluids and nutrition, wide open. You’ve been down for almost eight days. We’re going to be adding some higher dense calories, soon. But you’re safe. Steve’s here, Pete—Bucky.”

Safe? Safety was an illusion. A brief respite.

A hand flexed over hers, the glide of fingers slotting between hers. “Natalia, it’s okay. A lot of this is noise.”

James.

“Too much noise. Sensory overload. Pick one thing and just focus on it.”

She squeezed the hand.

“Okay, there she is.”

Blink.

Light.

Dark.

Shivering.

Warmth.

Blink.

Blurs moved around her.

Too much movement.

She closed her eyes again.

The big light blur sharpened gradually and formed a frame around a set of red-rimmed pale blue eyes gazing back at her unflinchingly. “Hi,” he whispered. The brightness had been turned down. His smile was a softening of the corners of his mouth. “You still with me?”

With care she lifted a trembling hand, it took every ounce of focus to make her arm rise and then she touched his cheek. The roughness of stubble under her fingertips.

James was real.

The smile deepened. “I’m here,” he promised. “This isn’t a dream. We’re in Wakanda.”

Movement, but her eyes were heavy.

Blink.

“There she is.” Steve had taken James’ spot. His eyes were shadowed and he seemed kind of pale under his tan. “You’re looking better. Strange is here, he wants to see if you can respond this time, okay?” Worry coated every word.

What was wrong?

“Natasha.” The voice was less familiar, but she knew it. Moving her head took concentration, the world kind of swam for a moment, then she stared at… Steve called him Strange. But he had another name.

“Can you focus on this?” He held up two fingers and began to move them back and forth. She tracked the motion in between slow blinks. “Very good. Now we’re going to test pupil response. This might be uncomfortable.”

Bright light flooded her eyes and everything around her faded under the blinding force. Gradually it created a corona effect as he moved the light away and brought it back.

“Measurable response this time.”

They’d tested it before.

“We’re going to do some reflex tests next. You still with me?”

What was his name again? He swam back into her line of sight. Where was James? Steve’s hand was warm on hers, but James had been there. Had he?

“Natasha?”

They took him.

They always took him.

No, she’d found him—had he shot her before?

“Red,” Tony’s voice cut through the tumble thoughts and he appeared at Stephen’s—that was his name, Stephen!—side. “You still with us or you need another break?”

Her mouth was dry, but she managed to form the word, “James.” It came out a croak.

“We can give her some ice,” someone said and then there was something blissfully cool on her lips and she sucked on the ice chips. They melted swiftly and helped her aching throat.

“Bucky just went to shower and change,” Steve said. “Friday already told him you were awake and he’s coming back. He’s safe, Angel.”

Safe.

The word floated up and she half-closed her eyes. Safe.

“Red, focus back over here now?” Tony tugged her attention. Tired, she blinked at him. “We’re going to sit you up, okay?”

Probably better than lying on her back. A hum echoed around her as the head of the bed lifted.

“Slowly,” Stephen said, his attention shifting from her to over her head. Something soft brushed her cheek and she glanced to the side and then down at her arms. The red cloak was wrapped around her.

Cloak,

The cloak belonged to Strange.

“It hasn’t wanted to leave you,” Steve told her, drawing her focus.

“Okay,” she said, her voice still hoarse.

“More ice?”

“Please.” She gave a little nod and the world kind of went fuzzy around the edges. The ice melted on her tongue. The world moved in stop-motion. She couldn’t quite track everything.

“We need to give her a little while,” Stephen said. “Let her rest. We’re getting pupillary response and she’s talking. These are all good signs, but that’s still a lot of trauma.”

Trauma.

She closed her eyes.

The next time she opened them, Clint stood there with James, they were both facing away, arms folded.

“Respiration and pulse are well within normal ranges. The scans all look good. But she’s exhausted,” Stephen said. “Obviously, it took tremendous resources to accomplish the task and we weren’t expecting her to just roll out of bed and be ready to go.”

“It’s been twenty-four hours,” Clint said. “How much longer are we looking at?”

“It will take as long as it takes,” a younger, more feminine voice said. “Sleep may be exactly what she needs. I think it’s what all of you need, as well.”

Twenty-four hours.

Natalia rolled her head to the side, her blurred vision took a moment to focus. The tall windows overlooked verdant, green trees, water and painfully blue skies.

“Hey,” Steve said, coming into view. He gave her a small smile and glanced past her to the conversation going on. Easing onto the edge of the bed, he took her hand. “How you doing?”

“Not sure,” she admitted. It was hard to string her thoughts into a coherent order. Something in her chest fisted so tight it was like she was numb from holding it. “You look tired.”

The conversation around her ceased abruptly. “Well, someone’s been hogging the bed,” Steve said with just the driest hint of teasing.

“I’ll get up.” She frowned. Why was she hurt?

“Not yet, Angel, I was just teasing.”

Yeah. She’d known that.

“Where are we?” It was a hospital but not a hospital, right? It didn’t smell like one.

“Wakanda,” he answered slowly, then flicked a look to her other side. With effort, she shifted her glance to her right. James stared at her steadily.

He was okay. Relief soaked through her but soured even as she met his gaze. With care, he took a seat on her other side. Clint moved to the foot of the bed. Tony had been—there he was, sipping his coffee and staring at her with worried eyes.

The question of what happened hovered on her tongue, but she couldn’t ask it.

_ She ducked behind a car as the one twenty feet away exploded. _

_ “Yay, they have grenades.” She checked the magazine on her Glock. _

Flashes danced through her mind.

_ “Shit!” Tony exclaimed and she snapped her head up in time to see one of those missiles knock him sideways. He tumbled a few feet before he caught himself. “Cap, where the hell is that asshole?” _

_ Another explosion rumbled in the distance and the ground trembled. _

_ “Asshole evacuated,” James stated in a deadpan tone. That earned a sputtering laugh from Tony. “Nice missile launcher,” James continued. “I think I’ll keep it.” _

_ “You do not need a missile launcher,” Steve chastised. _

_ “It’s not about need,” Clint commented. _

_ “No,” James argued. “This is definitely need. It’s pretty. Natalia, did you want a souvenir?” _

_ She chuckled. “Maybe. Though I can’t really cuddle a missile launcher.” _

_ Tony’s snort carried over the lines. _

_ “Focus,” Steve said though there was laughter in his voice. _

_ _

The roar of…

_ “Hey Nat,” Bruce said, meeting her gaze. She tried to say hello. Wasn’t happening. Her head hurt, she wanted to close her eyes again. “I’m going to check your skull okay.” _

_ _

They’d been in Los Angeles. Bruce—The Other Guy. “Someone shot me.” It felt like it all happened a million years before.

“Yes,” James said slowly. “You were injured. You cracked your skull. There was swelling. Strange showed up and we brought you to Wakanda.”

Snippets of conversations floating past her. Did she want to go ahead with the procedure—cryostasis—the sunrise.

“Natasha,” Stephen had returned or maybe he hadn’t left. “Are you up for a few more cognitive tests? We need to verify how you’re processing…”

Processing.

“First and foremost, are you in any pain?”

Pain could be compartmentalized.

_ _

_ “You won’t stop picking at the wounds. I told you, we compartmentalize so we can hide things even from ourselves.” _

_ _

“No,” she said. It wasn’t a lie. Her head felt too full. Too many lives. Too many choices. They were all crammed in there.

Stephen held over a tablet and it took a conscious effort to reach for it. She nearly dropped it and would have if Steve hadn’t braced it. “How long was I down?”

“Almost eight days,” Tony said quietly.

They’d said that.

“Happy New Year,” she murmured as she stared at the tablet’s screen. It wasn’t a StarkPad. It reminded her of the one James had given her when he joined them at the chalet.

His mission readiness and condition.

Later, he’d had to do cognitive tests on it.

She tapped the screen.

Yep. There they were.

“We’re going to have you… do what you’re already doing,” he finished slowly. She chose the first screen and began matching the items. The chasm between her and the present seemed vast. It seemed only moments since she’d walked away from Mary and Will.

Her daughter.

Her husband.

_ Natalie’s husband _ . The quiet voice in the back of her mind reminded her. The distinction was important. Compartmentalizing her life from her covers vital.

There was no more compartmentalizing. They had all shattered.

“Nat,” Clint said, the snap in his voice pulling her head up. They were all staring at her expectantly, varying degrees of worry and concern etched into their faces.

Stephen frowned. “Natasha—where are you right now?”

“Wakanda. Presumably some type of medical facility.” She glanced away from them toward the room around them—it seemed smaller. “I was in a larger room before. But I could see out those windows.”

Relief crept into Tony’s expression.

She glanced at the tablet. She’d finished the screens and they were all green. Lifting it, she handed it to Steve who passed it back. His expression tightened.

“Am I done in here?”

Clint folded his arms. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” she said. “I’m not ready to discuss that.” With anyone.

The ache inside of her cracked and her vision blurred before she closed her eyes.

While they didn’t say anything, she could almost feel them looking at each other. “Red, can we get you anything?”

She shook her head, then grimaced as it almost throbbed. The cloak wrapping around her seemed to constrict, but she almost craved the pressure.

Forty years since she walked away from Mary.

Mary Fitzpatrick.

Fuck, she knew that name. It resonated on some level.

Mary Elizabeth Fitzpatrick.

Father William Fitzpatrick.

Married on March 1, 1974, to Natalie Rogers.

She walked away from Will and Mary both, then staged her “death” so they could mourn her and move on.

“Maybe we should give them a minute,” Steve was saying and she glanced up to find he had moved away from the bed with the others leaving her with James. When he pressed his hand to her cheek, she sighed and rolled onto her side. Someone had lowered the bed some so she wasn’t sitting straight up. The cloak seemed to rearrange itself as the fist in her chest tightened and loss began to leak between the fingers.

“Natalia,” he murmured.

“Can we go?”

He frowned. “Where do you want to go?”

“Not here…the Tower—the Island—the chalet, just… away.”

The cabin. It was on the tip of her tongue, but she had to close her eyes at the fresh surge of raw feeling.

“As soon as they clear you,” he promised.

As soon as they cleared her.

That meant she had to endure all of this. Keeping her eyes squeezed shut, she nodded.

“Lyubov moya,” he whispered, the brush of his breath teasing her cheek.

She shook her head. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss anything with an audience. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to say anything at all. The tempest inside of her surged against the cracked and disintegrating dam walls. If they shattered completely, she wasn’t sure how much of her would be left.

“She needs time,” James said. “Let her sleep.” A gentle hand stroked over her hair and the fabric of the cloak seemed to almost massage her neck.

Sleep wasn’t going to be possible, at least she hadn’t believed it so, then she opened her eyes again to see light beyond the windows. The sun was shining. James wasn’t sitting next to her anymore.

A worn-out Tony leaned back in his seat, his eyes closed. There were deep bruises beneath them. Movement pulled her gaze to the left and she found Clint leaning forward, a worried frown on his brow.

“I sent the boys to shower, eat, and sleep. They did not want to go,” he said in a quiet voice. “He stays until they get back and then I’ll get him moving.”

She nodded. At least her head didn’t throb with each movement. Shifting, she moved to sit up and the fight against gravity wasn’t there. Clint lifted his eyebrows as he said, “That cloak really likes you but that’s also damn useful.”

A hint of wonder speared through the choking coils of dark emotion curving around her. There were still IVs in her hands. She hadn’t even felt them.

“I need to pee,” she admitted. More she wanted a shower of her own. Muscles trembling, she moved to the side of the bed. Clint had already circled to reach for her when she floated right off the edge and he motioned toward a side door. The tubes tugged and pulled, but Clint shifted to free them from where they tangled.

Unease shifted through her. She was flying.

Sort of.

At the door to the restroom, Clint flicked the light on and then she was inside.

“You got this?” he asked, the grave worry in his gray-green eyes added a stab of guilt to the morass swarming inside of her. He eased the IV stand into the bathroom with her.

“I hope so,” she said. “I think enough people have had to wipe my ass the last few months.”

Closing the door, she leaned against it. The floor was warm beneath her bare feet and she turned her head to study herself in the mirror. Her hair hung a little limp and greasy. She definitely needed a shower. But her skin was clear, with no visible bruising.

Balancing on her toes, she started to take a step forward and the cloak lifted her up again.

“Stop,” she said quietly. “Please.”

The lift ceased and her feet flattened on the floor again. With one hand she reached toward the counter and then took a step forward, then another. Her muscles trembled.

Running with the stroller, she jogged the pathways of the park. Every day, she pushed a little farther and went a little faster. Push-ups. Sit-ups. Stretching. Training herself to fight…

The park.

The men who came for Maria Stark and her son.

Hunting down the source of the threats and eliminating them—a greedy bastard who wanted Stark’s money.

The strangler. How many women had he murdered?

Will.

Hands braced on the counter, she bowed her head. The tear sliding down her face escaped and the soft brush of the collar against her cheek swiped it away. Blinking through the blurring, she studied the cloak in the mirror, it hovered all around her, not quite hugging her tight but seemingly ready to catch her.

“Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know why you’re helping me.”

Then it closed tightly on her like a hug.

“But thank you.” With care, she moved toward the toilet. “Can you give me a moment?”

The cloak slipped free and then turned its back to her and she almost laughed. Bleakness swallowed the little spark of amusement. But she managed to use the restroom and then she eyed the shower and the IVs. Would they have a cow if she took the IVs out?

Probably.

She did it anyway.

The outfit she had on was white cotton, a tank top and some kind of shorts. She stripped them off carefully. Then turned on the water in the shower. Her muscles trembled with every step, but she was going to do this.

“Tash,” Clint’s voice carried through the door.

“I’m fine,” she told him automatically. Those words meant nothing. Stepping under the spray, she flinched at the first sting of the water on her skin. It was like everything was hypersensitive. Even her breasts hurt, but that was a phantom memory.

She stood under the pound of it as it soaked her hair and skin, she let it warm her up. The chill inside of her a solid block of ice. With trembling hands, she got some shampoo scrubbing in her hair and she had to brace herself to rinse it out. Then she found soap and a washcloth.

The ablutions helped. It was a lot like washing away decades of grime, she half-expected to see the blood clinging to her nail beds or the soot and filth staining her hands. That they were free of any traces of debris left her stumped.

She was rinsing for the third time when a soft knock on the door followed by Tony saying, “Hey Red, I’ve got some clean clothes, just setting them on the counter for you.”

“Thank you,” she said, not looking away from the spray. Not that her eyes were open. The door closed softly behind him and she forced herself to finish when her fingers were wrinkled like prunes. She couldn’t hide in the shower all day.

Hiding.

Disgust curled through the morass and she shook her head before shutting the water off. It took her a minute to towel herself dry, she had to sit on a bench inside the shower twice when she grew too tired.

The cloak hovered closer, but she waved it off. “I’m not going to collapse.”

If a piece of fabric could look skeptical, it managed it. The clothing waiting for her was softer than the first round and closer to what she would normally wear. A bra and panties waited as well. Yeah, she wasn’t going to ask, she just pulled it all on. Then leaned against the counter when she was done. The pajama bottoms were super soft, jersey cotton and matched the t-shirt, both dark gray.

Finger combing her damp hair, she straightened and then glanced at the cloak. “Can you help me walk out there without carrying me?”

The cloak drifted over and wrapped around her again, this time it settled on her shoulders like an arm coiling around her.

“Thank you,” she said as she straightened. The trembling in her limbs lessened—that or she imagined she was a little lighter on her feet. As she opened the door, she wasn’t remotely surprised to find Tony waiting for her a cup of coffee in hand.

“Clint went to get Steve and Bucky,” he told her. “And…”

“Natasha!” Excitement threaded every syllable of her name and then Peter was there and she braced herself for the hug as he lifted her off her feet. Curling her arms around him, she did her best to cradle him even as Wanda joined in the fierce hug.

“And Peter and Wanda are waiting for you,” Tony finished drily.

She gave him a watery smile over Peter’s shoulder, then curled her fingers and he stepped into the group hug with one arm.

“All right, Pete,” he said. “Let’s let her breathe.”

“Yeah, okay.” He set her down carefully and the cloak billowed a little and she was light on her feet again. Wanda swiped at her eyes and Natalia cupped her face.

“It’s okay. I’m in one piece. Apparently, all the king’s horses and all of his men were able to put me back together again.”

“While they were not all mine, Natasha,” T’Challa commented as he strode toward her. “I am more than pleased to see you on your feet again.”

He extended his hand to her and she took it as he clasped her forearm and she his. Then she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek and he smiled. “Believe it or not, I am getting used to the truth.”

The call back to that long-ago conversation earned her a slightly wider smile. “I believe you,” he said. “My sister is going to take a lot of credit.”

“They can have all the credit—your sister, Tony, Stephen…thank you.”

“It was truly our honor and pleasure. You allowed me to make right what I put wrong.”

“I think you paid me back in spades, to be honest.” Between them all, they’d given her everything back.

“Coffee, Red?” Tony pulled her attention and she took it carefully. Cradling it between two hands because it betrayed her trembling. No, Tony hadn’t missed it. “And maybe we sit down while we have it?”

The door opened and Stephen was the next one in. His hair was damp as though he too had just showered and he gave her a stern look. “You’re pushing it.”

“It’s my M.O.,” she retorted then took a sip of the coffee but let Tony urge her to sit when he nudged her to the chairs and sofas collected in the corner near the windows. The cloak billowed up so she wasn’t sitting on it before settling around her. “And I apparently have inherited a new friend.”

“Oh, trust me, Red,” Tony said as he sat down next to her. “We’ve all noticed.”

Peter perched on the arm of her chair and Wanda circled around to sit on the ottoman in front of her. The only two who didn’t sit were T’Challa and Stephen.

She took another drink of the coffee.

“You also removed your I.V.s,” Tony commented.

“You can put them back in, but I wanted to shower.” She hadn’t ripped out the ports.

“We’ll do an evaluation first,” Stephen stated but before he could continue, the doors opened again with Clint leading Steve and James by half a step and Shuri joining them.

The gang was all here.

Peter bounced up from his spot as James circled to claim it and Wanda moved for Steve. Downing another mouthful of coffee, she kept her attention on Stephen as he gave the group a disgruntled look.

“It’s all right,” she said. “Just tell me what you need and we’ll get it done. As much as I appreciate everything T’Challa and Shuri have done as well as all of you, I want to go.”

James settled his hand on her shoulder; a quiet easy weight and she gave him a small smile. At the moment, she had everything as tightly battened down as she could get it.

“Well then, you completed the first round of cognitive testing. Would you be up for a second round?” Shuri said rubbing her hands together.

“Bring it on.”

She finished the coffee while Shuri prepared a tablet. Clint had his arms folded. She didn’t need to meet his gaze to recognize the dozen questions he had, but at the moment it wasn’t about asking them. It was all about overseeing her. She cooperated without complaint.

An act that probably set every alarm bell he had to ringing. Tony brought her a fresh mug of coffee as soon as she finished the first one. He was a lot like his father, but those similarities were on the surface. The Tony she’d gotten to know was a much warmer man than Howard’s mad genius. Howard fell too deeply into his projects just as Tony had for so long—relating more to their discoveries than to people.

Tony had changed. She saw more of his mother in him, and she suspected Edwin and Ana.

Grief fisted in her chest, digging its claws in and leaving bloody stripes. They’d all died while she roamed in the years after she finally broke from the KGB and the Red Room. When she worked more as a mercenary and assassin, when the Widow didn’t give a damn about anyone.

She hadn’t remembered them.

“Should we go get her food?” Peter asked as the sound in the room suddenly returned.

“Are you hungry, Natasha?” Wanda asked.

“There’s some great breakfast wraps,” Peter suggested.

“Guys,” Clint said. “Give it a minute.”

She wasn’t hungry at all, but then she hadn’t eaten in days so maybe that was why.

Days? It seemed like years and yet she’d just had dinner with Will and they’d taken Mary to… She closed her eyes.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Tony said throwing in with Clint. “Why don’t you two go and sort out food for everyone, maybe back in the suite. Then we’ll bring Red down if she gets cleared.”

The sudden absence of their voices had her opening her eyes again. She met the concerned look in Steve’s and summoned up a faint smile. The deep shadows beneath his eyes said he hadn’t been sleeping. “You should get some coffee,” she told him and the corner of his mouth quirked higher.

“I’m going to turn into a cup of coffee soon, Angel,” he said in a dry tone.

“Well, there are worse things to be.” Though she lacked any real humor.

“Sorry,” Shuri said as she leaned over the sofa and handed her a tablet. “This is another set of cognitive tests. We’re going to measure reflexes and physical responses when we’re done, all right?”

“Yep,” Natalia answered and she glanced around for somewhere to put her coffee, but Tony rescued it from her and then she tapped the screen.

The word associations, matching, picture identification flew by as she tapped them. Math problems were next. One after another. Her head began to ache, but she ignored it. The brain bruise had been well-earned and this task needed to be accomplished if she had a hope in hell of getting out of here.

She needed to get out because she needed to get to a computer.

She had research to do.

Shape matching.

Logic progression.

She zipped through test after test, blocking out the fact she had an audience. The worry sizzling in the air was like static against her skin. When she completed the last one, the screen turned blue then all the tasks were marked green.

Holding it up, she met Shuri’s startled expression. 

“You completed all of them?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

Tony whistled. “Genius, I’m telling you.”

Steve gave her a smile and James squeezed her shoulder. Weariness swept through her but she packed it away. Goal one met to get out of there. The reflex test was next along with physical responses.

“Natasha, if you don’t mind…” Stephen motioned her toward the bed she’d abandoned and she rose, aware of three sets of hands reaching out to steady her but no one actually touching her.

As she passed Steve, she brushed her fingers against his shoulder and then followed Stephen and Shuri. The tests weren’t invasive. If anything, they were probably some of the most mundane she’d ever had to do.

Her reflexes passed, she reacted to light. She caught the ball Stephen tossed at her. Then he wanted her to walk without the cloak. The cloak seemed reluctant, but she said, “It’s fine. I can do it, thank you for wanting to help.”

It slipped off of her and then hovered next to her as she stood. Balancing her weight on her bare feet, she crossed the room without swaying once, then turned to face them. “Do you need me to do it again?”

“No,” Stephen said, arms folded as he studied her. The cloak latched back on and he gave it an impatient look. “Are you in pain?”

“My head hurts,” she admitted easily. “But I figure after everything that’s got to be normal.”

“You can take a pain reliever.”

“I’m good,” she said. “No more drugs.”

Of any kind.

Ever.

If she could help it.

A few more tests, including a couple of quick scans and one that was basically an MRI that didn’t require her going in the loud, obnoxious machine. She approved.

“I’m going to say it even if Dr. Strange is reluctant, Natasha,” Shuri told her. “You are in perfect condition. Tired, obviously, and you should sleep. Like I told Sergeant Barnes when he came out of cryo. You need as much natural sleep as you can get over the next several days. You are still healing and this was a tremendous drain on your resources. You’ve lost close to fifteen pounds.”

Fantastic, there went more muscle mass.

“You’re also going to need to eat carefully, you haven’t had a lot of solid food, it’s all been nutrients. Eat smaller, regular meals.” There was more advice, including grounding her from all missions.

The last one didn’t surprise her.

“Thank you,” she said as they went over everything again including the fact that they wanted to see her for rechecks.

She’d deal with that when she had to.

“I’m going to return to New York,” Stephen said at the end. “When you’re ready to come back, call me, I will come and get you.”

“We don’t have a quinjet?” Natalia asked, not that she minded the offer.

“Not exactly,” Tony answered. “Doc came and got us in L.A. brought us straight here, got Peter and Wanda for us, too.”

“Thank you, Stephen,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I mean that.”

“I know you do, please don’t do anything else to jeopardize our work. The fact you went into a heavy combat fire zone was bad enough.”

Natalia shrugged. “Hardly my first time.”

“That,” he said firmly. “I am very well aware of.”

T’Challa and Tony had a quiet conversation as James waited for her to bid farewell to Stephen, then James and Steve both shook his hand and Clint studied her.

“Are you coming or not?” Stephen said, glancing at her again and she frowned before she remembered the cloak. It flexed and closed around her and the sorcerer raised his brows. “Apparently the answer is not.”

“I’ll make sure he gets back to you,” Natalia told him. “When he’s ready to go.”

“I appreciate that.” Then Stephen gave the cloak one more look and guilt bubbled up from some murky depth. The cloak was one of his tools, something he relied on and it was staying with her.

“Should you go with him?” she asked the cloak. “He might need you.”

It flexed around her again but made no move to leave. To be honest, she wasn’t sure a cloak was her look, but if it wasn’t going anywhere, she didn’t want to force it, either.

“It will be fine,” Stephen told her. “It will look after you.”

Yeah, she had a lot of people looking after her.

As it was, she was still very light on her feet as they made their way to the lifts. T’Challa and Shuri bid them a good morning and that they would be by to see them later, finally leaving her with the guys in the elevator as it descended to whatever floor they were staying on.

“Who else is here?” she asked.

“Us, Peter, Wanda, and Vision,” Steve answered.

She hadn’t seen Vision. “What happened to Bruce?”

James went stiff next to her even if his expression didn’t change, the rest of his posture did.

“He’s here,” Tony said carefully. “Vision is keeping him company and we’ll add discussing him and what’s going on there when you’ve had a little more rest and aren’t just freshly back on your feet after a week and then some. I have enough gray hair, Red. We could all use a break.”

“Okay.” No argument here. She didn’t have it in her to deal with Bruce as it was.

Shock rippled through her companions, but Natalia shoved that aside. When the doors opened to a new floor a pair of guards stood watch at the end of a hall. They nodded to all of them, but Natalia just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as they made their way down the hall.

She had to get through food with the kids, then maybe lay down. Hopefully, someone had her phone or she could use one of theirs.

Her stomach bottomed out with every step she took. The clog of tears wedged in her throat even as loss clawed at her insides. Holding the tempest at bay took everything she possessed. Clint opened the doors to let them in and the surge in conversation from an excited Peter and Wanda surrounded her even as the guys’ much deeper voices rumbled in response.

Natalia didn’t quite listen to any of it, her gaze fixed on the windows overlooking the greenery. It was so beautiful out there and so different from what she’d seen the last… well, the last few years, she supposed.

Time seemed to have fractured and distorted. Not quite focusing on all of them she walked to the doors and pushed one open. The humid air enveloped her as she stepped out and the sun had her squinting. She moved to the railing and gripped it as she sucked in a lungful of air.

The door closed softly behind her and then James was there leaning against the railing next to her.

“Talk to me,” he said quietly.

“I broke,” she admitted. “I’m broken, James.”

And if she kept talking, she would break further. 

“What can I do?”

“Don’t hate me,” she answered.

“Natalia.” The reproach in his voice demanded she look at him and she cut a glance up to find him staring at her. “I could never hate you. Nothing you did— _ nothing _ that happened will ever make me not love you.”

“You can love and hate someone at the same time,” she said. “I left her, James. I made the call and I walked away from her.”

“To save her,” he whispered. “You think I don’t know that? You made a brutal choice that you are paying for to save her.”

“I don’t know if I can… it’s all so fresh.”

“I know,” he said, then slid his arms around her and she let him pull her in as she leaned her head against his chest. “When I remembered,” he whispered. “When it all came flooding back, I woke to the empty bed in Louisiana and then I rushed out to find you, I had to know you were there and you were safe.”

She remembered that morning. The feeling of him wrapping around her, the insistent need and the vibrant desire. They’d come together with a kind of ferocity they’d shared the first time in the shower—well during that first time. They’d had so many.

Tears pricked at her eyes again.

So many things she’d never told him, that she’d compartmentalized and put away to keep him safe. Her soldier who would have avenged her a thousand times over…

“I know the loss, Natalia,” he whispered. “It doesn’t go away, but it does get better. You have to let yourself feel it, kotyonok.”

She snorted. “Kitten. You always called me that damn nickname.”

“Because you have always had claws,” he whispered. “Even when you were loving and compassionate, you would sink those claws in or bite to remind me that you could take care of yourself.”

The first sniffle stilled her and she sucked in a deep breath, shoving everything she had at shoring up her crumbling emotional foundation.

“You are not broken,” he said. “You have survived everything they have ever thrown at you and you are still here.”

Maybe. But Natalia had broken and she didn’t know how to convey that without shattering further. 

Instead, she held tight to him and let him hold her. The cloak seemed to squeeze her too as if offering her its own form of comfort.

“What do you need?” he asked after several long minutes.

A lie hovered on her tongue, but all she said was, “Answers. I need to confirm…”

He chuckled softly and it was enough to have her pull back a little to meet his gentle smile. Raising his hands, he brushed the hair back from her face. “I had to confirm what I remembered, too,” he said.

“When you went to Montana with Clint,” she said slowly. “I love that cabin,” she confessed. “I thought they had to have burned it down. The whole time I hiked over the mountains with Mary and into Canada, even as I traveled with Logan and long after I left him, I dreamed of it. I wanted to go back, I wanted to have our lives there back, but I thought surely they had destroyed it.”

But it had endured.

“I worried the same,” he murmured. “But they never found it, Natalia. They never touched that world we built. It has only ever been ours.”

A tear slid down her cheek again and as much as she didn’t want to cry, she wasn’t sure she would be able to stop if she started. Swiping at it, she licked her lips. The others were inside, waiting. Peter and Wanda had been so excited and she was out here wallowing in her misery.

“Stop beating yourself up,” James ordered. “Everyone here loves you,” he said. “Every single one of them knows you have been through something terrible and they aren’t here for you to look after.”

“No?” She sniffed again, then spared a glance to the doors. The air was so muggy and sticky, she’d begun to sweat but it couldn’t quite touch the core of ice dissolving inside of her. More sloshed against the dam and more cracks began to spread.

“No, they aren’t. They’re here for the same reason I am,” he said, his gaze steady. “And now you’re going to let us take care of you and let us worry about looking after each other. Am I clear?”

“Or what?” she dared him, sniffing again torn between not knowing whether to laugh or cry or both.

“Or I’m going to do it anyway,” he said flatly, with the thinnest of smiles. “And we’ll fight and it will be tough as hell on both of us, but I’m going to win this one Natalia. Because I’ve been here—I’ve been in this pit and I know how to get out. So we can stay here as long as you need to.”

Bowing her head, she pressed her forehead to his chest. She didn’t have it in her to argue against that.

“Do you want to eat? Or do you want to go lie down?”

She didn’t  _ want _ to do anything.

“Food,” she said. “Then sleep. You’ll stay?”

“Not going anywhere,” he promised. “And apparently neither is this cloak.”

A little laugh escaped, then another even as a tear slid down her cheek. “He followed me home, James…”

His soft laugh joined hers. “So we’re keeping it?”

“For as long as it wants to be here,” she admitted.

“I can live with that,” he murmured, then tightened his arms again. “Thank you, Natalia,” he whispered. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

“I promised,” she answered. 

Later, after food had been eaten, and Peter and Wanda filled her in on their week in Wakanda and after Clint briefed her on the kids and the fact they’d gone back to Iowa and definitely after Tony said he’d fill her in on Bruce sometime around never unless she asked him for it, Natalia finally headed to a room to sleep.

There were other updates—Remy and Logan had been busy apparently and she would have to call them, Sharon and Maria had been doing their part and there was something about Pepper but they only skimmed those details.

Peter had to go back to New York for school, he’d already stayed almost two days longer, but Tony had gotten him a few extra days. One thing she’d noticed during all of it—they were looking after each other. Steve gently bullied Tony into eating more while Clint did much the same to James. They all nudged the kids and Tony poked at her to try something even as James shared the dishes he liked.

They laughed.

They teased.

There was a kind of lightness in the air between all of them. It had been there at Christmas, but this was different. More, she didn’t miss the looks Wanda and Peter kept sharing. At some point, she’d ask or they’d tell her. But as long as they seemed happy, she was content to leave them to it.

She also hadn’t missed the looks the guys split. They’d likely need time to talk to each other about her. Alone for the first time since her shower—though she wasn’t sure “Cloaky,” as Tony kept calling it/him, being there qualified as alone—she walked to the windows of the bedroom. It was decorated simply, but tastefully. The earth tones accented with vibrant ochres and orange. It was kind of like stepping into an earthy sunset—or a sunrise.

The view from the window beckoned her to explore, but she couldn’t work up the energy. It was the kind of place she should be immersing herself to not only absorb the culture but the language.

All she wanted to do was immerse herself in answering the last questions she had. Like why did she know Mary Fitzpatrick’s name? It wasn’t from the memories she’d just recovered, no, the name was familiar now. But she couldn’t quite place it and weariness settled on her as she moved to sit on the bed.

The cloak billowed, then one corner wrapped around her hand as though holding her hand for her. Images danced across her mind’s eye bouncing from the Red Room to Karpov to Montana to sitting in Stark’s office to arranging an encounter with Will to walking away and luring James to find her.

The crack of every bone break echoed in her ears. The nauseating encounter Alexei forced her hand during the space mission assignment. Mary working her way through ballet steps as Ana applauded her. Sitting for tea with Edwin and bidding him farewell.

She never did see him again.

Logan…

Logan finding her and not letting her wander away. Even when she half-considered he was there to kill her.

Finding Remy and bailing him out.

Stealing away with Will for a weekend.

Finding James again in ’76.

Then again in ’78.

Losing him in ’84.

Not seeing him again for twenty-five years.

Pierce.

The door opened and she lifted her head to find Steve closing it quietly. “Bucky’s coming,” he said softly. “I was just going to check on you.”

She hadn’t moved from where she sat at the edge of the bed.

“I’m here,” she told him. When he stayed by the door, she canted her head. “You all right?”

“You shouldn’t have to ask me that question,” he answered, frowning.

“Okay, but I did ask. So—are you all right?”

“No,” he said slowly, pushing away from the door and crossing to her. “But I’m better than I was. How are you?”

“I’m a mess,” she confessed with a shrug. “Trying to sort it all out.” She touched a hand to her head, the tenderness there might be real or imagined, but it was enough to keep her from thumping herself even if all she wanted to do was bang her head against a wall.

“Been a long few days,” he admitted, but he sat down next to her. “I can’t imagine what it was like for you.”

“I’m sorry I opened my eyes,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I think I scared you.” It was a fleeting memory amongst the rest, pain—Natalia—bursting the blocks and finding where she hid everything from herself. Those pockets were gone now, she might be able to build new ones but it would take time.

“Hey,” he reproached. “Nothing for you to be sorry about.” With care, he cupped her cheek. “Seriously…we were worried, but  _ about _ you not  _ because _ of you.”

She shrugged. “I saw your face, Steve. It was a nightmare for you.”

“I can handle it,” he said, dipping his head to the side and studying her. “You remember?”

“Everything.” There was no joy in that statement. There had been joy. She might be able to cherry-pick those moments eventually, but she had to absorb the rest. Every single one felt like it had just happened. “I never betrayed the Avengers.”

That thought bubbled to the surface and she let out a little laugh.

“Yeah?” Despite the question mark punctuating the word, he didn’t sound surprised—only pleased and probably for her.

“Yeah. Pierce…asked a lot of questions. Things he wanted from me, but I always found a way to work away from it. His desires were at a cross-purpose to my mission.”

“Your mission?”

“Putting the Avengers together, protecting them—protecting you and Tony and Thor. Protecting Bruce and Clint. Eventually protecting everyone who came under the aegis of the Avengers. Pierce wanted control, he wanted access to Tony’s designs—he wanted a lot of things. I never gave them to him. I gave him an illusion even when he had them break me, I didn’t betray the Avengers. Some part of me knew and I found a way to disseminate, to disguise and to reword things so he took an inference.”

Now, she kind of wished she’d been the one to shoot him. The shock on his face when she took down the STRIKE team then stepped on his moment resonated with her.

“And I have code words.”

That made Steve pale.

Leaning her cheek into his hand. “They tried to use James’ with me—they didn’t work. But Richardson found a way to twist new words, to make me compliant.” All that architecture, unmade and remade over and over again.

“Did he hurt you, Angel?” Steve frowned. “I know Pierce did, but did the psychologist?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does, but we can beat it out of him if we have to when we find him.”

Oh.

He was still out there.

“You don’t do that kind of thing, Steve,” she reminded him. If it had to be done, she would do it.

“I’m starting to see a reason for it,” he murmured. “God, Angel, I just want to take all that pain I keep seeing in your eyes.”

“You can’t,” she said, even if it might be obvious to both of them. “But thank you for wanting to.”

“Can I hold you for a little while?” The fact he had to ask reminded her that it wasn’t all that long ago she hadn’t even wanted to be touched.

“Cloaky, do you mind?” At her question, the cloak slipped off of her and Natalia twisted to meet Steve, and he scooped her up and moved to sit on the bed and cradled her. The cloak settled for waiting there, just hovering and then it turned to give her its back and she almost smiled.

“That thing has gotten very fond of you,” Steve murmured against her hair. “After what happened, it wrapped around you on the field in LA and carried you through the portal.”

“Cool,” she murmured. “Sorry I missed that.”

“Me too,” he said with a half-formed snort of laughter. Natalia closed her eyes and pressed her ear to his shoulder. The steady thump of his heart playing a soothing beat. “I missed you,” he admitted. “In the middle of all this, all I could think was you had to wake up and be you again. I can’t do this without you.”

“You could,” she assured him. “All of you could. Maybe you couldn’t have before—but you’re in a better place now. You and Tony, Clint and James—the kids. If I wasn’t here, you could do it.”

“Not planning to find that out anytime soon if you don’t mind.”

She smiled a little. “Good. Kind of tired of being on the recovering end of this stick.”

It wasn’t really funny and he didn’t laugh so much as rub her arm gently. “Angel…I told Bucky if you didn’t remember me or your feelings changed or—whatever happened—if you needed me to go, I’d go.”

“Did he hit you in the head and call you a punk?”

“Close.”

“Good.” Pushing back a little, she met his gaze. “I might be broken and I might be in pieces, but partners still means something to me.”

“You’re not broken,” he whispered. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

She was though in so many pieces. Brittle and crumbling. “I’m a mess, Steve.”

“Then we’ll fix it,” he promised. “All of us. You’re not alone.”

“Neither are you,” she reminded him. “Don’t offer to leave me again. I’m an assassin, I know how to make people hurt. A lot. I can kill them, too.”

“Duly noted,” he said soberly, though one corner of his mouth kicked up. “I know, I’m an idiot, but I love you.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Hopefully you still do after…”

“I don’t care about what happened before,” he cupped her face and nudged her gaze up. “Do you understand me? You had a hellish life and you had to make difficult and brutal choices. But everything that happened, it just brought you to who you are now and that is an amazing woman who takes my breath away. I might be an idiot, but if I don’t get to run away, then neither do you. If we have to superglue the pieces together, we will. To the end of the line, Angel.”

The door closed softly behind her and Steve glanced up.

“Right, Buck?”

“Damn straight.”

She sighed. Natalia knew this about them. James had every reason to hate her for the choices she’d made and he may yet. She gave their daughter another father, someone she would love and remember when she’d already begun to forget him and then she’d left her, taking the only link Mary had to her father when Natalia went.

“Can you try to sleep now?” Steve asked. “Or should we get movies and hot cocoa and take turns cuddling you?”

A small laugh escaped her because James was just there. “C’mon, share her.” He lifted her right out of Steve’s lap and then they were shifting around to settle on the bed with her between them.

Weariness swept over her. “I can try to sleep—you both look like you need it.”

No certainty existed in her that she could sleep. She had to talk to Tony. She had so much she had to tell James. Steve and Clint deserved some answers, too. And there was a part of herself that only wanted to cry while the rest of her was already weighing the options of slipping away to figure all of this out.

Mostly, she had no idea what she was going to do. Rolling onto her side, she faced James even as Steve curled up at her back and it struck her that she slept like this often. She had to see James—she had to know he was still there.

Recognition shimmered in his eyes as she stared at him. Somehow, she suspected it was the same for him.

When he cupped her hand to his chest, she sighed and closed her eyes. Just as she began to drift, something warm draped over her and she caught Steve’s huff of laughter. “Okay, I’m not sure we agreed to share her in bed.”

“I don’t think it cares,” James mused.

And Natalia burrowed as the cloak’s weight seemed to increase and the pressure helped chase the scattering thoughts.

Broken in every possible way.

She had only one choice, but she wasn’t there yet.

Then she drifted off as they talked, lulled by their voices. 

She wasn't alone.


	73. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grief is like an ocean, it comes in waves...

**Chapter Seventy-Three**

_ Grief _

**Natalia/Natasha**

It was dark when she woke. The soft sounds of James’ and Steve’s deep, regular breaths filled the air. Her head was still too full and tender, but her bladder’s protests were louder. That and her mouth tasted like cotton. Her muscles protested and the ache stretched down her spine.

The last thing she wanted to do was wake anyone up. The moment she tried to sit though, the cloak wrapped around her and then elevated her carefully floating her upward. A little thrill skated through her at the action. She was almost flying.

Slowly and easily it floated her over Steve and then she was on her feet. It was dark, but that didn’t seem to slow the cloak as it barely let her feet touch the flooring before she was at a door. Only then did it set her down fully and she let herself into the bathroom. Once inside, she turned on a light.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

The cloak patted her cheek then slid off so she could use the facilities. After, she washed her hands, then face and ran a comb through her hair. The staticky noise humming as her thoughts tumbled over each other like marbles aggravated her but she focused on her breathing as she studied herself in the mirror.

Still too pale and her hair seemed almost too dark against her face. How long had she slept? Her ring was missing and when she touched a hand to her chest, the dog tags were gone. But she had her bracelets. Maybe they just hadn’t given her the other pieces back yet.

Hopefully, they hadn’t been lost.

“Can you help me get to the other door to the sitting room?” she asked the cloak.

It slid around her easily and she switched off the light just before she opened the door. The sensation of floating was both disarming and charming in equal measures. She focused on that and then touched the handle as the cloak slowed them. With care, she opened it and glanced back at the bed. Both men were just out.

How long had it been since they’d actually slept? How much sleep was she going to keep costing them? Closing the door softly, she turned to the darkened sitting room. A couple of lights burned low offering her a bare amount of illumination to navigate by.

None of her things were here, but there’d been a tablet on the bar during dinner. If she could borrow that, she could do some research. On her way to the kitchen, she hesitated. Someone was asleep on the sofa. Tony had his legs up on the table and his head tilted back against the sofa, sleeping with a StarkPad hugged to his chest.

Brushing her fingers against his disheveled hair, she sighed. None of them were sleeping enough. Easing the StarkPad away from his chest, she glanced at his legs then at him.

“Cloaky? Could you…” The cloak slipped off of her and then wound around Tony. It took the cloak less than a few seconds to levitate Tony up and then shifted him to lie on the sofa at a much better angle. It released him gently then floated back toward her as she draped a blanket over him.

A frown tightened his brow and she smoothed her hand over his cheek and then ran her nails lightly through his hair. “Shh…” The frown erased and he seemed to sink deeper.

The cloak followed her into the kitchen where she found water and the tablet on the counter. She’d been half-tempted to borrow Tony’s StarkPad, but she wasn’t quite ready to share what she wanted to look for. Cup in hand she moved to the doors of the balcony and let her and the cloak out.

Where the air had been humid the last time she’d been out here, it was cooler and smelled of blossoms. There were night birds calling and what view of the city she had glowed. Sitting down, she folded her legs and leaned back against the wall and settled the tablet in her lap.

The cloak hovered next to her as she took a drink of water, then began to tab through the device to see what her options were. It only took her ten minutes to work down to the base code and crack the software, once there, she created a partition to do her research.

While it built what she coded, she lifted her gaze to the horizon. Did they face east here? Head back, she glanced up at the sky. There were no markers for her to track by.

Cloaky brushed up against her and she asked, “Do you know which way is east?”

It pivoted and faced the room behind her. So they faced west or a variant on west. She could go back inside and make her way through the castle or… she glanced at the cloak again.

“If I wanted to go east, could you take me? Just find a quiet spot to sit and watch the sunrise?”

Local time said it was nearly six in the morning. Sunrise had to be soon, right?

The cloak dipped to settle around her and she gripped the tablet as it began to rise and carried her up, then she was up and over the railing and climbing. The cool air brushed against her as she floated along the side of the building and up. It gave her a better view of the structure they were housed in—a wing of the palace, maybe. There was a much taller structure toward the center which extended up against what looked like a mountain. The building there climbed and she could see the windows similar to the ones housing the view before she went into cryo.

Then they were passing over the top of the palace and angling away. The structures surrounding the palace blended into the darkness and the trees. It was the most stunning mixture of old world and new. It reminded her of different areas of Moscow and Paris or even Venice and Rome. The ancient and the modern lined the streets.

The past and the present.

A lot like her.

The fist in her chest tightened again but she continued her drifting flight toward what looked like a hill. It was some distance from the palace, but there was a clearing and beneath it—a stunning crystal lake. As Cloaky settled her back against the earth, she curled her bare feet in the soft grass. The air here was even cooler than by the palace, but she was far from chilled.

The cloak wrapped around her and kept the breeze away.

“Thank you,” she said. There was the faintest ribbon of light in the distance, just a bare trickle of it along the mountain ridge. The tablet dinged and she glanced down at it. The screen had opened to a browser. She entered an IP address—hopefully the Wi-Fi reached this far, if not she’d do it again in a little while. The connection was slow, but it opened to a private server.

Fingers shaking she started to type in Will’s name when she caught the whine of repulsors. Tipping her head back, she shifted and glanced over her shoulder in time to see Tony descending. He landed with a thud six feet away and the helmet snapped open.

“Seriously, Red? You take a fucking walk in the middle of the night?” Worry drenched every word or she’d have taken more offense. As it was, she offered him a small smile.

“I wanted to see the sunrise,” she told him, then motioned toward the mountains. “The balcony didn’t have a good view.”

“So you hiked all the way here?” Disbelief filtered through his expression as the armor retracted and he came to kneel next to her. “Are you insane?”

“Well, the last is debatable and no, I didn’t hike all the way here, Mr. Stark. The cloak carried me.”

At the gentle slap of his last name, he scowled but sat abruptly. “Jeezus, Red…Friday wakes me up with an alert that you’ve flown the coop and all I could think was something was wrong.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and guilt raked through her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You were sleeping and so were the guys and I just wanted to watch the sunrise.”

“You don’t owe me an apology, Red,” he dropped to sit next to her and stretched his legs out. “You really don’t.”

“I’m sorry Friday woke you up.” She glanced at her bracelets. “Good morning Friday.”

“Good morning, Nat,” Friday said, her voice almost warm and her lilt pronounced. “I thought you might have forgotten I was monitoring you.”

Yes, she had really. “It’s all right, but you didn’t have to wake Tony.”

“Yeah she did,” Tony stated even as Friday said, “Yes, I did. Boss worries about you.”

“Thanks, Baby Girl, I got it from here,” he said, covering her hand before he traced the bracelet. “I put these back on you as soon as we were ready to take you out of the chamber.”

“They saved my life.” No surprise there. “You keep doing that.”

“Yeah well,” he said with a little shrug. “Friday and I are used to your input.”

“Tony…”

“Who’s Will?”

She sighed as his gaze focused on the tablet in her lap before he looked at her.

“Or were you asking a question like will the sunrise be visible today?” Tired eyes or not, he was very focused on her. The gradual light spreading along the horizon coupled with the illumination from the screen and the arc reactor seemed to deepen his worried expression that not even the attempt at teasing in his tone could soften.

Turning her attention to the horizon, she exhaled. “Will was Natalie’s husband.”

Silence punched through his normal patter and she could almost feel the weight of his stare.

The words came out far easier than she expected. Even the thought of telling James had left them clawing at the inside of her throat.

“Natalie,” she said, clinging to that distance even if it didn’t matter a damn. “She married him in 1974 a few weeks before she was…killed.”

“Shit, Red,” Tony exhaled harshly.

“They had a quick ceremony—he was friends with a judge. Got the paperwork pushed through to adopt her daughter. Everything was final just two days before she disappeared.” The words sounded kind of alien. “Natalie did everything she could for her daughter, even worked with Howard Stark and Peggy Carter for a time. But Carter didn’t trust Natalie—maybe the Russian asset part bothered her or the fact Natalie could give her details on other Russian assets including some intelligence losses that left the Americans with egg on their face. She tried to take Natalie into custody with SHIELD. In all fairness, it might have been throwing the Rogers last name in her face.”

Natalia shrugged. It could have been a lot of things.

“She wasn’t thrilled with her, that was for sure, but Stark—he came through for Natalie. Unexpected as that was.” Her hand trembled and she curled her fingers into her palm as the tablet screen went dark. “Natalie…”

Keep it third person, she told herself. Keep her distance, but there was no distance. Natalie was another layer of her own skin. She licked her lips.

“Natalie had an appointment to interview with Ana and Edwin about a possible position on staff for an upcoming event. But Director Carter arrived and put a gun to the back of Natalie’s head while Ana was holding Mary…it was a tense situation, but Natalie handled it, disarming Carter before she could cause any damage and into the middle of all that the Starks’ son appeared.”

Tony gave a little jolt.

“He wanted a snack and he was being rather insistent, and adorable. Of course, Stark arrived shortly thereafter and Natalie let him send his son away and he agreed to talk to Natalie when she also stripped the gun and put it down. What followed was a difficult conversation, including telling them James was alive. That was a difficult pill for them to swallow. Leaving them, she took Mary and gave them time to consider what they would do.”

For the first time, she wished she’d brought water with her. The gentle lap of the lake below offered some soothing as did the cloak tightening against her. When Tony gripped her hand, she threaded her fingers with his. His fingers were dry and calloused.

“The next day when she returned, SHIELD agents were in place on the street and around the house. There were plenty lying in wait. Natalie didn’t care for traps, particularly since Stark had seemed at least moderately interested in helping. Carter didn’t trust her—and it made a certain amount of sense. Natalie wasn’t exactly telling them her real name. Since she couldn’t get to Stark, she followed Mrs. Stark and the son—to the place in the park they often went to play. She’d already discovered that piece of information.”

The pink and red deepened as the sky brightened, the mountain masking the sun’s approach.

“Natalie’s intention was never to harm their child or Mrs. Stark, but she did want to get her message across. Ana was with them and she and Mrs. Stark did not react well to Natalie’s presence, but they also didn’t react badly. Mrs. Stark admitted that the SHIELD agents weren’t Stark’s idea and offered to make arrangements for Natalie to see him and she left her son with Ana there at the park where Natalie could see them as a show of faith. It was peculiar and Natalie had no idea what to make of it at first.”

Tony’s grip turned to iron on her hand, but she ignored the twinge as he squeezed. This couldn’t be easy for him and she wasn’t exactly being gentle in her retelling.

“I can stop,” she said, turning to glance at him. His whole expression was pained.

“No,” he said. “You met my mom.”

“I liked her,” she said quietly. “I liked her a lot. She was a unique woman. She told me that she had an instinct about when someone meant harm and she didn’t think I did.”

He let out a little laugh, half-broken with a hint of grief. “Mom was—probably one of the kindest people I’ve ever known.”

“You were very fond of her,” she admitted. “When she touched my arm, I reacted badly at first and you were quick to confront me.”

Surprise filtered through his gaze.

“Even more, I was wearing a wig and you recognized me as the lady from the day before.” That little bit had impressed. “Observant even then.”

He frowned.

“You said I changed my hair,” Natalia continued, the mask of Natalie popping free. “And asked how I did it and I said magic… you made a face because you said you liked the red better.”

Tony laughed, the rough chuckle pulling a reluctant smile from her. “I do like the red better, you’re a terrible blonde.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “So at least I know I had good taste.”

“Well, you also told me magic wasn’t real…”

“…it’s just science stupid people don’t understand,” he finished for her. “I don’t… fuck, Red, I don’t remember that being you. I don’t remember seeing you in the park.”

“You played with Mary—helped her learn how to slide. She’d never played on equipment before.” Natalia sighed. “And I realized how isolated James and I had kept her. Everything was new and exciting. You were good with her. Later—after your mother came back, I realized she had spotters on her. She hadn’t brought an escort, she promised, but I tracked at least three of them and they weren’t just watching her, they were watching you.”

Tony made a face. “That happened a lot when I was a kid. Mom didn’t want bodyguards everywhere but…”

“She wanted you to have a normal childhood, it was what I wanted for Mary.” Something Natalia had never been able to have. “Anyway, we got all of you out of the park and I took care of the threat. Then Stark took you, your mother and Ana to the penthouse before we went back to mansion on 5 th —they snuck Mary and I in via laundry truck. Once inside, we made an agreement. He would help me with supplies and intelligence to locate James and I would give him my blood for research. He wanted the serum.”

“Dad experimented on you?” Horror crept into his voice.

“No, he just took my blood. He wanted to separate the serum out…wanted to understand what it could do… and I think that’s how he developed the serum he had when they sent James after him.”

Silence punched the air again and Tony’s grip threatened to crush her hand. His breathing turned harsh, and she focused on the horizon, giving him a moment.

The Starks might have died because of what she’d done.

“How,” he began, then cleared his throat. “How long were you with him?”

“We didn’t stay there, I kept my apartment in Brooklyn and only ever told Edwin and Ana where it was. Stark ordered him not to tell him where I was staying and Edwin gave me his word he’d never betray it. I wasn’t sure what it was worth…”

“He would never have betrayed a promise. Jarvis… he was the best.” The grief in Tony’s voice pulled at her own. “I don’t think I would have survived losing my parents without him and Ana. I know I wouldn’t have survived my childhood.”

“He said as much. They helped me with Mary and Mary was very fond of them. If I’d asked, they would have taken her.”

“Why didn’t you?” Real curiosity lived in his voice. “I mean it would have been weird, I guess, later knowing you and growing up with your daughter, but they would have been fantastic parents.”

“I know,” she admitted. “I know they would have been, but they were too close to Stark and to Carter. There were already people making attempts to take you and I took care of them, but what happened when I wasn’t there? Stark and Carter were linked to Steve who was linked to James. I couldn’t risk Mary to those connections.”

No, she had to build a whole new life for her. Tears burned in her eyes as she stared at the sunrise, the pinks and reds striped with orange as the sky grew brighter and brighter.

Here she was… she’d made it to another day and fuck it hurt.

“I had to keep Mary safe, it was the only thing I could give her. As the months passed, I kept watch on the newspapers and Stark gave me intelligence reports looking for any sign of James. Carter figured out I was there and finally came around though she was never thrilled. The longer I stayed in Brooklyn, the deeper the connections I formed, the more I knew I couldn’t stay near her. They would come for me sooner or later and it was better for me to be well away from her.”

Swiping a hand over her face, she let out a shaky breath. “Stark and Edwin helped me with finding some potential candidates and their background checks, but I never told them who I picked, never told them the arrangements I made and I never said goodbye to Stark or Ana or your mother. Only to Edwin. I felt I owed it to him and to warn him that if he ever saw me again…”

“Red, I’m sorry,” Tony whispered. “You wanted to protect us then from you.”

Natalia nodded. “Seemed only fair.” She gave him a small smile. “You were a cute kid.”

“God, don’t say that,” he muttered with a grimace. “Hard to hit on you if you see me as some four-year-old who mouths off.”

“Who says I didn’t see you as a toddler who mouthed off before?” The little tease was weak but it got her a bark of a laugh.

“You know, you’re not wrong,” he agreed. “I’m a mouthy bastard.”

She chuckled. “You’re not so bad.”

“Yeah, Steve said you even wanted your date with me back.”

Steve told him?

The corner of his mouth kicked up and his grip lessened some, letting feeling return to the tips of her fingers. “Surprised?”

“A little,” she admitted. It seemed so long ago that she’d told Steve and James about wanting to give Tony his date back, about wanting to be able to understand all of this.

“Me, too,” he said. “And I’m not holding any of you to it, promise. Flattering that you want to take me out though.”

Natalia studied him. “Why are you lying to me?”

“Because telling you the truth puts you in a bad spot, Red. You don’t want me to tell you I love you or that I want a hell of a lot more with you. Even if you do, you really don’t need it, especially right now.” He lifted his free hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Finish looking up Will, find out what you need to know.”

“Tony…”

“Nope,” he said, pressing a finger to her lips. “This time, I’m telling you not to say it. You want that date, you got it. After. After all of this, after you heal… especially since your heart is broken at the moment and only a blind man wouldn’t see it. My feelings aren’t that fragile, I’m just happy you’re here and still likely to kick my ass.”

Catching his finger, she lowered his other hand to where he held hers. “I do care.”

“I know you do,” he said. “I’m pretty awesome that way.”

She chuckled, tears burning in her eyes were aggravating her. Everything was so on edge. So raw.

“Look up your boy,” he said, clearing his throat before lifting both of her hands to kiss them and release. “It’s going to drive you nuts until you do.”

Flexing her right hand, she looked at the screen and tapped it to wake it up again. Blowing out a breath, she stared at Will’s name and then typed in William Fitzpatrick, Queens.

Tony gave a little jolt next to her as search results began to populate the screen. The first one was an obituary dated from 2007.

2007.

He’d been alive while she was at SHIELD.

The obituary listed he’d been buried next to his wife at a cemetery in Queens, he’d been a widower, never remarried. Survived by… wait, he was survived by a grandchild.

“Red…”

William Fitzpatrick was predeceased by his wife Natalie and their only child, a daughter.

Predeceased.

“Red… shit. Friday, get Bucky and wake him up. Steve, too.”

Natalia re-read every line, then with shaking fingers changed the search to Mary Fitzpatrick. She knew that name.

“C’mon, Red, we need to stop now, let Bucky get here.”

No obituaries for Mary Fitzpatrick. But Will had a grandchild—she had to have married. Married…

Parker.

Richard and Mary Parker.

Plane crash.

2006.

CIA operatives.

She’d read the file.

Tracked the explosives used. But it had all been a dead end at the time and they’d pulled her for a different mission.

Parker.

Peter’s parents.

Ice shivered over her skin.

That was why the name was familiar.

“Why don’t I just take us back, Red? Yeah?”

They’d been in the file Tony gave her.

Will died while she was at SHIELD.

Mary died while she was at SHIELD.

She could have seen them both.

“C’mon, Red,” Tony said wrapping an arm around her. The cloak tightened and she couldn’t keep her grip on the tablet as it fell from her shaking fingers.

Natalia couldn’t see beyond the lines repeating in the story.

She’d just walked away from them.

They were both dead.

Someone killed her daughter and her husband and Natalia had been pulled off the case. Had it ever been solved?

Someone killed…

“Jesus, I’m sorry, Red.”

The scream came from somewhere, reverberating through her and the sound wouldn’t stop. It was like a building collapse, the roar of it punctuating every sound as it tore through her.

He said something else, but the words couldn’t get past the roaring. The splintering cracks in the dam gave way even as he rocked her. The cloak’s grip and Tony’s weren’t going to keep her together.

She was broken.

~~~

Something cool washed over her face, the chill of it rousing her from the darkness. Her eyes hurt as she forced them to open. Another brush of coolness pressed against the back of her neck. The room was quiet, shadowed, and cool. Lifting her sore eyes, she found James giving her a small smile.

“Shh, Kotyonok,” he crooned in that soothing tone, then began wiping her face again with that cool, damp cloth. “You’re safe.”

“She died, James.” The words came out as broken and jagged as she was.

“I know,” he said, holding the cloth to her cheek and dipping his head to hers. “I know.” The hot tear landing on her cheek wasn’t hers. Winding her arms around him, she clung to him as he hauled her up.

The burn in her eyes increased as another sob broke out of her. She’d had less painful wounds at the hands of the Mandarin and she’d rather be shot than the agony tearing away at her.

“She’ll never know us now,” Natalia whispered. “I took all that away.”

“Stop it,” James said abruptly, lifting his tear-stained face to stare at her. “You  _ saved _ her. You gave her a good life.”

A life that led her to… “Someone killed her, James. Someone planted that bomb and killed her and her husband. They had me investigating it, but after I tracked the bomb parts, Nick pulled me for another mission and let the CIA handle it. How is that saving her? I didn’t even get the sons of bitches who killed her.”

“Then we find out and we put them in the ground if they’re not,” he said as simple as if they were discussing going to the store to get milk. “But you saved her, you had to tear out your own heart to walk away from her and you found her a good home.” He let out a shuddering breath. “A good man to raise her.”

“Tony told you.” It wasn’t a question.

“He kind of had to, Doll, you weren’t talking,” he said, the corner of his mouth kicking a little higher. “Is that why you thought I’d hate you? Because you married someone, you built a cover and a life to get Mary away?”

She swallowed. “I liked him.”

“Good,” he said, then dragged her close and she buried her face against his throat. “Good, I’m glad he was a good man. If you liked him, he must have been a great one.”

It hurt so much.

He rubbed her back. “I know this is hard, Natalia. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling at the moment.”

“I was just there,” she whispered. “It feels like I just walked away and began leaving a breadcrumb trail for you to find me. Even as I did it, I knew I wouldn’t…I didn’t think it would work, but I had to try. If there was even the smallest chance of getting you back.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I wish like hell they’d killed me so you could have stayed free.”

She dug her fingers into him. “No.”

“Shh, I know, I know.” He fisted her hair. “I’m sorry.” It was a contest for which of them had the harshest breaths. The tears kept spilling. “I want to make this better for you, but I don’t know how.”

There was no way to make it better.

“I wanted to bring you back to her,” she whispered. “I wanted to see her again…even if I couldn’t know her, I wanted to see her. I wanted us to see her.”

Then there weren’t words, she just clung to him as he hugged her. She held him as he cried and he never let her go as she did. Her eyes were nearly swollen shut and her head hurt terribly by the time she was just sniffling. When his arms eased back, she met his equally devastated gaze and then cupped his face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered in a raw voice.

“Me, too,” he answered in a similar rough tone. “But we have a grandchild. A fact I’m trying to wrap my mind around because you do not look like a Babushka, Kotyonok.”

She sniffled, then laughed and it jumbled the broken bits of ice around inside of her as a fresh tear fell.

_ “You remind me of my mom.” _

She swallowed around the lump. When James put the cool cloth to her face again, she winced.

“Yeah, my face hurts, too,” he admitted. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. His nose shiny. Hers probably didn’t look much better. After easing her back against the pillows, he scooted over to the dish and soaked the cloth in water again before squeezing it out and laying it against her eyes.

“Where are we?” It was quiet, all she could hear was their breathing, their sharp little breaths punctuating the silence against the echo of tears.

“Private suite,” he murmured. “Stevie asked T’Challa to get us away from everyone. The kids weren’t awake yet, but we wanted distance between you and Wanda and to give you someplace to wake up without any pressure.”

Head tilted back, she blew out a breath.

Then he was running a cloth along her arm and she tried to smile. “James…”

“Just let me look after you,” he said. “Please. I know it hurts.”

She hadn’t even read what had killed Will. An accident? Natural causes? He’d survived Mary. Peter might even have known him. Though Peter had never mentioned him.

Then again why would he mention his grandfather?

Another spasm of pain flashed through her.

Peter.

The serum. The spider.

_ “So my serum isn’t attached to my DNA?” _

_ “It is—but your DNA has abnormalities anyway…it’s very specific and even separating the serum out, it won’t work with someone who doesn’t have your DNA without a lot of manipulation.”  _

_ _

_ “It was to one of the science divisions of Oscorp. Everyone in the STEM club got to go. But the presentation was boring and they weren’t telling us anything we didn’t already know, so when they took us on the guided tour of the lab level, I went looking. I was just curious…” Despite his defensive words, he grew glummer by the second. “I ended up in this little lab where they were working on infusing Oz with some animals, testing the effects. I’d kind of heard about Oz when I was doing research on Oscorp…by hackingtheircomputersandreadingfilesIwasn’tsupposedtoread.” _

_ The last came out a garbled mess, but Natasha understood it. _

_ “Dr. Stillwell was using a recombinator and I wanted to see what it was like, I didn’t realize they were trying to synthesize something like Captain America’s super serum, but the files…they said they were working with a derivative as part of a joint international project.” _

_ Her heart sank. _

_ “The recombinator was supposed to make it stronger, or keep it from breaking down. Lots of the animals they tested it on didn’t make it, but they had one spider that apparently got into the tray with the serum they were using and hit with the rays from the recombinator. They hadn’t figured out what it did.” _

_ That was a lot of detail. _

_ “What happened to the spider?” _

_ Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “I may or may not have knocked over the tray where they had its housing. And when I tried to put it back—it bit me.” _

_ “Do you know what kind of spider it was?” _

_ He turned a hot red and looked away, his mumbled response too low for her to understand. _

_ “What?” _

_ “A black widow.” _

_ Irony. It was not a term she enjoyed in any facet of her life. _

_ “And after it bit you?” _

_ “It kind of died…” Peter grimaced. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did, so I kind of hid it and then left. Nothing happened right away, except I got real sick. Like really sick. I don’t think I’ve ever been that sick before. Aunt May and Uncle Ben were real worried. Then I got better, and I wasn’t just better, I was stronger and I was faster and I could do all kinds of things and sometimes it was like I just knew that I could…and it was fun.” _

It had been right there in front of her and she hadn’t seen it. Why would she? There was so much else going on. If he was Mary’s son then he would have her DNA. He would have James’.

“Tell me about him?” James asked quietly. “Tell me about Fitzpatrick.”

A part of her didn’t want to share. She wanted to hold the history tight and keep it safe. But James deserved to know. “I liked him,” she repeated what she’d said earlier. “He was funny and he was kind. He was smart, not just academically but truly clever. He was an analyst and linguist for the CIA.”

“A linguist.” James let out a faint chuckle. “That fits. You’d have wanted Mary to have help if she had your ear for languages.”

“That was part of it, but I also wanted someone who wouldn’t view the world through a narrow lens. I was leaving her with an American…we were Russian. And yes, James, I know you weren’t but…”

“No, I understand,” he murmured, running the cloth along her other arm. The damp cloth on her eyes helped, but it couldn’t undo the ache in her soul.

“There were several men I vetted, looked at their backgrounds and then met them. I chose innocuous locations…”

“You cased them like a mark.” Yes, he knew her well.

“Knowing who they were on paper was one thing, I wanted to know them in person. Will… he was the only one who seemed remotely interested in me as a person. He had a delightful sense of humor and he was… he was kind. He would push himself out of his comfort zone to explore things like art museums and gallery openings because he happened to meet me at one. More, he seemed to want to know me. Well, he wanted to know Natalie. He really liked her. Liked who she became to him.”

Telling him all of it was like living it all over again. The dates. The conversations. The fact he tried to put a tracking card on her three times and how she controlled the environment when they met.

“And you didn’t think the fact he wanted to track you was suspicious?”

“I thought it was healthy paranoia,” she pointed out, tugging the cloth off her eyes. Oh, they stung as she blinked in the dimness of the room. He took the cloth from her hand and soaked in the cool water again.

She stole the other cloth and rubbed it against his face, carefully cleaning the tears. “I thought he was a clever man who wanted to avoid being suckered into the kind of trap I was laying for him and if he wanted to do his due diligence, then I could hardly fault him for it.”

“Of course not,” James said, his smile almost indulgent. “That would have likely intrigued you more.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Probably only to me, Natalia,” he said, softening the observation with a kiss to her forehead before catching her hand and pulling the cloth from his face. “Lay back again, your eyes look bad.”

“They feel pretty bad,” she admitted. Then he was laying a cloth over her eyes again.

“Tell me how he was with Mary…”

“I wouldn’t let him meet her at first, didn’t even tell him about her. Only ever met him away from her.” She licked her lips. “Edwin and Ana—they were the Jarvises, they would keep Mary for me when I went on the dates. Then one evening, he asked me about going away together for a weekend and I asked him if it was only for sex. He had kissed me once or twice, but always respectfully and kind. He admitted it wasn’t, it was more about building something, so I told him I had a daughter…”

Then she told him the rest. Told him of how she led him to believe she was a widow. How they’d eloped away from their “families” and that her husband had died after being drafted. James listened to every word. When she told him about the hurried wedding and the adoption, she had to drag the cloth off her eyes to see him.

“He loved Mary,” she admitted. “He was so good with her. We spent her second birthday with her…that was the last day before I left. By then, she had accepted him and I’d weaned her and she was thriving. I knew my absence would hurt for a while but she would forget me.”

“Because she’d already forgotten me,” James said slowly and Natalia closed her eyes. He sighed. “That was for the best. No mourning for her. Only joy with someone who would be there.”

“I’m so sorry…”

He pressed her palm to his lips and kissed it. Then he slid the ring back onto her right hand. She blinked, looking from it to him.

“I told you,” he said. “I love you. I know what you did and why you did it. I couldn’t love you more if I tried. You had the much more difficult task than I and now you have all that pain and if I could…”

She shook her head. “I want this pain.”

“I know,” he said, then kissed her finger over the ring. “I wouldn’t trade it away either. She was happy with him? He made her smile.”

Natalia nodded. “For the time I was there, yes. I may have to dig to find more… I want to dig and know more I want to know it all.” Even if it gutted her. “Will and I talked about her education, about the things I wanted for her and I made sure he had money, a lot of money. I isolated them away from the Starks so that they couldn’t be used to find her. Edwin could have figured it out but I asked for his word that he wouldn’t. He and Ana loved her, too. But I couldn’t leave her there.”

Then she had to tell him about how she left, the strangler, staging her “death” and then walking away. Somewhere in all of it, she filled him in about Peggy and Howard, the parts they played.

“They knew I was alive,” he said slowly.

She nodded. “But they couldn’t do anything about it, you were a ghost story. I rather suspect they looked, but they never found you.”

“But they found you,” he said. “Or at least Peggy might have. She wasn’t director anymore, but when Clint brought you in, someone had to have signed off on letting you survive beyond just Fury.”

Maybe. But Carter was gone now, too.

“They’re all gone.” The Starks because Howard had developed that serum and it might have been because of what she’d done. Would she ever know? Tony lost his family after his family saved hers.

Tony.

“I’m sorry you lost him, Doll, he sounds like a guy I might have liked.” The simple acceptance in his voice cracked her all over again. “I’m glad he was good to you and to her.” He traced his fingers over her cheek. “If you could have stayed with him…”

“I could have never stayed,” she said. “Even if I hadn’t needed to get you, as long as I was there, I was a threat to Mary. I’d have been a threat to him. At least with his security training and knowing that there was a family somewhere that would try to take her away, he would have shielded her, shielded Natalie’s past, and he would have a family. Even if I ended up hurting him to do it.”

That regret would not dissipate.

James scooped her up and shifted on the bed to sit with her curled in his lap. There wasn’t anything else to say. The light moved on the wall as they sat, she had her hand over his heart and he rubbed her back. After a while, he offered to make tea and she followed him from the room to a small kitchenette. It was similar to the suite she had been in earlier.

Cloaky waited outside the room and as soon as she stepped through it wrapped around her in a hug.

“Thank you,” she told it, stroking the fabric once. “We needed the time.” It bobbed a little then stayed with her as she moved to the kitchen. There were covered plates of food on the counter and James was reading a note. He held it out to her before he opened the first one.

_ You both need to eat. I’ll be back to check on you. – Steve. _

_ _

“Where is he?” she asked.

“Went with Tony,” James said. “He was pretty busted up for you and Stevie wanted to give us time.”

That sounded like Steve. “He told me that he offered to step back if I didn’t remember him.”

“Yeah well, he’s a punk,” James said before he poured hot water into the mugs. “You think you can eat?”

She had no appetite. “I can try.”

The food was a stew and it smelled rich and savory. She managed three bites, but her heart just wasn’t in it. When James slid the tea in front of her she wrapped her hands around the mug.

“I didn’t hurt Tony, did I?”

“No, Doll, you didn’t. It was killing him that he couldn’t help you. You were… you were pretty upset.”

Broken. She’d been broken. “It wasn’t his fault.”

“He knows that,” James said. “But he loves you and it hurts to see you hurting.”

Natalia met his gaze. It hurt her to see James hurting. “I don’t know what we do now.”

“Yes, you do,” he said quietly. “We take care of each other, we look after Stevie and we tell Peter when you’re ready.” After a swallow of tea, he said, “And when you’re ready, I’m taking you out of here and away, like you asked.”

“Steve?”

“Can go with us, Tony, too if you like, but we’re going somewhere you can heal your heart. Peter can come, too. But we’re sending Clint to his family, even if we have to lie to him that you’re okay, to do it.”

A smile tugged at her mouth. “Yes, he needs to go see them.”

“But he’s not leaving you while you need him.”

“I’ll be okay,” she said. “I have you and Steve.” And Tony.

It was all so messy and it hurt.

“I miss her,” she admitted even as the tears started all over again. The first one barely fell before James plucked the tea from her hand and had her close. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Me, too, Doll. Me, too.” 


	74. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are stages to our grief

**Chapter Seventy-Four**

_ Anger _

**Bucky**

He traded out the cloth on her eyes for a fresher, cooler one. The fact Natalia had finally gone to sleep offered him the first moment of relief in the hours since Friday woke them to an emergency. The last thing he’d expected to find was not only was Natalia not in the bedroom, but she also wasn’t even in the building. With Friday giving them directions, he and Steve both ran, Steve made it to her before he did but he didn’t care. One of them was there.

Natalia was near catatonic. The cloak had been wrapped around her and Tony had been trying to hold her, relinquishing her to Steve even as Bucky reached them. Her eyes were open, but the tears rolling down her face wouldn’t stop and she kept rocking, the faint choking sound ripped through him.

“What the fuck happened?”

Tony’s tortured eyes focused on him. “She was looking up Will Fitzpatrick.”

The name meant nothing to him. A glance at Steve who was cradling her carefully even if she didn’t seem aware of them cramped his gut. Steve shook his head. He didn’t know the name either.

“Fuck,” Tony raked a hand through his hair as he looked at her. “She said she married a guy named Fitzpatrick as her cover, to give Mary a home.”

The news sank into him like a lead weight dragging him down. It made sense. Natalia had to find a safe harbor for Mary. They’d known that. She had to have gotten her a home. Marrying someone—even if it turned his stomach upside down made sense.

“What did she find?”

Tony raked a hand through his hair again, he looked like he’d just walked into hell and was nearly as pale as Natalia. There was a tablet on the ground that the other man rescued and then he stared at Bucky, almost stricken.

“He died…”

Bucky wasn’t going to leap to a conclusion.

“She found his obituary,” Tony coughed on the last. “It said his wife and daughter predeceased him. He was survived only by his grandson.”

The tablet seemed to shake in Tony’s grip but Bucky took it with his right hand, not quite trusting his left at the moment.

“Buck…” Steve’s voice had gone hoarse but Bucky looked at the screen and read the article.

He read it twice.

“What’s the name of Peter’s mother?”

He’d seen pictures at the apartment of his parents. Beyond the fact they’d died, Bucky hadn’t paid much attention to it. The kid didn’t bring it up around him. The uncle’s death, once. His affection for Natalia, definitely. His aunt May, too.

“Mary,” Tony answered, confirming it. “Mary Fitzpatrick Parker, she married Richard Parker in the late 90s.”

Mary Fitzpatrick Parker.

Bucky looked at Natalia again, she hadn’t moved and the tears were still falling. He passed the tablet back to Tony. “Thank you.” Then he moved to Steve. “Give her to me.”

Steve rose with her in his arms and offered no argument as he eased her over to him. The cloak was making her lighter but it wouldn’t let her go. For right now, it could stay. Natalia didn’t shift her gaze nor did the tears stop falling. Agony seemed etched into her eyes.

“I’ve got you,” Bucky murmured.

“C’mon,” Steve said.

“You guys can…”

“Tony,” Steve repeated. “C’mon, you don’t look like you’re doing all that well either.”

Bucky left Tony to Steve and carried her back toward the palace. An escort had followed them but kept their distance. It didn’t surprise him when T’Challa and his general made an appearance even before they made it to the doors.

Steve tugged Tony ahead and whatever he said got a nod. Bucky was fine with them running the interference, Natalia hadn’t said a word and she hadn’t stopped the tears. This—this wasn’t like her and he’d only ever seen her come close to this state once before and it hadn’t been this bad.

Loss scored deep into his chest. He’d left them to save them and she’d lost everything anyway to save their daughter.

Steve pulled the door when he got there and Tony waited for them inside. “T’Challa’s giving us a second suite, it’s on the other side of the palace in a different wing. It will give her some distance from Wanda, there’s no way Wanda won’t pick up on this and I don’t know if you’re ready for Peter to drop in.”

His grandson? Yeah, that would take time to wrap his mind around. He liked the kid, but this was something else altogether.

“Thanks,” Bucky said and his throat ached. A part of him wanted to punch the wall. Why had she gotten up at dawn to dig and verify what she’d “remembered.” The rest of him understood it—he’d disappeared from the Tower and gone to Montana with Clint and he’d kept secrets from her for days so she wouldn’t know what he’d recalled.

Of course, she’d confirm the memories.

Dammit, why couldn’t she have found good news?

Tony moved with them, but he was uncharacteristically silent. The lack of his often wry and sarcastic observations worried Bucky nearly as much as Natalia’s stillness.

The suite they were escorted to looked much the same as the one they had, but all Bucky cared about was that it was quiet and isolated. He carried Natalia into the bedroom and settled her on the bed. The cloak was still wrapped around her. Her eyes were still full of hell.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. Then he looked at the cloak. “Stay with her?” He doubted he could peel the cloak away at the moment, but he’d figure it out if he had to. As it was, he strode back out to the living room where Tony stood, arms folded and expression haunted.

“I’m sorry,” he said almost immediately. “As soon as I realized what it said, I couldn’t…”

“You recognized the name.” It wasn’t a question.

Tony nodded and Steve scrubbed his hands over his face.

“I had no idea,” Tony said. “I mean I should have—Pete told me about how he got his abilities—and I knew about the samples and what Cho said, it was all right there, but Mandarin had her and…”

“It’s not your fault,” Steve said quietly. “None of us knew.” He gripped Tony’s shoulder but he focused on Bucky. “What do you need?”

“I need her.” There was no other answer.

“Buck…”

But he shook his head. He didn’t want the sympathy right now. “Tell Clint. He’ll want to know, but tell him I have it. If I need him, I’ll call him.”

The archer wasn’t going to like it, but this was one time Bucky was going to pull rank on him.

Steve cut a look at Tony then back to Bucky. “I’ll take care of it. Take care of all of them. And I’ll be back to check on you guys. Call me if you need me here faster.”

“If I can do…” Tony hesitated.

“I know,” Bucky told him. He didn’t blame the other man. “Go get some rest, she’s going to be fine. She just needs time.”

Then they were gone and he’d persuaded the cloak to leave them. Now, Natalia was sleeping—truly sleeping and the cloak draped over her like a protective shield. In the quiet, he could pull out the feelings he’d stuffed down. The grief was right there; the tears at the back of his throat and his face ached from shedding them.

He would have to have been a fool to think they’d get her back. A part of him had wished he’d never told her. Every single bad thing that she’d gone through since he told her the truth and at the same time—there was no way to keep that information from her.

Fighting to get her memories back, she’d said she didn’t care what the cost was and he was looking at the cost right now.

Anger threaded through his veins. The people who did this to them—were still inflicting that damage all these years later. Mary Elizabeth was gone. The anger turned to rage and he had nothing to hit or to pummel. He couldn’t fight Natalia’s ghosts because they haunted him, too.

Rubbing his hand over his face, he stood. The door opened in the other room and he moved to intercept. It was probably Steve, but he couldn’t assume anything. He’d heard him come in and leave earlier, obvious for the food that Natalia hadn’t really eaten.

Steve was already looking at the barely touched food. “Hey…”

“She’s asleep,” he told him and it came out harsher than he intended. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said. “You just focus on you. What do you need?” He’d asked him that earlier and the answer hadn’t changed. “Shower? I can sit with her.”

Yeah, he probably should shower. Shave. But he didn’t care about his appearance. He didn’t care about much right now. “Is there a tablet?”

“What?” Steve asked.

“The tablet Natalia and Tony had…”

Steve twisted and looked. “No, I think we took it back with us. Hang on. I’ll get you one.” Then he was striding out of the room.

Flexing his hands, Bucky checked his pockets for his smokes. Not that he had any. Those like their phones had been on the damn quinjet which was probably back at the Tower.

Pivoting, he returned to the bedroom. Natalia hadn’t moved. The soft, even sounds of her breathing—a little nasally and damp from her swollen sinuses tugged at him. With care, he traded out the cool cloth again. When she’d come apart at the cabin it had been bad.

This was so much worse.

He’d seen her beaten, tortured, and abused—but he’d never seen her in this kind of pain before. He wanted to kill what caused it and there was no way to do that. Death and loss had already inflicted their damage. Smoothing the hair back from her face, he pressed a kiss to her forehead as it tightened. Then it relaxed again and he straightened.

No, the nightmares didn’t get to have her. Not now.

Not ever again.

“Friday,” he said quietly, his gaze tracking to her bracelets.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” Friday’s voice was equally soft.

“Is the house ready?”

“Almost,” she said. “I sped up the process after Los Angeles. It should be fully outfitted in the next forty-eight hours, systems online in seventy-two. It is fully secure, the closing was completed, all deeds filed and buried. Utilities are functioning and the arc reactor installed.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, is there anything else I can do for you or for Nat?”

“Stock it up?”

“It will be,” she promised. “All the rooms will be ready, too.”

“Thanks, Friday.”

“Is Nat going to be alright, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Yes,” he said, definitively. “She will be. She just needs time.”

“Then we will make sure she gets it. Resuming sleep mode.” Which meant she would resume her quiet monitoring. Not once during the whole conversation did Natalia’s breathing change nor did she shift.

When the door opened in the other room, he forced himself to leave her. Instead of closing the door, he kept it cracked. If she moved, at all, he wanted to be there.

“Got it,” Steve said as he held it out.

“You didn’t have to go all the way back.”

“I didn’t mind.”

“Any trouble with the kids?”

“No,” Steve said. “Shuri invited Wanda and Peter out to explore and so she could show off some things.”

That was a relief.

“Clint’s sitting with Tony right now. He’s still beating himself up over the fact he didn’t stop her.”

Bucky shook his head. “No one can stop a determined Natalia.”

“I’ve seen you do it.” The quiet comment amused him.

“You’ve seen me delay her,” he said, dropping onto the chair and pulling up a search. He typed in William Fitzpatrick and it opened her earlier search. The obituary was right up top, but he knew that part so he skipped it and looked for what else he could find.

Steve moved in the kitchen and the scent of coffee brewing teased at him. Then he was back with water. “Drink.”

Giving him a look, Bucky took the glass but kept skimming until he found a picture. It was from some event in the nineties. William Fitzpatrick stared up at him and Steve paused.

“Is that him?”

One nod. But it wasn’t the man that held Bucky’s attention it was the woman standing next to him, she had Natalia’s smile, the one that dared whoever she was talking to keep it up. An almost knowing smirk. Her hair was cut shorter, almost a pageboy, but he didn’t have to try to imagine the red likely in her hair, maybe in the sun. It was darker though.

Natalia had been right about that.

He couldn’t make out her eye color, but he could see hints of Becca in her cheeks, but her mouth and her attitude—that was all Natalia.

Mary.

She was grinning at Fitzpatrick. He wore a fond, almost indulgent look.

Bucky was damn grateful to the man and a part of him wanted to smash his face in.

He got to raise his daughter.

This—guy that didn’t know them, had never known them and could never know them, got to raise the most precious thing in the world to them.

“She’s beautiful, Buck.”

“She looks like Natalia.” Bucky scrolled through the article then back up to the photo. He went back to the search, found another piece about Fitzpatrick, Mary wasn’t in the photo but it discussed the Brooklyn Heights strangler and he’d been interviewed about the death of his wife.

Aware of Steve, he kept going through article after article. A part of him wanted to search Mary, but he wasn’t sure he could handle it so he tried to know Will, to see what Natalia saw.

The information was slim. If he worked for the CIA, that made sense.

Steve set a mug of coffee down and then placed a sandwich in front of the screen. For some reason, it made him laugh.

“Some meat, cheese, mustard and two slices of bread,” Steve told him. “You can do it.”

“You did a sandwich on purpose.”

“Maybe. But I’m all out of hot dogs to torture you with by building one the way she described it.”

Bucky grimaced and then set the tablet down before he looked at the sandwich. Like Natalia earlier, he had no appetite. “I owe this guy and I hate him.”

“I know,” Steve said. “You’re allowed.”

“No,” he said slowly. “I’m not.”

“Buck…”

He shook his head. “Natalia chose him because he would be good for Mary, I can’t hate him for having what I wanted. Because he took care of her.” He’d given Natalia some peace of mind before she let Bucky catch her and then he broke her bones and dragged her back into that hell.

“Eat the sandwich, Buck. Drink the coffee. One step at a time.”

The quiet words pushed at him and every cell in his body wanted to push back. Steve didn’t get to tell him what to do. He clenched his fist and then forced it to open and when he met Steve’s gaze, all he found was understanding. It sapped his fury.

“If you need it, we can go beat the crap out of each other. I’ll call Clint, he can come over and sit with her.”

As tempting as the offer was, Bucky rejected the idea of leaving her at all. “Thanks. Need to be here.”

“Yeah, I thought you might.” He motioned to the sandwich before he sat on another chair and cradled his own cup of coffee. “You need to take care of you to take care of her.”

“You’re enjoying that,” Bucky said. “Bullying me into taking care of myself.”

“Only a little,” Steve said with a faint smile. “I’ll enjoy it more later.”

Taking a bite of the sandwich, Bucky glanced at the tablet again. He chewed almost mechanically and swallowed it without tasting anything.

“You want me to look?” The quiet question offered him a lifeline.

“Not yet,” Bucky said. He needed to do it soon though, to find what there was before Natalia did. But he couldn't get past the fact his little girl had grown into that beautiful, self-possessed woman with Natalia’s smile.

What had she been like? Smart, probably. Like her mother. Did she have Natalia’s gift for language?

He worked his way methodically through the sandwich then washed it down with coffee.

“Are you going to tell Peter?”

“We haven’t gotten that far,” Bucky admitted.

“Kid already loves you guys.”

Yeah, Spider-Punk did. “He’s not so bad, pretty good kid. Natalia is crazy about him.”

‘That’s something,” Steve offered and Bucky had to nod.

They couldn’t have Mary, but they did have Peter. But that was not a conversation they could broach until Natalia had healed some of the ravages to her heart.

Picking up the tablet, he cleared his throat and typed in Mary Fitzpatrick Parker and hit enter. 

**Steve**

Helpless was a long-time bitter acquaintance for Steve. Too many times in his life had he stood at the edge, waiting for a moment where he could leap into the fray and affect the outcome. The jobs he’d once gotten to help his mother, the times he’d been the one to persuade Bucky against a foolish decision, meeting Erskine who gave him a chance, being chosen for the program, surviving what they did to him and then being in the right place to get Bucky and the rest of the 107 th out.

Every single one of those chances had taken time and patience to wait out to be in the right place. Even putting the plane in the ice, he’d been able to prevent catastrophe whether it cost him personally or not. That choice let him wake up in the present and what regret he had for those lost years wrapped solidly around the two people whose pain he wanted to ease.

What had Nat told him once? They couldn’t change the past and the future wasn’t a promise, they had the present. It had always seemed like a bleak view to him. Yet watching Bucky stare at that tablet as he researched the daughter they’d now lost twice, he understood it.

Thankfully the kids hadn’t been in the suite front room when they got there, Steve had been able to get Tony off to his bedroom and convinced him to take a shower. After filling Clint in, the other man took charge of Wanda and Peter as they roused. They’d eaten and eventually Tony came out. They were all exhausted, even the kids, so Tony’s weariness hadn’t required an explanation.

Despite the brooding stare, he’d kept it together until after Shuri dropped in and invited Wanda and Peter to join her. Peter’s only concern was about Nat and Steve assured him she was resting even as Shuri said sleep was probably the best thing for her. Their grandson. Steve couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. In his head, their daughter was the baby they remembered even if he’d always known logically she couldn’t be that age anymore.

The silence in the suite after they left had been heavy with everything they hadn’t said to Peter. It wasn’t their place and at the same time, that kid was the living embodiment of everything they’d had taken away. Smart. Determined. Loyal. Headstrong. Loving.

Maybe it was because he was looking for it, but he could see elements of both of them in Spider-Punk. Could biology dictate how quickly one person took to another? Related or not, he was pretty sure Nat would have been fond of the kid regardless. He’d seen her with Clint’s kids and met Remy—another of her orphans. While he didn’t know Remy well, the very clear affection and loyalty the man had for her spoke to the fact Nat…

Nat saved kids.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. She saved kids because at her core that was who she was. It was why so many parts of her past haunted her. The photo she’d found in that vault in Azzano. The child she’d never been allowed to be with the thousand yard stare and the mask of a smile while still covered in the blood of another student she’d had to kill.

Bucky? Bucky had always been great with kids. He’d been his sisters’ champion and he’d saved Steve’s ass more times than Steve liked to count. Time and time again, they’d had what little happiness they’d been able to scrape together ripped away.

Finding an adult Mary would have been an adjustment, but God Steve wished that had been the case. Someone they could see and touch and know, look, there she was, all their sacrifices had been worth it.

Now?

“This is epically un-fucking-fair,” Tony had said into the thick silence, his voice raw and angry.

“Life never promised us fair,” Clint said. “It usually just promises a shitshow.”

“Well thank you for that really unhelpful moment of anti-zen.” Scowling, Tony stood up and headed into the kitchen. “Why is it every damn time we make something happen, it bites us in the ass? We should be celebrating she’s alive, in one piece and mentally capable, instead, she’s shattered.”

He slammed cabinets as he searched through the kitchen.

Clint sighed. “Because they’ve lived a really harsh life, Tony. It hasn’t been fair to them from the word go.”

“Her, you mean,” Tony countered. “It hasn’t been fair to her. At least Bucky got a childhood.”

“It’s not a contest.” The fact Clint could keep his calm helped, but Tony’s frenetic movements increased. “There’s no alcohol in there, man.”

Tony stopped and Steve exhaled.

“We never asked for it and it’s not something automatically provided,” Clint continued. “And if you need to get trashed right now, I think we get it, but ask yourself if that’s what you really want to do.”

Wheeling around, Tony glared at him. “How the hell are you so calm? You’re her best friend, shouldn’t you give more of a damn?” Spoiling for a fight, he pinned a look on Steve. “C’mon, Cap? Where’s the uplifting speech? The righteous guidance? Your best friend? Red? Nothing?”

It would be easy to just give into it and yell, but Tony wasn’t lashing out because he was angry with them. He was angry because he couldn’t fix this. None of them could. “I wish I had something I could say,” Steve told him honestly. “They’re hurting and I can’t take it away. I can’t stand between them and the pain and let it hit me. I’d do it in a heartbeat.” He held Tony’s gaze. “And so would you.”

“I’m calm because Nat’s gonna need me calm,” Clint added, his voice even. “She needs boots on the ground who can watch her back because if she’s as much of a wreck as you say she is—she can’t watch it right now. That pain is going to get worse before it gets better.”

Tony slammed a cabinet door shut and gripped the counter. Head down, he sucked in and blew out angry breaths of air. Steve got it. It was a lot of rage and nowhere to direct it. They literally couldn’t fight this battle. What had Bucky said? This was the hardest fight they’d face because they couldn’t go where she went.

“And as hard as it is for me to say this,” Steve said slowly. “It’s not just about the two of them.”

That jerked both of their attention to him.

“Peter,” he said slowly. “This affects Peter—”

“He’s going to love having Red as family,” Tony argued. “He already said she reminds him of his mother.” All the blood drained from his face and Clint sighed. “Shit.”

“That’s part of it,” Steve said. But there was a much harder piece. “How does she explain it to him?” At no point did she enjoy talking about the Red Room. The bits and pieces Steve had cobbled together before the last few months painted a dark enough picture. “Do you really think she wants to tell him? And if they do—because they might.” Natasha didn’t shy away from the hard roads. Nor did Bucky for that matter. Both of them faced it head on. “How do you think that’s going to make him feel? This is a lot for them to take in. It’s a lot for us. But that kid has no idea and he’s…”

“He’s a good kid, Cap,” Tony said slowly. “He loves Red. He and Bucky are close. He lost his parents, but he’s going to gain them.”

“And all the ugly baggage of their history,” Clint said with a sigh as he leaned forward. “We can’t make that call for any of them.”

“I know,” Steve said. Not only because it wasn’t their place. “I don’t know if I’d want to tell him.” Nat had survived so much crap, opening a vein to tell Peter if he needed to know she was perfectly capable of. Steve wasn’t even sure he wanted her to have to do that.

“You know what I want…” Tony began.

“To blow some shit up?” Clint asked.

“That would be a good start. Not sure it would make me feel better though.”

“Not sure there is a way to feel better, Tony,” Clint said. “There’s only going through. We’ve got them. We’ve got him. He was family before. Though I’d say his chances of dating Wanda and surviving just climbed exponentially. Nat would tear me a new one.”

There was a downbeat and then Steve chuckled. Tony stared at him and then a smile worked its way across his compressed lips. A snorting-chuckle escaped him. “He’d have survived before.”

“Yeah, but I can’t even look at him cross-eyed now.” Whether it was on purpose or not, Clint’s droll observation made Tony laugh a little harder.

“Hey, gotta admire a kid who has a thing for redheads.” The faint smirk on Tony’s face pulled a wider grin from Steve.

“Yes, can’t fault his taste,” Steve said and Tony grinned at him.

The humor evaporated slowly until they were all silent. A knock at the door announced T’Challa’s arrival.

“Forgive me,” he said quietly. “I’m aware that things are not well for Natasha, but we do have other matters we have to discuss.”

The Accords.

“While the announcement of your nuptials has afforded us some time,” he continued, his attention on Tony first, then moving to Steve and Clint. “I believe we would be better to take advantage of this lull to move rather than wait for them to regain their footing, particularly because as of an hour ago, former Secretary Ross was taken into custody on charges of treason, terrorism, and attempted murder.”

“Taken into custody where?” Steve shared a glance with Tony as they both straightened.

“In the United States. He was apparently gift-wrapped and placed at the doors to the United Nations marked…  _ Return to Sender _ .” Amusement curved T’Challa’s mouth. “Currently there is a negotiation and legal battle already beginning for who wants to try him first.”

“Are they actually going to try him this time?” Clint asked, arms folded.

“That remains to be seen, but if we want to use it as a point in our negotiations…”

They needed to do something about it now. T’Challa was right.

Tony pulled out his phone and stared at the screen. “Baby Girl?”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Have you been busy?”

“You asked me to track the attackers in Los Angeles back to their source, Boss. A few friends helped to deliver that source.”

“Logan and Remy,” Clint said. “Along with Hill, Murdock, and Fury.”

“Murdock?” Tony frowned. “Who the hell invited Fury to the party?”

“He gave us Ross’ location, Boss. He tracked Ms. Hill to where she traced Dr. Banner’s path from the Sierra Nevada to Los Angeles. I reached out to Logan and Mr. LeBeau. They were happy to provide backup in order to make sure former Director Fury didn’t disappear with the target. Mr. Murdock accompanied them, I believe as a legal advisor.”

“Tony, you mind if I borrow Friday for a bit and work with T’Challa?” Clint offered. “You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon and I can softball it if they get stupid then say if I have to interrupt…”

Steve snorted, as plans went it wasn’t a bad one and Clint was probably the one most likely to handle it.

“Yeah, she can help,” Tony said. “And Clint? Thanks.”

“Not a problem—if Nat needs me…”

“I will let you know immediately, Mr. Barton,” Friday stated.

After Clint and T’Challa left, Steve scratched at his beard and debated a shower. The honeymoon comment reminded him of the stunt Pepper had pulled. On the one hand he got it, on the other… No, he didn’t.

“I’m not telling her yet,” Tony said into the quiet. “It’s not something she needs to worry about and I’m sure as shit not letting the press anywhere near her.”

“We can’t keep it from her forever,” Steve said and maybe that was obvious. “Is it legal? Since the two of you weren’t actually there?”

“I haven’t looked. I will…and as quickly as she got it done, maybe I can get it undone.” Not that it would deal with the press. “But she’s dealing with losing one husband today, so I think that’s enough.” His mouth twisted on the last and Steve frowned.

Tony had mentioned the Will Fitzpatrick thing. Nat married him as her cover—as Natalie Rogers. Steve rubbed the back of his neck. That didn’t make her marriage any less valid. She’d made a cognizant choice for her daughter or not.

“You know, I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“Me neither,” Tony said. “Except sad and pissed off.”

That Steve understood.

“She found my dad,” Tony said abruptly as he filled a glass with water. “Aunt Peggy, too. Aunt Peggy tried to take her into SHIELD but Red avoided it. Dad helped her because Red saved me and my mom.”

Steve winced.

“She knew my mom, Steve. There’s like so few people left who even knew her anymore, but Red knew her.” He took a long drink, slamming the water back like it was liquor and for the second time that day, Steve was glad there was no alcohol. Though he could appreciate the need for a drink right now. “She gave Dad blood so he could do more serum research.”

Disgust curled in Tony’s tone and Steve leaned back in the seat, folding his arms as he stared up at the ceiling. He wanted to offer him some comfort, but he didn’t have any. Nat had known Peggy and that was strange enough when she described meeting them on a mission. Then she encountered them again, more than twenty years later.

It wasn’t all that hard to picture Peggy and Nat talking. They’d probably have liked each other. They were similar in some ways and so radically different in others.

“You need to sleep,” Steve told him after the quiet dragged out.

“So do you.”

“Not likely to happen.” Right now if he closed his eyes, he’d see her pained ones again. The hell in them when he got there, the soft humming cry escaping her throat. It had been a scream, he’d heard the scream. But then that broke off to that pitiful sound.

“Ditto.”

“I should have said thank you,” Steve said as he leaned forward. He ached from his head to his toes.

“For what?”

“For going after her this morning. If you hadn’t been out there…” He didn’t really want to think about what it might have meant if she’d gotten that news alone.

“Friday said she was on the move and I just—reacted. Didn’t think about it, just followed. I was worried.”

“About what she remembered?”

“A little,” Tony admitted. “Worried something was wrong. Worried something triggered her.”

Triggers.

Code words.

“She has code words,” Steve said quietly and Tony’s fist hit the counter. “She remembered those, too. Something we may want to address sooner rather than later.”

“The psychologist?”

Steve nodded his head.

“We’re making a list, right?” The question and all the malice it implied was something Steve didn’t find any fault with.

“We are and we do it together,” he said and he met Tony’s gaze. On this, they were in lockstep. “And we still need to deal with Bruce and what’s going on with him.”

“Problem contained at the moment,” was his answer. “But you’re not wrong. We’ll do that together, too.”

“And when you have to tell her,” Steve said. “I’ll back you.”

Surprise flickered across Tony’s face. “It’s not your fault.”

“Not yours either. I don’t think she’ll blame you. Somehow I doubt she’ll blame Pepper, but a united front.”

He didn’t think she’d much care at the moment. Later, maybe.

“I told her you said she wanted that date,” Tony admitted and Steve snort-laughed.

“Of course, you did.”

He shrugged. “Told her I was flattered, but I wasn’t holding any of you to it.”

“One thing at a time,” Steve said. It was all they could do at the moment. “But don’t slip with Peter.”

Far from offended, Tony nodded once. “I won’t.”

Only after Clint returned and gave them a quick overview of the meeting did Steve head out to find food for Bucky and Nat. Before he left and while Tony was in the shower, Clint caught his eye. “How are you doing, Cap?”

“I can’t decide,” Steve admitted. “I hurt for them both. I hate the idea she was married. I hate it even more than she’s hurting because of it. I didn’t know them then, but it’s hitting them now. I don’t see a way to make it easier.”

“There isn’t one,” Clint said. “So we do what we do, we watch their backs, we catch them when they slip and we love them.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“Been doing it for sixteen years almost with Nat. It’s never been easy,” Clint told him. “But it’s always been worth it. She expects to be alone, you just have to remind her she isn’t. If her conditioning is breaking at the moment, that might be good in the long run but it’s going to be painful as fuck for a while. You can handle the long haul?”

There was no judgment in that question, but Steve got the feeling Clint was measuring him. Why shouldn’t he? He’d had Nat’s back for years. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m in. All the way.”

“Good. Then remember, you have friends, too. Lean on us when you need it because they are going to be leaning on you. Sometimes—maybe not right away—let her look after you as she gets her center back. She’ll never admit it, but she likes to fuss.”

Steve laughed softly at the description. “That I actually know.” She’d been looking after him for a long time. “Thanks, Clint.”

“No problem, man. Take care of her and  _ call _ me if she needs me. I’ll swing over there later this evening if I haven’t seen or heard from her.”

“Good deal.” He glanced toward the room Tony disappeared into.

“I got him,” Clint said. “Go.”

Clint didn’t have to tell him a second time. Honestly, the last thing he’d wanted to do was leave either of them, but some things were still private and this was definitely one of them. They needed the time, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t bring food and check on them.

Which brought him to the suite living room where Bucky skimmed through images on the tablet. His attention riveted, he barely seemed to notice anything until a rasp of fabric on fabric rustled through the silence. Steve rose as did Bucky, but she was already at the door.

Her swollen, red-rimmed eyes and pale face tore at his heart. “Oh, Angel,” Steve said as she crossed to him, he closed his arms around her as she leaned against his chest and caught Buck’s eyes as he moved to her back and they caged her between them.

They deserved so much more than this agony.

**Natalia/Natasha**

When she opened her eyes again, for an infinitesimally and precious few seconds, she forgot again. She forgot she was gone. She forgot Mary wasn’t still little. She forgot.

Then the memories rushed in, the water overflowing the dam as the memories spilled through her. Tears burned her already sore eyes and she pushed up to look around the room. James was gone and the pain lancing her soul lashed against her heart. Crossing the room, she pulled open the door with Cloaky right behind her.

There he was and then her gaze landed on Steve. His whole expression softened and she went straight to him. Eyes closed she leaned into his chest as James closed against her back and Steve’s arms tightened. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she didn’t try to talk.

Honestly, she was out of words. Pain could be compartmentalized, but she had no walls against this. The dam seemed well and truly broken. She had no idea how long they stood there, but James spread his hand against her back and rubbed it gently even while Steve stroked his fingers through her hair.

“Think you can eat, Doll?” James’ voice was rough. “You barely touched the food earlier.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Not hungry.”

“Probably not,” Steve agreed. “But you need to eat, Angel. You’re still recovering.”

She wanted to snort. There would be no recovering, but he wasn’t talking about what they learned. “I can try,” she offered.

They didn’t need to be worrying about her right now. Turning a little against Steve’s chest, she met James’ sad eyes and raised her hand to cup his cheek. He covered her hand and held it there. The rough bristles scratched at her palm. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to her palm.

“Try is fine, want Stevie to make you a sandwich?” The corner of his mouth kicked a little higher, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Or try the stew again? Whatever you want.”

“Yeah, waffle? I bet I can go find strawberries and whip cream,” Steve suggested. They were sweet, but none of it sounded appealing.

“Whatever is here,” she said. “I’d rather you didn’t have to leave.”

“Then we’ll stay put,” Steve said firmly. “Go sit down, Angel, I’ll grab you guys something.”

James shot him a look, but Steve just smiled and pressed a kiss against her temple. Tugging her gently, James walked with her to the sofa and she curled up against his side. Steve brought over a reheated bowl of stew with thick slices of bread. He settled the tray on James’ lap and there were two spoons.

Perching on the table in front of them, Steve asked, “Do you want tea? Coffee? Just water?”

The concern layered into every word looped over her. “Water,” she said. “Maybe tea after?” She hadn’t really finished the tea earlier.

“Okay,” he said as he rose.

Eyeing the spoons, she made herself pick up one then set it down before taking up the bread, sinking some into the stew to soak up the gravy, she turned and offered the first bite to James. He frowned at her but she didn’t back off. If she had to eat, so did he.

With a sigh, he accepted the bite then tugged her hair gently as he chewed. After, he said, “You eat first, Doll. We know what my appetite is like.”

“Probably not any better than mine,” she scolded and he chuckled.

“No, probably not.”

But she soaked the bread again and then took a bite. It was rich and meaty. The flavors were really good and at the same time, it turned to ash on her tongue. But she made herself chew it.

When Steve came back, he had water for both of them. The next few minutes passed with her taking smaller and smaller bites in between feeding James. After they’d finished all the bread, she sipped the water. “I’m done.”

“You did good,” Steve complimented her and she sighed.

“I ate food, it’s not something that needs an accolade.”

“Maybe not, but I can give you compliments if I want, so suck it up Romanoff.” The barest hint of chastisement punctuating his warm tone pulled a real if reluctant smile from her.

Tucking her head against James’ shoulder, she sighed. There was still so much she had to tell them. So many little things. So many big things. But they didn’t push or ask her anything. When Steve joined them and sat on her other side, she twisted so she could stretch her legs over his lap while still leaning into James.

As the shadows shifted indicating the change in the lights from outside, she asked, “How long before we go back?”

“Need to get the all-clear for you to travel, Angel. But we thought you might need some time before you saw a doctor again.”

“Okay.”

“And I thought we might limit it, too. Especially after you said you had trigger words.”

James went stiff at her back.

“What?”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“No.” The single syllable punched the air with a ferocious force.

“Sorry,” she said, squeezing his arm. “The SHIELD psychologist…”

“Richardson.” Chill licked every syllable of the name.

“Yeah, him. I guess during our sessions, he managed to encode me with trigger words or maybe he just figured out what they were. I didn’t think I had any, I mean not like that. What triggers I had they said we’d worked out. So maybe he was giving them to me instead of taking them away.” At the moment, she couldn’t quite work up the energy to care. “I’m going to guess at some point he had access to the red notebook because he tried your triggers… the ones Zemo used.”

James’ arm flexed around her and Steve’s jaw set.

“But like I told Steve, I never betrayed the Avengers.”

“But he made you do things for him.”

She sighed. “It’s not important.” It was all just an ugly bit of history she didn’t want to think about. “I don’t even know if the words work.”

“Natalia...”

“Angel…”

“No,” she said firmly, meeting Steve’s gaze then twisting to look at James. “No, I’m not going to talk about that or him. None of those missions mattered.”

A muscle ticked in James’ temple. “Then I’ll get it out of Richardson.”

It was so closely echoing what Steve said she sighed. James had seen her abused enough. She was alive, she survived it. It didn’t matter anymore.

“Where is Peter?”

Steve gave her a look at the subject change then closed his hand around her calf before he began to massage it. “He and Wanda went on a tour with Shuri. It will probably distract them for the rest of the day and give you some time.”

“Does he know?”

“No,” James murmured against her hair. “No one is going to tell him.” It wasn’t a question. “Not until you decide what you want to do.”

She closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against James’ arm. “I want to see him.”

“Tonight?” James asked, nuzzling her head. “After you get some more sleep?”

“And a shower,” she said, before tilting her head back to look up at him. “You need one, too.”

“Is that your way of telling me I stink, Kotyonok?”

She smiled. “No, but I think if I need it right now, so do you and I want to take care of you.”

That was all she’d ever wanted.

“You’re finally free of them and you’re here and you’re safe. I want you to stay that way.”

“He will, Angel,” Steve promised and she curled her toes to rub against his leg. “You both will. Now, c’mere…if we’re going to nap, we’re all going to lie down and then you can shower after. We can have Friday wake us up when the kids are back and then we can go have dinner with them if you want.”

Dinner.

Her stomach bottomed out and tears burned in her eyes. Mary had a son. She swallowed and nodded a little. James loosened his grip as Steve lifted her. Their near matching sighs as tears began to escape again had her fighting for her self-possession. It was like all of her control had been irrevocably lost.

But she had a choice, one choice and she was the Black Widow, nothing could take that from her. As much as she hated needing anyone to take care of her, she curled into Steve and closed her eyes as he carried her.

It didn’t take them long to settle down on the bed or for Cloaky to join them.

“No disappearing acts this time,” Steve reminded her and she touched her fingers to her lips then his.

“Promise.”

“Good,” James said then brushed a kiss to her temple. “Sleep Natalia, we’ll be right here.”

Even as she lay there, sleep didn’t rush over her. Neither let her go and she held fast, aware of Steve’s heartbeat against her back and James’ under her palm.

Grief twined with fury, both twisting and cramping through her as she fought to keep her breathing even. Cloaky weighted against her and she understood what it was doing, what James and Steve were doing—the pressure triggered her parasympathetic nervous system. It offered comfort and she let them all.

Attached.

_ “…they took away the one thing that might matter more than the mission.” _

Indelibly attached.

“Angel,” Steve murmured as he began to rub his hand up and down her arm. The gentle petting motion chased away the tangled thoughts and she let her eyes close. For now, she could do this. She could lean on them.

They weren’t going to let her fall any further and maybe, just maybe, they could help her put the pieces back. 


	75. Skazka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalia never believed in fairy tales or particularly liked them that much...

**Chapter Seventy-Five**

_ Skazka _

**Natalia/Natasha**

Natalia had no idea how long she slept but when she opened her eyes, James was still there. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep and regular. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm. The last few months, waking up next to him had been far more precious than she’d realized. They hadn’t had anything like this since the cabin.

The ache inside of her expanded all over again. Steve tightened his arm around her middle and he nuzzled his cheek to hers as she closed her sore eyes fighting the tears welling up.

“I’m here, Angel,” he whispered and she put her free hand over his where he held her.

She let out a shuddering breath and twisted a little so she could see him. He pressed a kiss to one tear that escape and the melted, twisted remains of her heart shuddered. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she said, “Hi.”

“Hey,” he murmured. Even in the half-shadows of the room, his eyes seemed bright. “No bad dreams?”

“It feels dramatic to say being awake is the bad dream right now,” she admitted.

“You’re allowed to be dramatic,” Steve told her. “I know that’s usually my title, but I’m willing to share.”

The corner of her mouth pulled up. Touching her fingers to his cheek, she brushed along his beard to his jaw. He bent his head and touched his forehead to hers and then kissed her lightly, just a brush of lips.

Still stroking his cheek, she blinked back the surge of tears. The sense of loss was like a depthless cavern. Leaving James to that fight when she carried Mary away hadn’t been this bad. Carving away that part of her soul when she walked away from Mary had been a bleeding wound soon cauterized by the chair. Now, all that scar tissue lay shredded.

“Shower?” Steve pulled her from the musings and she nodded a little.

“What time is it?”

He shifted to look at his watch. “Just after six local time. I’m thinking we may have slept a couple of hours.”

“Did you sleep?” She tilted her head.

“No,” he whispered. “But I watched over you two while you did.”

“Thank you.”

He gave her another light kiss. “My pleasure, Angel.”

When she began to pull her hand from James, his grip tightened and his eyes snapped open. His gaze held her riveted as his brow tightened and then relaxed. Then he lifted her hand to his mouth and gave her palm a kiss. “Lyubov moya.” Then his gaze flicked past her. “Punk.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I know who the favorite is.”

James genuine smile wrapped her around much like the cloak did.

“C’mon,” Steve said, tugging her gently. “Gonna get Nat into a shower.”

“Can do that.”

The cloak lifted off of her and she murmured her thanks. It seemed to shake itself out and then took up a position near the door. James rolled off the bed behind them as she trailed Steve into the bathroom. She hadn’t actually looked at this one since she’d been there and the one from that morning, she’d barely noticed. They were huge, the stonework inlaid in the walls was beautiful and the shower was twice the size of the one at the Tower with three jets angled above.

“I’m going to ask Tony for an upgrade,” she murmured, staring at it.

James slipped his arms around her. “I’d have thought you wanted a bigger bathtub.”

She smiled. “I do, but a bigger shower is nice, too. You guys take up a lot of space.”

Steve got the water going and cut a look at her. “Well, you could shower by yourself.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” she retorted. “Much.”

His quick grin made the attempt at humor worth it though her own faded. The dark morass swirled inside of her, a gaping maw and she stroked James’ hands before tugging them away so she could pull off her shirt.

“Do we have clean clothes?” She stared at the grass stains on the tail of the shirt. There were probably some stains on the soft cotton bottoms she was wearing, too.

“They had gift clothes in the closets when we first stayed here—well in the other suite,” Steve said, brushing his knuckles down her arm. “Let me go look.”

Then he slipped out and she turned to find James watching her. His eyes still looked bruised and sore. It both hurt and soothed to be close, to see him. Hurt magnified because she hurt for him, hurt because her actions and choices led to the path where they found more hurt.

Soothed because it was James. He’d been a significant part of her life since she was eighteen. Eighty-six years stretched out behind her and whether she had another eighty-six years, months, weeks, days or minutes, he was James. Her life was better when he was there and it had been empty for a long, long time. Empty until she learned to fill it because people like Logan and Clint refused to leave her alone.

James studied her, his expression gentle but he frowned as his gaze skimmed down to her shoulder. Tilting her head, she turned from him to look at the mirror. The scar, silvery and pale even against her skin had…faded. With two fingers she traced where the bullet wound had been. The kick of it slamming through her a distant echo.

With a gentle touch, he glided his fingers along her side, to where the blade had slammed through her below her ribs. The sword had been so sharp, she’d not felt it pushing through her so much as the shock of blood and the sharp reduction in air, the way her body seemed to fold and gravity sucked at her as the Mandarin lifted her off the ground. It had healed and sealed to a thin pale line—it was also gone.

James frowned as he skimmed his fingers to the waistband of the cotton pants she wore and he peeled it down. The knot of scar tissue that marked where he’d shot through her had diminished significantly.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, his voice dissipating the silence save for the splash of water from the shower.

“Natalia’s scars,” James said softly. Steve appeared in the mirror and she met his gaze as he zeroed in on her abdominal scar, it had smoothed, the pucker of skin flattening. It was still there, but far more silvery than it had been before.

Reaching behind her, she unsnapped the bra and the scar just below her breast was also gone. With unbearable lightness, James moved his hands over her back.

“Gone.”

“What exactly did they do to me?” Uncertainty curled through her.

“Cryo,” Steve suggested. “You said ice baths encouraged your healing.”

“And you rested—for days,” James said slowly. “They gave you vibranium.”

“They did what?” She jerked her attention back up to meet their gazes in the mirror, glancing back and forth.

“The hit,” Steve explained, his voice thick. “They were .50 cal bullets, Nat—” Hesitation marked his next words. Five bucks said they were _ don’t you remember? _

“I remember being in the square…the bomb…then The Other Guy showing up. I remember he hit the suit and hurt but it wasn’t like before.” Tony’s work really was exquisite. She owed him for that. While she spoke, James stripped her pants and panties down in one swoop and then nudged her toward the shower.

So bossy.

She gave her Soldat a look and he returned it blandly.

Stubborn.

With a huff turned sigh, she slid under the water.

“I remember…” Turning her face under the water, she let it soak down her hair before turning to face both of them—still standing outside the shower. Raising her brows, she paused. “Am I showering by myself?”

“Well, you did say we take up a lot of room,” James deadpanned, the barest hint of humor in his pale blue eyes.

“You did,” Steve confirmed.

Natalia snorted. “There’s lots of things I can do by myself,” she pointed out. “I’m very good at them, too.”

“She’s also mean when she doesn’t get her way,” James pointed out. “I’ve always liked that about her.” Since he was clearly talking to Steve, she turned away and reached for one of the wall pumps for shampoo. Was it normal to be torn between wanting to cry and wanting to laugh? Both were semi-hysterical overstimulated reactions.

Movement behind her alerted her a moment before a pair of hands, one warm and the other cool, settled on her hips and then glided up her sides to her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” James murmured before pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “I thought you wanted to play.”

“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted as he pushed his hands into her hair and took over massaging her scalp with such gentle fingers it provoked a fresh wave of tears.

“That’s okay,” Steve said sliding in front of her and nudging her chin up with a finger to meet his gaze. “We’re not going to tease you about being alone again, I promise.”

“No,” James insisted. “We’re not.”

“I’m not that delicate,” she protested.

“I don’t care,” Steve said.

“Stevie’s right,” James continued, teasing his nails so lightly over her scalp it sent tingles down her spine. “The shield Tony built was perfect, Natalia, it saved your life, but the blows still cracked your skull.”

His voice darkened with each word and meeting Steve’s gaze, she saw the same pain reflected there.

“Your brain was swelling,” he added. “They were doing everything they could, but you were in so much pain, Angel.”

“I don’t remember it,” she whispered. “Murky—shadows mostly. Someone asking me if I wanted to do the procedure anyway and then…” Then she was in the past. She was training with James.

With care, James pulled his hands from her hair and Steve tipped her under one of the sprayers, she closed her eyes to let them rinse her hair as she turned over the memories.

Flashes of missions danced under her eyelids, but she pushed them away. Alexei, Leonid, Madame B, Karpov—none of them belonged here. Hair rinsed, she wiped a hand over her face, glad for the water that hid her tears. Although considering the way James and Steve looked at her, it didn’t hide them enough.

“Vibranium?” She nudged, not wanting to relive those other moments. In some ways, they’d broken up Pandora’s Box and there were nightmares lurking in there, but she could cope with those. She’d gotten James and Mary back, even if she’d still lost…

Dammit.

She swallowed, then James surrounded her and she buried her face against his damp chest. “I swear this is going to stop sooner or later…” Misery made for poor company.

Steve stroked her back, before closing the circle against her. Skin on skin, they kept her secure between them. The whoosh of the water, the warmth of their flesh, the weight of their bodies and the strength of their grip all combined to soothe some of the ache.

“Feel what you have to feel, Angel,” Steve told her. “We understand.”

Lifting her head to lean back against Steve’s shoulder, she stared up at James. His lashes were wet, but he found a smile for her. “We do,” he promised. “It comes in waves, Natalia. It all crashed in on you at once, but I feel it. I wish you didn’t have to.”

It was hard to argue when she wished the same for him. Steve kissed her temple. “How are you feeling? Physically? You had a headache yesterday.”

“It’s still a little sore,” she said. “But like an old bruise.” Her heart hurt so much worse.

“Better than yesterday?” James probed.

She gave a little nod. “Tired still, which is…strange. Not tired like I was on the island.” After the formless, she’d had nothing left. No reserves. No strength. No seeming ability to stay awake. “This isn’t that bad.”

“But you’re still tired?” James studied her eyes. At her nod, he added, “Do you still want to see Peter tonight?” The guarded note in his voice niggled at her.

“If you don’t,” she said slowly. “I’ll wait.” It wasn’t just about her, even if she just wanted to put eyes on him. She’d seen him after she woke, she’d hugged him. He was safe. She could wait if she had to.

“Doll, I don’t mind seeing him. I already liked Spider-Punk, I just don’t want it to be more difficult for you than it needs to be.”

“I think it’s going to hurt no matter when I see him.” She closed her eyes as Steve pressed another kiss to her temple. “I loved him already—knowing he’s Mary’s is… it’s alien and strange and I’m not sure I can wrap my mind around it yet. I just…”

“You need to see him,” James whispered, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. “Then we’ll see him. Whatever you want to tell him or not, Natalia. I’ll follow your lead.”

“Do you not want to?” Did she? She had no idea.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She wanted to lock him into a hug and promise him he’d never be alone again, save for the fact that was a nearly impossible promise to make and she’d already failed his mother in that respect.

“Tell him the truth? We can,” James said slowly. “It might be a lot for him to accept.”

Her heart crashed down. “He might not want to know he’s mine.”

“Don’t,” James ordered even as Steve said, “He adores you.”

“Stevie’s right, he adores you, Natalia, he already said you remind him of his mom.”

Tears clawed at her throat.

“After the initial surprise and shock wears off, that kid is going to count himself lucky to be claimed by you.”

“Us, James,” she reminded him, her voice a horrifying waver.

“I think you make up for my lack,” he said with a shrug. “But fine, us. The point is—I will follow your lead on what we tell him and how. If you want him to know then we’ll tell him. If you want to wait, we’ll do that, too.” He opened his mouth as though to continue and then stopped.

But she didn’t need him to say the words. _ We have time _ went unspoken because they’d already crashed headlong into the fact they didn’t. Her Soldat had her back. From their very first meeting even if she’d been unconscious, he had always had her back.

Catching one of Steve’s hands, she squeezed it before she pushed up on her toes and locked her free hand around James’ nape. She pulled his head down and he folded into her, his mouth crashing against hers. Passion ignited, spilling like fire into her blood and raging against the ache in her soul. A distant part of her mind registered the grip Steve returned, his thumb stroking over her knuckles as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

Her nipples tightened where they rubbed against James’ chest and his tongue swept in to tangle with hers. Gasping into the kiss, she ignored the tears leaking from her eyes. James broke from her lips and kissed a path along her jaw before lifting his head and studying her.

“Natalia…”

“I want you,” she said firmly. “Both of you.” With that addition, she twisted to look up at Steve. It seemed ages since the last time she’d really kissed him. As if sharing the same thought he dipped his head, kissing her. Open-mouthed, wet, and demanding as it was giving. He cupped his hand against her breast and James let out a harsh breath turned groan.

Something white-hot and desperate flashed through her as Steve’s cock rubbed against her ass. Skating her hand down James’s chest, she found his and wrapped her fingers around him. As she shaped her hand against him, she stroked him from root to tip. She knew just how much pressure to make him breathless, what would push him and what would tease him.

Steve sucked against her tongue as he flicked her nipple and need twisted like a live wire through her. The cup of James’ hand against her cunt sent a fresh wave of sparks through her system and he captured her clit, applying pressure as he rubbed circles that had her shuddering.

Her foot slid against the tile as she gave James a squeeze and Steve clamped a hand on her hip to keep her steady. When he lifted his mouth from hers, she let out a low keen. James wasn’t giving her time to think before sensation crashed through her, the orgasm caught her off guard and she shook as she met his slow smile and pleased expression. Shudders rippled through her as he eased two fingers into her, scissoring them gently to stretch her.

“How are we doing this?” Steve asked and thankfully, his voice was as strained as hers probably would be. Trapped between them was right where she wanted to be, all feeling and no thoughts. Ripping all of it away.

She’d missed them both.

“Play with Stevie,” James said, giving her a fierce kiss before he eased his fingers free and her hand off of him. Aftershocks pulsed through her and she groaned as he pulled his mouth free and turned her. James slipped out of the shower as Steve lifted her up and then locked his mouth to hers and she drowned in the feel of his lips moving with hers. 

Hitching her thighs to his hips, she clamped her hands onto his shoulders. Slick skin made her grip tenuous, but he shifted his hold, skimming his hands down to clasp her ass and then his cock nestled against her cunt gliding along her labia as she rocked against him.

The low, soft moan vibrating in his throat sent a thrill through her. She tilted her head, changing the angle of the kiss and he dragged a hand up to fist her hair and they moved in sync as he nudged at her entrance. Arching her hips, she sank down on him and he stretched her as he thrust inside. Shudders rippled through her as she carded her hand up into his hair and thrust her tongue against his. Braced against the wall, Steve balanced her as she began to move.

The cool metal of James’ left hand stroked down her back alerted her to his return and she let out a moan as Steve rolled his hips on that last thrust and then stilled. Panting, she lifted her head and met his gaze and the scorching heat in his eyes.

Her system coiled tighter as James drew his fingers down the crack of her ass and then more warmth trickled along her anus before he began to work his finger against her. “You can be patient, can’t you, lyubov moya?” The silkiness of that croon went straight to her cunt and she clenched against Steve. 

He grit his teeth and then groaned. “She might be able to,” he admitted. “But you’re asking a lot, Buck.”

James chuckled and she sighed as he worked his fingers into her then nipped at her ear. She clenched again and twisted meeting his lips for a kiss. Steve’s fingers bit into her as he let out another hoarse groan.

With a nip to her lower lip before drawing it out, James said, “You are loosening swiftly—eager Kotyonok?”

Natalia clicked her teeth at him. Yes, she was eager. She needed them and currently, her whole system was in sensation overload. “It feels like years,” she whispered and his teasing expression faded to something far more intense. The pressure of him adding a third finger had her tilting her body forward and her ass back.

Steve hissed at the shift. She rubbed a hand against his shoulder and twisted to see him staring at her with the same piercing look James wore.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

“Not anymore,” he promised then James replaced his fingers with his cock and the glorious burn of him pushing into her had them all panting as she sank back onto Steve. Their hands were everywhere, adjusting her, balancing her and the hot water continued to jet down over them.

Desire lit her up as James sank to the hilt and Steve pulled out with the same kind of slowness before thrusting and they rocked her between them finding their rhythm as she fought to hold onto them with one hand behind her in James’ hair and the other around Steve’s nape.

When Steve swooped in to kiss her, she met him fierce thrust for thrust. The tangle of James’ hand in her hair pulled her head back and then she was kissing him. Rolling her hips, she chased their orgasms and her own. Though she didn’t need gentleness, they maneuvered her so they were doing most of the work and all she had to do was move with them.

The tight concentration on Steve’s face slipped, he was close and James shifted his angle, every thrust driving her onto Steve and he nailed her sweet spot. Her vision blurred as everything unraveled, the coiled loops of tension burst and she let out a low keening cry as she broke from kissing James. Steve followed her over as she clamped down on them, but James made it another two thrusts before he came.

The heat of their release filled her and she sagged against Steve’s chest, panting even as James leaned into her. Aftershocks pulled through her body and she swore she could feel the pulse of their cocks and every delicious inch of contact against her skin.

Steve rubbed her leg gently and James her nape and it wasn’t until they began to soften that she realized she was crying all over again. They didn’t leave her or pull away. Eventually, they slipped out of her and they helped her to stand on shaky legs. They were all going to be prunes at this rate, but they finished their shower, with James and Steve taking turns washing her and when they finally shut it off and wrapped in towels she wasn’t sure whether she was exhausted or just relaxed.

Maybe both.

Toweling her hair slowly, she probed at her skull. It was tender in places, but it felt solid.

“Nat?” Friday asked quietly, pulling her attention back to the present. Natalia glanced at her bracelet.

“Yes, Friday?”

“Mr. Parker and Ms. Maximoff are on their way back, they just contacted the Boss. He wants to know if you are up to joining them for dinner.”

Lifting her gaze, Natalia met James’ in the mirror. Whatever she wanted to do, she read it in his eyes.

Mary’s son.

But before she’d known that, he was still Peter. He was still the kid with no filter and not a single bone of deception in his body. He was headstrong and impetuous and he had a heart as big as a mountain.

And when the formless had taken him, she’d gotten him back.

“Natalia?” James said softly and she licked her lips.

“Yes, Friday, we’re coming for dinner. I want to see everyone. Is Clint still around, too?”

“He is and was planning to ‘hunt you down’ if he did not see you this evening.”

She smiled. “Tell him I’ll be there soon. Is Tony all right?”

“Boss is Boss.” Which said a lot. “He and Mr. Barton spent the afternoon playing video games and creating a list of new Accords.”

Natalia raised her brows. “New ones?”

“Yes, I believe they are a jest but the first one is if they want the Avengers to clean up their ‘shit jobs’ for them, the countries in question will have to take full responsibility for any fallout and also salute Captain Rogers whenever they see him.”

Natalia laughed. “Are all their new Accords similar?”

“Quite.” Friday sounded a little putout.

“Then make sure you save me a copy before they hide them or lock them down.”

“I will take care of it immediately, Nat. Resuming sleep mode.”

James traced his finger across her shoulders. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“I saved Peter,” she whispered, turning to look up at him and then Steve who’d leaned against the doorjamb. “In the warehouse, with the formless—I saved him.”

It had mattered to save him before. She had to and she’d saved Mary’s son.

“I know you did,” James said. “He knows you did, too. But you’re going to be even more stubborn about it now, aren’t you?” There was the barest hint of teasing.

“Maybe,” she said. “But I saved Mary’s son...”

Crouching, James frowned. “Don’t do that, Kotyonok, don’t hold yourself responsible for something you couldn’t have prevented. You did everything to make sure she grew up safe and happy and _ free _. The choices she made, the life she gained… they are a reflection of the freedom you made sure she had. You did that for her Natalia, we lost her—but she wasn’t lost.”

That helped.

Some.

“I still want to find out…”

“We will,” he finished for her.

“All of us,” Steve said. “We’ll find out if the people who did it were caught and if not, we’ll find them. I guarantee you, Tony and Clint are in on that hunt, too.”

She blew out a shaky breath and then traced her fingers against James’ cheek. “I’ll make it through this.”

“I know you will,” he said. “But whatever you need, Natalia, I mean it. If you need things to stop, you say it. If you need help, you say it or you just look at us. We’ll make it happen.”

“Lean on you.” It wasn’t a question.

“We’ve got you,” Steve said.

“Who do you lean on?” She glanced from one to the other.

“I lean on you,” James told her. “You give me a reason to keep getting up every day. I lean on Stevie. I’ve leaned on Clint for a lot of this, too. And believe it or not on Tony.” Surprise twisted his mouth.

“They’re our friends and our family,” Steve said quietly. “Your family. We’ve got this, trust us?”

That wasn’t hard. “Always.”

He smiled. “Let’s get you dressed,” he said. “But before you do.” He eased into the bathroom, he and James had already dressed, she was the only one still in a towel. Falling from Steve’s palm was a pair of dog tags on a chain. “Do you mind if I put these back where they belong?”

“I would love that.” She had her ring, her bracelets and as Steve slipped the chain over her neck, she had the dog tags back. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he murmured.

Taking a deeper breath, she rose with them and stripped off the towel. The sooner she was dressed, the sooner they could head back to their guest suite.

The only real questions she had was should she tell Peter and how did she tell him. 

~~~

The walk from where they had stayed back to where the group had been housed afforded her a semi-tour of the palace. A guard escorted them, but he didn’t press them for questions or hurry them along when her steps lagged. She held Steve’s hand with her left while her right intertwined with James’ left. They matched their pace to hers. Cloaky draped her shoulders, it had settled into place as they went to leave.

The whole way back she turned her decision over in her head. She could make arguments for both sides. But the single point she kept returning to was did she have the right to tilt Peter’s world? He was a good kid. Impetuous, yes. But also kind and generous.

And how did she tell him about leaving his mother? Or _ why _ she had to leave her? Did that mean she had to tell him about the Red Room? The thought left a bad taste in her mouth.

James squeezed her hand gently and she dragged herself back to the present. They’d left the elevator but she’d stopped walking.

“We can go back,” Steve said. “You don’t…”

“I do,” she argued, blowing out a breath. “I want to see him. I need to see all of them.” She needed to check on Tony, to check in with Clint, and to make sure Wanda and Peter were all right. They were, of course, they were, but she wanted to see them with her own eyes.

At the door, Steve gave her one last look to check and she nodded. Schooling her features, she tried to pack away some of the more turbulent emotions. Noise washed out as Steve opened the door.

“They have maglev trains,” Peter enthused. “They are so cool, and they race along at incredible speeds, slow and stop precisely. It’s not just in the mound, they’re part of the public transport system here which is so clean… you have not lived until you can smell how clean those cars are. No urine or trash, it’s amazing.”

Natalia’s lips curled at Peter’s eagerness.

“And Shuri—and her team of designers added sonic stabilizers so they can move the vibranium without it going boom. And did you know it could explode? That in its raw state it can gain so much kinetic energy it destabilizes and can be dangerous? That’s just… I can’t imagine it, But Vision’s body is made from vibranium, so would that apply to him? Or not because it’s not in its raw state anymore? I’ve caught Steve's shield, I know it’s not unstable.”

He stood in the center of the sitting room area. Clint leaned back in a chair two fingers to his head and his elbow resting on the arm of the chair as he gave Peter a bemused look. Tony stood opposite Peter on the other side of the sofa, his eyes a little glazed as Peter raced on at high-speed. Wanda sat on the sofa, arms folded as she watched Peter with an indulgent smile.

The whole set-up was adorable.

“Come to think of it, Bucky’s arm is vibranium-based, that’s got so many possibilities. But the trains, the way they move, Coop would go nuts. That’s just what we spent the first couple of hours doing.”

“Only the first couple of hours,” Wanda teased him. “The next four were spent in Shuri’s lab dissecting the designs as they argued over whether nano-technology threatened the rendering of actual design protocols. Particularly if nanos could be configured to build to specification without the need of a prototype.” Widening her eyes, Wanda then thumped her head back and mock-snored.

Natalia laughed.

The sound snagged all of them and Peter whirled. “Natasha! Hey, you look great. Tony said you weren’t feeling well this morning and needed to sleep, but you’re really bouncing back. You really need to get on your feet and then Wanda and me can show you around the city, we just got back. After Wanda made us leave the lab, Shuri took us all over Golden City—did you know it’s actually called that?”

He bounded over and she barely had time to let go of James’ hand before she got a fierce hug.

“I really am glad you’re doing better. Do you think you’d be up for a tour tomorrow? Shuri said we might be able to visit with the Dora Milaje, we can’t train with them but it would be cool to see where they train. Then there’s a chance we could take one of the flyers up and maybe take a good look at the countryside…”

It was like Tony on a sugar rush or too much caffeine, Peter seemed to be vibrating with the need to share.

“Steve, you and Bucky were here before. Did either of you see this stuff?”

“Pete,” Tony said. “Breathe.”

“No,” James said slowly. “We weren’t really doing the tourist thing, Pal.”

“Then you two definitely should go tomorrow, I mean it would be cool if we all did.” Then Peter focused on her. He’d pulled back and his grin was so wide-open and infectious. The absolutely artless charm in his manner and lack of even a hint of guard to his manner left him so vulnerable. “Do you think you’ll be up for it?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I would like to spend some time and see—but maybe not this trip. I owe them a great deal, but I also want to go home.” She really did. “But I’m glad you had fun.”

“Shuri’s pretty cool,” Peter admitted. “She’s smart, but you knew that cause she helped with you. Is that all better now?”

“Yes, malen’kiy pauk, it’s all better now.”

“Hey, Pete, why don’t we let Red and the guys come on in and sit down, yeah?” Tony circled the sofa and Natalia dragged her gaze off of Peter for a moment to study him. His hair was only a little disheveled as though he’d run his fingers through it multiple times and his eyes were a little red-rimmed. Had he not slept?

“Oh, right, sorry.” Peter cast a sheepish look at them. “Just got excited.”

“Clearly,” Steve said, more amused than annoyed. He clapped Peter on the shoulder and steered him away a little.

Clint sat forward, his gaze searching even if he tried to keep his posture relaxed. She gave him the hand sign for she was all right. He touched the tip of his nose. He wanted to talk to her when she was ready. Natalia answered with a scratch just behind her right ear. She wasn’t ready to talk yet, but she could listen.

With a nod, he stood. “Actually, they already delivered food and it smells great. So I say we eat and give Mr. Parker something to do besides talk at sixty miles per hour.”

“Hey, I don’t talk that fast,” Peter protested.

“No,” Wanda said with a teasing grin. “You definitely talk faster.”

He made a face at her and she laughed.

Natalia bit back another smile then met Tony’s gaze. After giving James’ arm a gentle brush, she gave Tony a hug. She could almost feel the tension go out of him as she wound her arms around him. With a fierce grip of his own, he held her tight and then sighed.

“I’m all right,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” he answered in a similarly low voice as Steve and Clint corralled the kids toward the kitchen where the food apparently waited.

“Yes. Thank you,” she added. “For helping and for telling James—for being there.” Then she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for everything.”

He loosened his hold slowly, then gave her a long steady look. “If you need anything…”

“I’ll just mention it to Friday so you can sneak it in,” she told him and the corners of his mouth curled.

“Who said anything about sneaking?” He raised his brows and gave her hair a little tug. Then glanced at James who extended his hand. A faint frown creased his brow, but he didn’t hesitate to let go of Natalia to shake James’ hand.

“I’ll just say what she said,” James said quietly. “But I’m not kissing you.”

There was a moment where Tony opened his mouth and Natalia bumped his shoulder and gave him a warning look. He chuckled. “C’mon, Red. That would be funny.”

“Not right now,” she admonished him and at his smirk, she rolled her eyes. “And not later, either.”

James snorted. “It’s fine, Doll. I don’t mind if he hits on me. I’m taken though.” He patted Tony on the shoulder before he headed toward the kitchen. “Don’t take too long to get food,” he warned them both then left them.

“You know, every time I think I have him pinned down…” Tony said motioning toward James. “He does something so not 40s like it completely throws me.”

“He likes you,” she told him.

Scratching at his jaw, Tony gave her a wry smile. “I kind of like him, too. But let’s keep that on the down-low. We’re better at the snarking.”

“You all right?”

“Always,” he said easily. “And you’re going to let that little lie sit the same way I am yours.” Then he offered his arm and she threaded hers through his and let him lead her toward the kitchen. She found Peter almost immediately and he was talking to Wanda at high speed and she was laughing and then gave him a little shove. The connection between them had definitely deepened.

Steve held out a plate to her and she glanced at the food offerings. She had a little more appetite than she’d possessed earlier in the day. After choosing one of the wraps, she added some vegetables to her plate and then what looked like a small cheesecake. They all sort of streamed back toward the sitting room. Peter and Wanda grabbed the love seat and Clint claimed a chair. Cloaky slipped off of her shoulders as Natalia settled onto the sofa. She chose the middle and wasn’t surprised when James and Steve sat on either side of her while Tony claimed the last chair.

Conversation waned as they all ate. Natalia’s appetite hadn’t really returned, but she took a bite of the wrap—it was chicken with some kind of dressing that was more sweet than sour but it definitely had a tang to it. Citrus, probably. Even as she analyzed it, she tracked Peter’s mood, Wanda’s, and met Clint’s questioning gaze and Tony’s understanding one.

They all wanted to know if she was going to tell him. She wanted to know that, too. James pressed his leg against hers, a reminder she wasn’t alone.

“What day is it?” she asked rather abruptly.

“Tuesday,” Peter answered. “I think.”

“It’s Wednesday,” Clint said. “And yes, school is back in, but Peter got an extension courtesy of Tony.”

Peter flashed her a grin. “I didn’t want to leave until I knew you were all right.”

“May is all right with that?”

“She is,” he said. “I’ve talked to her every day, I promise. Tony still has to talk to her about the—”

“The extension,” Tony stated stepping right over the line. “Not something Red needs to worry about, Pete.”

With a wince, he glanced at his food. “Right, I almost forgot. But you still need to talk to her and I know she’s going to yell at you.”

“I can talk to her then,” Natalia offered.

“Nope, Red, you took it in the chin from her last time. I’ll let her smack me around,” Tony said easily then took a drink of his water. “No pain, no gain, right?”

Clint’s expression never shifted, Steve and James went a little stiff but relaxed almost immediately. Wanda, on the other hand, looked so hard at her food, it made Natalia question Peter’s earlier grimace.

It could certainly have been about May, then again…

Steve nudged her gently and she glanced at him. His plate was empty and he nodded toward hers. She offered it to him and he gave her an impatient look.

“I’m not really hungry,” she said. “I ate that stew a few hours ago and look, I even had a quarter of the wrap.”

“Stomach could have shrunk,” Tony suggested. “Red was in cryo for several days, she wasn’t eating or receiving anything in the form of fluids. As I recall Bucky wasn’t eating in huge quantities when he first got out either.”

No, James hadn’t.

Some of the concern creasing Steve’s expression eased and he took the plate. Natalia mouthed _ thank you _ to Tony and he grinned.

“Are you really going to go back tomorrow?” Peter asked suddenly. “Don’t you need a few more days to rest and—you know—stuff?”

“I need to see Shuri and the other physicians, presumably Stephen as well. But yes, I want to go home for a while.” She needed to sort some things out. “I rather doubt anyone is going to let me run missions, but I can still do research.” Or just go away, but she didn’t want to bring that up here.

“We’ll see on the last,” Tony told her even as Steve said, “One thing at a time, Angel.”

Wanda tried to cover a smile, but she only said, “I don’t think anyone is going to hurry you, Natasha. We just want to make sure you are fully recovered. And if that means you take time and get away from the nonsense with the Accords and the press, even better.”

Nonsense with the press? “Are they having issues with Bruce showing up in Los Angeles?”

That hadn’t actually occurred to her until now.

“It’s handled,” Clint said easily, resting his right ankle on his left knee. “I even took a call with the Committee today.” His shit-eating grin promised all kinds of fun.

“And whose brilliant idea was it to let you negotiate?”

“Mine,” he said. “You and Tony are both beat and they needed a little reality check. T’Challa was there, it’s fine. The Other Guy isn’t going to be a problem.”

A part of her wanted to ask how and why, but that would mean digging into the Bruce situation and she wasn’t sure she wanted a part of that. Even as she shied away from the thought another part of her wanted to know when she’d become a coward.

“Is it really handled? Or just covered up so we don’t have to address it right now?”

“It’s handled, Red,” Tony said. “Particularly because Ross is in custody.”

Steve sighed. “And we were going to keep the business talk to a minimum.”

“True,” Clint agreed. “But Nat needs to know that Ross was delivered to the U.N., he is currently in holding at an NYPD station under guard while various State Department representatives and diplomats sort out his status. He’s trying to claim diplomatic immunity, which won’t fly. Ellis stripped him of that when he was fired.”

But he could still reinstate it. Having a former three-star general and Secretary of State tried in another country wouldn’t look good for the U.S., blocking it would also be bad for foreign relations. “But he’s in an NYPD jail?”

“Technically, security inside the U.N. comes under the province of U.N. security, he was left tied up _ outside, _ ” Tony said. “Thus, NYPD. It’s a bit of a cluster, but it’s not _ our _ cluster at the moment and I would rather we all kept our distance. At least until they make a decision, Stark Industries is quietly leaning in certain directions. One thing to be said for corporate influences.”

The conversation shifted away from Ross to Clint’s kids and they were back at school. He mentioned that when they went back, he was taking a few days to go to Iowa. “And I’d appreciate a distinct lack of emergencies if we can pull that off.”

Wanda admitted she’d enrolled in college and that earned more exclamations and Tony asked what she planned to study, while Clint beamed like a proud father. Even Peter looked pleased, and as much as Natalia wanted to rev up some excitement for her, it remained at a distance.

“I haven’t picked out anything beyond general education classes, yet,” Wanda admitted then slanted a look at Natalia. “I was kind of saving what I specialize in until maybe we could talk.”

Summoning a smile, Natalia said, “General education credits can take a couple of semesters to meet and it’s a good way to get a feel for the school. Do you know how you study?”

“How I…?”

“We’ll talk, just remember it’s always an adjustment when you get started.”

“Okay, I’d like that.”

Peter asked which school she’d be going to and Natalia could almost read him adding up the potential scheduling conflicts between his schooling and Wanda’s.

Her gut tightened and she glanced down at the ring on her right hand. 

Whatever she wanted to do…

Whatever she wanted…

Natalia studied him again and he caught her gaze and grinned. “You know, we can still work on tracking the Vulture, he’s been quiet but it can be a side project while you’re taking downtime.”

The Vulture had tried to kill Peter.

Yes, she could track him.

Peter had his own threats. Being Spider-Man would earn him more enemies. He didn’t need to have hers, but he couldn’t be fully safe from them if he didn’t know they could come for him.

Not telling him wouldn’t keep him safe. It would just keep him ignorant.

“We can do that,” she said quietly. “But before we do any of that, there’s something we need to talk about.”

James slid his hand over hers as silence filled the room.

“It starts with a story…”

~~~

“Every story starts somewhere,” she began. “I have never been a fan of _skazka—_fairy tales, fables. So many of them begin once upon a time, they talk of tragedy turning into triumph or how evil can be overcome in one act—it’s too simple. Too unbelievable.”

Peter and Wanda both stared at her raptly.

“I am explaining this so you can understand when I say my story isn’t a fairy tale—even if some really good things happened in it.” She chose each word carefully. The thinnest veneer of ice covered the depthless pool inside of her. “Wanda knows a little of it, but I really haven’t talked to you Peter about where I grew up and I’m not going to tell you too much more now other than to say…I never knew my parents or if I had them. From a very young age, I grew up in a place where survival was everything. It was a cruel and heartless world, attachments were severely discouraged and we trained at all hours of the day. Even in sleep, you had to be on your guard against a knife in the back.”

Peter tensed and Natalia kept her focus on him even as James squeezed her hand and Steve rested his hand gently on her leg.

“You asked me once why I didn’t become a baker and did I choose to become the Black Widow.”

“You said you did,” he responded carefully, a frown tightening his brows.

“I did,” she told him. “Because it was the only choice that let me survive. And I graduated from the program when I was 18—that was 1948.” She flicked a look to Wanda whose eyes widened. “Yes,” she told her. “I’m much older than I look.”

“Wow,” she whispered, but didn’t add to it.

“Graduation can mean a lot of things, but the two parts you need to know specifically is that was the year I met James and the year they sterilized me.”

“Wait—they what?” Peter frowned, horror and outrage in his eyes. Wanda only looked sad and she put a hand over Peter’s arm.

“It was believed that children would be a distraction from the mission and so they removed my ability to have them so I would never be distracted. I was eighteen, this was the only life I’d ever known—I accepted it.” She shrugged. Though that wasn’t entirely true, the story was bad enough that he didn’t need to know she’d tried to fail her graduation. “During this time, James was Soldat, he suffered a great deal of mind alteration. But he was always kind to me…”

He snorted.

Grinning, she glanced at him. “Yes, even when you were kicking my ass—you were teaching me and you protected me when you could.”

Lifting her hand, he pressed a kiss to it. “And I always will.”

“Well, protect me maybe. Kick my ass? I’m much meaner now.”

That earned a chuckle from nearly everyone, including Clint, who gave her an encouraging nod.

“We were close,” she told Peter. “On and off for many years, we maintained a relationship and always in secret. We could not let anyone know we cared, we were not allowed to be attached. But it also allowed us to protect each other. Then one year, the unthinkable happened—I got pregnant.”

Shock appeared in Wanda’s eyes but Peter clasped his hands together so tightly his knuckles went white. Natalia watched his breathing, it wasn’t shallow, but she had to pay attention to it.

“It was impossible, or so I always thought…”

“But you have a serum,” Wanda said, then winced. “Sorry, I just—you can heal.”

“I can and a few months ago, Helen surmised that I likely could have healed if I’d not always been injured. My tasks and missions often led to injuries, but this time, I’d been on a long-term assignment and apparently I’d healed.”

Peter licked his lips. “So you got pregnant…”

She nodded, her gaze distant. She could see Morozov’s office, his excited face as he told her she would not be going on any more assignments. “When I found out, I had to act. If anyone learned—anyone—my child would have the life I had had. While I was resigned to it, I could not do that to our child. I found James and told him we had to go, I explained why and he committed immediately.”

Without question. He stroked his thumb against the side of her hand.

“We went on our next assignment, but I had already been planning. We had a window at the end between its completion and when we were due back. We took that time and we fled. Eventually, we made it to the States and we went to Montana where we purchased land and a remote place with funds that I had secreted away over the years.”

As she blew out a breath, Peter asked, “Were you saving to run away for a long time?”

“It never occurred to me to leave,” she admitted. “Like I said, it was my life. I didn’t know anything else. But I was a hoarder.”

Clint snorted and she caught his grin.

“I have stashes in many parts of the world, funds that I would hide away. Safehouses. Supplies. It is how I survived for so long even with them. And definitely how I survived when I got out.”

She still hoarded, even now. But that could be something for another day.

“We settled in and lived there, it was quiet and it was simple. I loved the home we built and after a few months our daughter was born.”

Wanda’s eyes went wet and Natalia gave her a stern look, but Wanda shook her head. She wasn’t reading her mind, she promised.

“She was perfect,” Natalia said. “We named her after two queens and for a few months, we had a good life. She learned to walk, she was beginning to talk. She was very smart. But one day—James arrived back from a trip for supplies—breathless and fierce. A recovery team had come for us.” Heart clenching at the memory, she dug her nails into James’ hand and he didn’t flinch. “We had planned for this, even isolated living this quiet life, we hadn’t forgotten our training. We had go-bags ready and James knew he’d been spotted but they hadn’t seen me and they couldn’t see her.”

Glancing at James, she found him watching her. He nodded slowly.

“It was the most important thing. More important than either of us,” she had to clear her throat to keep talking. “So, I carried our daughter and a go-bag and headed out over the mountains while James went to intercept and take them out. If he was successful, he would catch us up. I left signs along the way that he could track.”

Surprise flickered in his eyes.

“I had hoped that he would find us, but I knew I couldn’t stop.”

Pulling her gaze away, she blew out another breath.

“He didn’t come and I made my way to Canada. From there, we traveled east. James had begun to remember during our long sojourn. He’d told me about his life before the war, about his best friend and about Brooklyn, and he’d had an aversion to New York, conditioned I thought. So I went there to find his other friends—Howard Stark and Peggy Carter.”

It was Tony’s turn to blow out a breath and Peter wasn’t the only one with white knuckles.

“After a long journey, I found a place in Brooklyn, I contacted Stark and I made new allies. I had a plan. I would rescue James, it was what I’d told myself all the way there and it was what I wanted to do more than anything except protect our daughter. They had James, which meant either they had killed him—and I would need to avenge him.” Which she did anyway. The deaths of those techs were some of the very few she’d ever enjoyed inflicting. The scientists and researchers in that program had deserved to die.

“Or if they hadn’t, they would seek to recondition him and eventually they would send the Winter Soldier to retrieve the Widow. So I had to make sure our daughter was safe. I’m not going to go into all the details, but I found a home for her with a good man who would raise her and I married him. I cared about him and I liked him very much. He loved my daughter.” He’d loved her, but Natalia couldn’t say that aloud. Anguish crept up through the cracks and she had to close her eyes.

No one moved or spoke.

Finally, she opened them and focused on Peter. The intensity in his dark eyes locked on her. “Shortly after her second birthday…” The next day. “I left them and I made them think I died by staging my death. I had to make sure no one could link me to her or to him. It was how I would protect her. Her name was different, mine was not mine. With me gone, she would not be the daughter of the Widow. Then I set out to let James find me, but I left breadcrumbs around the world as far from her as I could get.”

“And he captured you?” Peter asked, glancing from her to James and back.

James nodded. “She took out the whole team with me, but not me. And I had orders, the programming was too deep. I brought her back.”

“And I behaved in a way that forced them to wipe me.”

“The chair.” Peter leaned back folding his arms like he was hugging himself and she weighed whether to get up or to wait. “The one in that video.”

Natalia nodded her head. “I did it because if they wiped me severely—I would forget my daughter and she would be truly safe because we wouldn’t know her or anything about her. I was—too successful. For forty-two years, I lived in ignorance.”

“How did you remember?” Wanda asked.

“I didn’t,” Natalia admitted. “James did.” Steve squeezed her leg and Clint sat forward, worry in his eyes.

Tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them back, “It was why I had planned to come to Wakanda anyway—because the secret of who she was and where I left her was locked inside of me. The injury just sped up the process a little.”

“And now you remember?” Wanda looked so worried for her, Natalia smiled.

“I do…”

“My mom,” Peter said quietly and Natalia snapped her gaze to him. “My mom was your daughter.”

Everyone went rigid.

“Peter…”

“I’ve been helping Tony,” Peter admitted. “He was trying to bind your serums, he tried everything, stem cells, white blood cells, red—breaking it down to DNA components.”

Her heart thudded like a vicious bruise against her chest.

“We couldn’t get it to work so one night I tried with mine. I’d told Tony about what happened at Oscorp—I’d seen the samples you brought back. I know it was your blood they used on that spider and that maybe—maybe since it made me I could help you.”

“Malen’kiy pauk.”

He gave her a small smile. “It wasn’t hard to see it all… girls don’t get much of the genetic markers from their fathers, the XX chromosome and all that, but there were heritable traits and my blood reacted to yours. It didn’t work the way Tony wanted it to, but—when I did a comparison, there were too many traits in common. You’re Natalie—you’re Grandpa Will’s wife. Or you were. You’re Mom’s mom.”

It hurt so bad and she had to suck in the pain and hold it there to nod slowly. “I’m sorry…”

His sudden smile was so bright it startled her. “I’m not,” he said and then he swiped at his own tears. “I thought I was crazy, and then when I was going to have to leave before you woke up—I didn’t want to. I had to be here, I just didn’t know when I would get a chance to ask and…” Then his expression fell. “Mom died.”

She nodded slowly.

“I’m really sorry, Natasha,” he whispered.

“Me too.”

“But you have me.” His voice was so hopeful and so uncertain; she was on her feet and met him halfway. His arms wrapped around her and she squeezed him. “You have me and you have Bucky and all of us,” Peter whispered and she was rapidly losing her fight against the tears.

“I have you,” she promised him. 

“Bucky…” he said slowly and Natalia eased back. Peter glanced from her to James and she smiled.

“It’s all good, Pal,” James said. “We’re all getting used to this.”

Then Peter gave James a hug and James looked startled for a moment before he returned his grip.

“Natalia’s right, Peter, we have you and we’ll take care of her, too.”

Her chest hurt and there was a sniff and she canted her head, just narrowly catching Tony swiping at his eyes and Clint twisting away. “Dropped something,” he muttered in a thick voice. Wanda didn’t pretend to not be crying.

James and Peter were talking in quiet voices and Natalia’s snagged on Steve’s gaze, he gave her a warm smile then lifted his chin toward James and Peter and Peter’s animated smile and hand gestures.

Sinking down slowly, she perched on the table and just watched them. It was taking everything she had not to start sobbing again. Peter already figured it out.

And he’d managed to hide it.

She was so proud of him.

The ache for Mary was never going away. Peter shot a grin at her and she summoned a smile.

It was the best and worst of days.

The very best and the very worst.

Just like all the fairy tales she’d never liked. 


	76. Sem'ya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalia continues to heal and to grieve, but Peter has a special request and Bruce wants a word before our heroes return home.

**Chapter Seventy-Six**

_ Sem’ya _

**Natalia/Natasha**

“I wish I had more stories to tell you,” Peter said as they walked outside. The sun was warm on her face, but she’d slid on one of Steve’s baseball caps and sunglasses. “She died when I was young. I remember her telling me stories and singing songs. She used to tease Dad, she could always make him laugh. But… who they were as people? Most of what I know is what May and Ben told me. They traveled a lot for Dad’s work. Like I said, he was an engineer. When they traveled, I stayed with Uncle Ben and Aunt May.”

Arm looped through Peter’s, Natalia listened as he spoke. They’d spent a lot of time together over the last couple of days. The doctors, including Stephen, had wanted her to take more time before they returned to New York and she’d gone for her last scan with Shuri late the day before.

The tentative all-clear included an admonishment from Stephen to avoid anything resembling a head injury for the next four to six weeks, preferably longer. Peter even used it as an excuse to celebrate. One thing she’d realized in talking to Peter and listening to him and James—Peter had no idea his parents worked for the CIA. He said his grandfather used to be an analyst, but he didn’t know about his deeper ties to the intelligence community either.

It was something she wrestled with in the dark hours of the night. The tears hadn’t stopped yet, they’d creep up on her and ambush when she least expected it. James seemed to be doing only a little better. His silences would come and his gaze would be far away. More often than not, they just reached for each other and Steve kept watch over both of them, their private guardian.

She’d finally gotten Tony to sleep, head in her lap for a few hours when she’d woken late into the night and unable to go back to sleep herself. The shadows under all of their eyes weren’t going away anytime soon. Wanda and Peter’s closeness was another bright moment in the bleakness. Having walked in on them twice now kissing, Natalia was amused by their stammered explanations and hot cheeks. Even more, when she verified they understood the concepts of safe sex.

Not that they were anywhere near that potential step according to them, but it never hurt to be certain for both of their sakes. Wanda had been a great support to Peter and Peter seemed to be very good at making Wanda smile. The fact Peter hadn’t mentioned Liz from school was a conversation they could have on another day.

“Natasha?” Peter said and she dragged her focus to the present. Sometime in the last day or so, their escorts had become even more discreet and while Natalia had glimpsed the Dora Milaje, she hadn’t actually spoken to any of them and Nakia was out of the country at the moment. Shopping trip, T’Challa explained. She promised to pick up something for Natalia while she was gone and it had made her smile.

Next time, she’d told T’Challa, let Nakia know that next time she wouldn’t miss the trip. The comment earned her a few suspicious looks from the guys but she didn’t explain it. Nakia would understand and that was all that mattered.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking. I wish I had more stories to tell you, but she was still so little when I left. I know she was clever…”

“She spoke five languages,” Peter said. “I always kind of wished I’d gotten her ear for them.”

Natalia smiled. “How do you know you don’t?”

“Um…because I can parse code and I can read biochemical markers, but French is a bear and I’m better at Spanish, but don’t ask me to hold a conversation.”

“Language isn’t memorizing formulas, it’s immersion, it’s survival.”

“I’ve been trying to learn Russian,” he admitted. “And that’s worse than French and Spanish combined.”

Natalia laughed. “It is not as bad as all that, though admittedly I have heard the language described as bloody and tragic, like our history and our literature.”

It was Peter’s turn to chuckle as they followed a path alongside a trickling water source they couldn’t quite see amongst the lush foliage. Wakanda truly was beautiful. She hadn’t ventured into the city proper yet, though she had enjoyed all of Peter’s descriptions.

“I’m not sure whether that’s an endorsement or not,” Peter admitted. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

“They’re all weird questions until you ask them,” Natalia said. “But you can ask me anything, I told you that once.”

“You also said you might not answer everything.”

“I maintain that I might not. There are some questions I won’t answer. Some I may not know the answer to, but I will never fault you for asking me.”

“What do I call you? You and Bucky? I mean—no offense, but Grandma isn’t going to work. You do not look like anybody’s grandmother.”

Natalia chuckled. “James said the same thing.” The laughter dislodged some of the ache. She’d taken to using ice packs on her eyes most evenings, it had helped some. That and her serum, she supposed. “Though in Russian it would be Babushka.”

Peter grimaced. “That sounds like a little old lady with a headscarf.”

“It is a little old lady with a headscarf,” she teased him and gave him a poke. “You can call me Natasha—it’s the diminutive of Natalia and affectionate. Or you can call me Nat. You don’t have to give me a title, malen’kiy pauk.”

“What’s grandfather?”

“Dedushka.”

He made a face. “Yeah, he doesn’t look like that either. Uncle Bucky sounds weird.”

Natalia threw her head back and laughed. “From my point of view,  _ Bucky _ sounds weird all by itself.”

“It’s not so bad. I remember when Uncle Ben called me Petey, I liked it when I was little but not so much now.”

“Nicknames are affections we give to people we care about,” she said, ruffling his hair and he ducked away, laughing. “Like little spider. James used to call me that—when I was much younger.”

“He really loves you.” Peter shifted to walk backwards so he could face her. “It’s both kind of gross and soppy and neat all at the same time.”

“I love him.” It was that simple.

“Do you think…” Peter started then stopped and made a face.

“Do I think?” she prompted. They’d reached a curve in the path. It moved out toward the lake, or so they’d told her earlier. Steve mentioned he used to jog this trail when he’d stayed here before—those few weeks between Siberia and when he showed up in Austria with Clint and Tony.

He paused. “Do you think if you hadn’t had to give her up—that my mom would have still met my dad?”

The question was a powerful one and she turned it over in her mind, considering the angles. “I’m not someone who can predict the future…”

“But you can predict patterns,” Peter said. “You read them better than anyone, even Tony says that. You understand behavior and you can read people.”

“Maybe, but how much of who we are is nature and how much is nurture? There are many arguments to be made and I have made them. I am—I am who I am. But that can’t be only because of how I was raised.”

Or she would be a soulless monster… and for all that she had been a monster, she’d never been soulless.

“I don’t know if there is a grand design or a god. Having met Thor, I could argue there are Norse gods, but they aren’t what we ever imagined. Loki is even worse.” She made a face on the last. “So I don’t know if there is a destiny or a fate. I know that James and I found each other over and over again, despite everything that was done. I know that we made a daughter together despite how impossible it should have been.” And because of more things that had been done  _ to _ them. “I know that we made a choice to flee with her to make sure she did not have to face the life we did. When I left her, it was for the same reason.”

The ache unfurled, wide and gaping.

Turning her gaze toward the distance, she concentrated on keeping the emotion from sweeping her legs out again.

“But we were raising her away from everyone. We lived in almost total seclusion. I hadn’t seen anyone who wasn’t James or Mary in over two years. What I didn’t consider then—in the interests of safety, we sacrificed so much. The first time I saw her in a park or with other children, I realized what she had been denied.” Not that Natalia had much experience with children playing at that age then, not like she did now. “So, I would have to say, maybe not.” Though if she met Richard at the CIA, maybe she would have. Natalia couldn’t pretend that she or James would have encouraged Mary to go in that direction.

She met Peter’s gaze and could almost hear the words he fought to hold back.

“And we wouldn’t have you, so in leaving her, we gained you.”

“I wish it had been both of us though,” he admitted. “Not that May isn’t—oh crap. We have to tell May.”

“We will, eventually,” Natalia said. “While I know I encouraged you to tell her the truth about Spider-Man, this is different. This is an entirely different kind of secret.”

“Because of the age thing…”

“And because I have enemies, Peter. Some of them, quite vicious.”

“So does Tony,” he argued. “And Steve. The Avengers have enemies.”

“Yes, and they are all dangerous. But I still think it would be safer, for now, that we keep this to ourselves.”

He frowned, folding his arms as they followed the curve of the path and the dense foliage widened to give them the view of the lake. They also stepped into a breeze.

“I get it... but I want to shout it from the rooftops. May is amazing and I wouldn’t be where I am without her, but it’s just been her and me for a long time and now I have you and Bucky and…”

“You had us before, malen’kiy pauk,” she reminded him. “You have Tony and Clint, his family, Steve…” Tipping her head, she gave him a teasing smile. “Wanda.”

His ears went red.

“We’re sem’ya. That hasn’t changed.”

“Sem’ya?”

“Family.”

“Family,” Peter repeated. “Sem’ya.”

“Da, Petya. My sem'ya. My vsegda budem vashey sem'yey.”

He gave her a narrow-eyed look. “We’re family, and I think something else about family.”

“We will always be your family.”

“Petya?”

“It’s a diminutive of Pyotr…your mother was Mary Elizabeth Yakovlevna Romanova Barnes.”

His eyes widened at that. “That’s a big name.”

“We named her for two powerful queens. I thought it appropriate. James used to call her Tsarvena. It means princess.”

“I guessed that… but why Yakovlevna?”

“It roughly translates to the daughter of James. Patronymics are part of the custom, we have surnames but patronymics honor the father.”

“Yours is—Alianovna?”

She nodded.

“So your father’s name was Alian?”

She lifted her should. “That seems to be the case, but I never knew them.”

“And Romanova?”

“That is the surname I was given, I changed it to Romanoff when I went to SHIELD.”

“Natasha instead of Natalia?”

The breeze carried the scent of the water and the flowers. “For a long time, to me, Natalia died in 1984 It was the last time James and I were separated. The wipe was—very effective. But something in me broke, an old command from one of the people who raised me.” She sighed. “When I left, I wandered for a while. I suppose I was lost in a way. I lost who I was, a big piece of me was missing and I was no one and had no place. Eventually, I went to SHIELD and I decided to let Natalia stay dead and I became Natasha.”

“But Bucky calls you Natalia.”

She nodded. “I am Natalia, I am me again—all of me. It’s hard to explain, I’m not entirely certain I understand it all. But yes, Petya is a diminutive, an affectionate name. Different from malen’kiy pauk.”

“See, you have all these names for me and… I kind of want to use just one for you.”

They’d almost reached the lake and the path gave way to the softest grass, which descended toward what looked like white sand. “You can call me whatever you like.”

“Then it would be okay if I just called you Mom?”

Only decades of training kept her from stumbling. Everything in her stilled and she paused, head turned to stare at him.

He wore a small, hopeful smile. “You—you’ve always reminded me of her. Even when we first met that day in the training room. Well, met for the second time. When you met me, Peter, not me Spider-Man.” He kind of tripped over his own words, but she’d understood what he meant. “I—there was this instant connection. I wanted to know you better, I wanted to work with you. You grounded me and you busted me in that alley and I was so damn…I mean…well, I was embarrassed. Then and then you worked with me. You were great and we talked about everything. You’re so easy to talk to. You saved me.”

His breaths came in sharp little bursts and she turned, flattening her palm to his chest and catching his hand and putting it over her heart. “Breathe, Peter. In and out. Counts of four.”

The race of his heart under her palm began to calm and his breathing deepened. “I don’t know why I keep doing that,” he complained, embarrassment coloring his face.

“Overstimulation,” she said gently. “You have heightened senses and when you begin to overload, your body presents physical symptoms. You have to learn to compensate, to calm yourself and find your center. You calm much quicker now than in the beginning.”

“Still kind of sucks,” he grumbled and she gave his hand a squeeze.

“It’s all right. You are calming quicker. From everything I’ve heard, you’ve been invaluable when they needed your help and from everything I’ve seen, I’m consistently impressed by your ability to adapt and learn.”

A real smile lit him up. “Thank you.”

Still, she couldn’t shake the fact he’d asked…

“So it’s okay then? If I call you Mom?”

The lump in her throat made it hard to talk, but she nodded slowly. “If you want, I…”

“I do,” he admitted. “I told you that you reminded me of her and it makes even more sense—she was your daughter, but you’re missing her and so do I and I can’t call you grandma or babushka, I just can’t. So, how about an adopted son?”

Canting her head, she smiled at him. “You do realize I’m still going to train you, right?”

“Well, then I better rack up some Mom likes me best points.”

Mom likes me…

She squeezed her eyes shut because of the damn tears.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, then she had an arm full of Peter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It’s all right,” she said, trying to soothe him. He was tall enough she had her cheek pressed to his chest. “It really is. No one’s ever called me Mom before. And I’m a bit of a mess where all of this is concerned.”

“Cause it’s new and fresh,” he said, understanding in his voice. “I was like that when I was little. I’d wake up wanting my mom and Aunt May would come in and I would just cry because she wasn’t Mom.”

He gave a little shrug against her.

“I don’t know when I stopped and when it became okay to just be Aunt May. I still miss her, you know, but it seems so long ago now and I don’t always remember quite what she looked like but I remember the little songs she sang. It’s weird, the things that I do remember.”

“Emotion,” she surmised. “We cling to those things that we associate with our attachment.” It was how she and James held onto each other all those years. “I remember she was a happy baby, she laughed a lot, but she could be demanding. She adored James, she would do anything for him even when she would be tempted to push it with me.”

Peter chuckled. “Aunt May said I could charm the skin off a snake when I was a kid, all I had to do was look at them and that I was always so innocent appearing even if I was the one who made the mess.” He sounded so sheepish, Natalia had to smile.

Leaning away, she glanced up at him and then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “That won’t work on me,” she whispered.

He burst out laughing all over again and raised his hands as he backed up a couple of steps. “This, I actually do know. It kind of works on Tony.”

Hmm. He wasn’t wrong.

“It probably won’t work on James.”

“Should we make a bet to see?” The relish of challenge in his voice amused her and helped to chase back the cloying sadness. “It could be fun.”

“Depends—what do you want to win if you can make it work on him?”

Head tilted back, he said, “Maybe you visit the school as my guest Avenger?”

She snorted. “That’s adorable. Next.”

“C’mon, it would be cool. You’re more popular than you know.”

“I’ll take it under advisement, but I suggest you have a backup ante that you want to win.”

He huffed out a sigh. “All right, I’ll work on it. What do you win if I can’t get him to do it?”

“You pick a language and actually try to learn it.”

“Ugh,” he said.

“That’s my deal.”

“At least mine isn’t torture,” he countered.

“Depends on your point of view.”

Then he grinned and stuck out his hand. “Deal, Mom?”

Her heart squeezed at the title. “Deal.” She clasped his hand just as a rustle of grass reached her.

“Mom?” A dozen questions echoed in Bruce’s voice and she glanced over her shoulder to find him staring at the two of them. 

Pivoting, she said, “Hey, Bruce.”

“Nat,” he answered, looking as rumpled and befuddled as ever. Despite his brilliance, Bruce had never been comfortable in social situations. It had taken him a long time to relax around her. He glanced at Peter. “It was Parker, right?”

“Yes, Dr. Banner, Peter Parker.” Peter moved to stand next to her.

With a slow nod, Bruce tracked his gaze back to her. “You’re better?”

“So far,” she said. “I’ve seen some of the footage from Los Angeles. You pulled me out of the water.”

“The Other Guy did,” Bruce admitted. “I just—helped stabilize you before Dr. Strange got there and then came along with everyone here.” He twisted his hands together before rubbing his palms against his slacks and finally. “They said you were in cryo. The skull fracture and swelling.”

“You heard the same things I did, but as you can see… all better. Thank you for the help.” Even for Bruce, he seemed—more awkward than she recalled and nervous. He shot another look at Peter then back at her.

“I know I’ve been gone a while—but you think we could talk?”

Without Peter, he was asking and she glanced at Peter who wore a frown. “I don’t mind if you talk, I can keep a secret.”

She smiled because yes, he could definitely keep a secret. “It’s all right, Peter. Bruce and I have known each other for a while.”

“But…I think it would be better if you know, someone was here,” Peter argued and she raised her brows. He opened his mouth, then closed it before he looked back at Bruce. “Tony and the others don’t trust Dr. Banner. Bucky really doesn’t like him.”

“The feeling is mutual on that front,” Bruce admitted. “But I have no intentions of hurting Nat. I just want to talk to…” He hesitated for a split second then continued, “… to your mom.”

The last word came out with a punch of irritation. Well, considering some of their last conversations, it only seemed fair that Bruce had questions.

“Peter,” she said. “Head on back toward the garden, I’ll catch up in a bit.”

He frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me play the young man card, I think I’ve earned a little faith.”

Reddening, Peter shot another look at Bruce and Natalia frowned. Just how much had gone down between Bruce and the others. Peter typically followed Tony’s lead and Tony and Bruce used to be friends.

That James didn’t care for him, she could understand but she hadn’t thought there was anything bad between Bruce and Steve.

“Actually,” Peter said, shifting his weight. “I might head up that hill over there.” He pointed beyond them where the path wound up from the lake and disappeared over the hill. “Take a look and see what I see.”

And be in range to keep an eye on her. He wasn’t being subtle. “If you want,” she murmured. “Don’t dawdle.” Translation, don’t try to go slow to listen. She understood how his senses worked.

Bruce observed the whole interaction with a vague frown and perplexed look.

“Alright.” The barest hint of complaint crept into his voice and he looked at Bruce. “Dr. Banner. Remember, she’s recovering. We’re trying to keep the load light.”

For a moment, Natalia was torn between sighing and laughing. He managed to sound like Clint, Tony, Steve,  _ and _ James. “Go, Petya.” She flicked her fingers at him. Making a face at her, he turned and jogged along the path toward the hill.

“You’re good with him,” Bruce said quietly.

Facing him, she offered a small smile and nodded toward the lake. “Thank you.” As she walked, Bruce joined her. It would irk Peter because she angled away from the hill he’d gone to “check out” while she talked to Bruce. “He’s a good kid.”

“Mom?”

“Not going to let that go are you?” She kept her voice light as they walked. The hat kept most of the sun out of her eyes and the breeze kept her from baking, but she was glad she’d worn leggings for the walk rather than shorts as they moved through the taller grass.

“Just—you told me you couldn’t have kids.”

“I couldn’t,” she admitted. “Peter’s not actually my child.” It wasn’t a lie.

“He’s not?” Skepticism rifled the words. “Why does he smell like you?”

“We spend a lot of time together,” she said, glancing at him. “Where have you been? It’s been a while since we talked.”

“Since you said you adored me, kissed me, and shoved me off a cliff?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I suppose I owe you an apology.”

“For which part?” The irritation underscoring the words wasn’t manufactured.

“Maybe all of it. I had my reasons.”

“Was any of it true?”

Natalia considered the interactions and the history. “I did adore you,” she told him. “I did fancy you, too. Maybe because of The Other Guy, because you have all that power and you never wanted to use it.”

“I’m the guy who can win the fight, but I don’t want to be in the fight?” It was a close quote to what she’d said at the party before Ultron interrupted them.

“Yes,” she said.

“You still shoved me off that cliff.”

She nodded. “Because we—because I needed The Other Guy. The fight wasn’t over. I couldn’t leave. If we hadn’t been there, maybe the Avengers didn’t win and we would have died anyway.”

He frowned.

“Is that why he left?”

Bruce fidgeted, then spread his hands as he sighed. “I don’t know why he left, Nat. We’re not close, The Other Guy and me. He pretty much hates me.”

“Could be because you hate him,” she said. “He’s not so bad, you know.”

With a snort, Bruce shook his head. “He hurt you.”

“You hurt me, too. Monsters aren’t the only ones who inflict pain or fear.” The path they followed, that wasn’t really a path, followed the lazy sprawl of the lake. “I told you, you weren’t the only monster in the group.”

“I don’t think the fact you can’t have children makes you a monster.”

She almost laughed, but the chuckle she released carried no humor. “That’s what you got out of that conversation?”

“I thought that’s what you meant.”

Shaking her head, she lifted her gaze toward where the blue sky seemed to kiss the land. As different as Wakanda was, it reminded her of the peacefulness in Montana. Of long walks through the trees—though granted, she wasn’t in the trees right now. She really was wading through the weeds.

“If that’s not what you meant,” Bruce said. “What did you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said.

“It might…” Bruce caught her arm and she paused as he stared at her. “It could matter a lot.”

Putting her hand over his, she gently lifted his fingers off of her. “You were gone for a long time, I moved on.”

Disappointment, not surprise filtered through his eyes. “So you’re really with Tony now?”

“It doesn’t really matter who I’m with or not,” she answered. “I’m not defined by the person or persons I choose to spend my time with. We were friends Bruce, I wanted something more. You didn’t—then you did. Then I shoved you off a cliff. We can be friends, but we won’t be anything more than that.”

“Probably for the best,” Bruce said slowly. “I don’t know why I thought… it doesn’t matter.”

He paced away a couple of steps and looked at the lake.

“For what it’s worth… I know Ross went after you because of me. Because of The Other Guy.”

Folding her arms, she shrugged. “I pissed him off plenty on my own. But he’s not going to be a problem for you anymore, Bruce.”

A little nod. “Maybe. Maybe I have other problems.”

“You also have friends, we’re not so bad at the problems.”

His laughter carried even less humor than hers had earlier. “Are we really friends?” He twisted to face her. “You and me? Me and Tony? Tony doesn’t want me anywhere around you. I get it—I’d probably not want someone like me around Betty. Wait, I didn’t want me around Betty. It’s why I left her. Course, Tony doesn’t seem to mind the fact the Steve and Barnes smell like you…” A flash of green danced over his eyes. “So maybe it’s just certain monsters he doesn’t want around.”

“I’m not going to pretend to know what it is you’re talking about with Tony. He did right by you, he was your friend, he protected you and he shielded you and then you disappeared on all of us. If you want to throw yourself a pity party, feel free to set the table for one. We’ve been here, Bruce. And when I wasn’t or Steve wasn’t,  _ Tony _ was. If you needed his help, all you had to do was ask.”

“You make it sound simple,” he muttered.

“It is what it is.” Spreading her hands, Natalia blew out a breath. “Ask yourself, why didn’t you call? Then understand, we looked for you.  _ I _ looked for you. We found the quinjet in the Indian Ocean, but no sign of you. No sign of you anywhere.”

He ducked his head, his shoulders that had been tight and defensively slumped. “I didn’t want to come back,” he admitted. “ _ I _ didn’t want to be needed for a code green, I just wanted…to be normal. But I don’t think I’ve ever been normal.”

“Normalcy is highly overrated. So if you didn’t want to come back, why are you back now?”

“I don’t know,” he turned from the lake, genuine distress in his eyes. “That’s the problem, Nat. I was working with a guy to get it under control, to not need The Other Guy to come out. I told you my secret—I’m always angry. But he was teaching me to compartmentalize my emotions, to create a wall between me and The Other Guy. I could see a news story and not get pissed off. I could deal with some jerk in a market and not have to bite my tongue because I didn’t have to get away from him anymore. I wasn’t going to be a threat.”

Compartmentalizing.

“The guy said he knew you—said Fury sent him. Just wanted to know I was all right. That if I wanted to stay off the grid, he’d make it happen. You used to do that, right?”

“Yes,” she said.

“I knew it,” Bruce exclaimed and paced toward her hands wide. “You would clean up my messes. Distract the law enforcement, get me clear exits.”

“I was your SHIELD shadow, Nick tasked me to make sure Ross didn’t find you. Most of the time, you didn’t need my help.”

“But that’s how you found me in India.” It wasn’t a question.

“I always knew where you were. It was also why they sent me to get you. Trusting me to seduce you into helping.”

“And you did that, too, but it wasn’t about sex,” he said, raking a hand through his hair.

“No, the fastest way to engage you is to stimulate your mind, to present you with a problem to solve. The more complex, the better.”

“Like finding an impossible to find object.” His tone turned droll.

She lifted her shoulders. “I said I’d persuade you. Not my fault you assumed sex was the tool I’d use.”

A faint smirk curled his lips. “Touché, Natasha. Touché.”

“Tell me about your friend, the one who knows me.”

He sighed. “I’m beginning to think that was lies.”

“Maybe, but the best lies always have an element of truth. They’re far more convincing and easier to remember.”

“His name is Lev—and that’s just what he told me to call him. I don’t remember the rest of his name.” He held up a hand as though to ward off her scolding. “Yeah, I’m getting the idea it was stupid, but I didn’t really think the guy would stick around or become a friend.”

“So you think he played you?” Head canted, she waited him out as Bruce raked his hands through his hair and then held them out like he wanted to catch something.

“I don’t know. I’m missing time. I was in Madagascar for a long time. I went to Tibet. I worked on meditation and mental discipline. He worked with me on a lot of these…there were others…” The last he said slowly, a puzzled expression settling on his face. “Another doctor, I think. Rick? Roberts…Richard…”

“Richardson?” She rather hoped not.

“Yeah, he was in Tibet for a while. Said he was working with Lev, too. We didn’t see each other that much, but he would help sometimes. Build boxes, create safe spaces for storage…”

Natalia held up a hand stifling his next words. “Bruce…what did Lev look like?”

“Big guy—6’2, maybe. Um, kind of square jaw, looked like he was in good shape. Pretty nondescript. Kind of like most of the SHIELD security agents I saw on the helicarrier.”

“Hair color?”

The fact he had to think about it was a cause for concern. Bruce was a man who noticed details, he couldn’t help himself. “I…don’t. Blond, maybe?” He frowned. “It’s been a while.”

“Has it been a while or are you hitting a wall when you try to think of what he looks like?” The fact Richardson had been there suggested code word triggers. Had they been trying to control The Other Guy through Bruce?

“It’s kind of blank,” he admitted with a grimace.

“Then you were probably tampered with,” she told him. His eyes went almost pure green, but his skin tone didn’t shift.

“What?”

“Richardson, if he is the same man and I’m not saying he is, was a SHIELD psychologist back in the day. Turns out he was also Hydra.”

The green in his eyes held firm and Natalia kept calm. Peter was quite a distance away, barely visible at the crest of the hill and they had the lake between them. The air around them stayed relatively cool and quiet save for the ripples of the water.

“And?” His voice was almost a growl.

“If you can’t remember and you’re running into walls—then it’s possible they created conditioned responses. It’s cognitive training, your investment in not transforming gave them an opening and may have made you more compliant.”

Disbelief and rage vied for supremacy on his face and he twisted away from her and then paced back. “Did you do something like that to me?” And that came out an accusation.

“No,” she said evenly. The calm she embraced at the moment might be manufactured but they were both better off with her showing no fear even if Bruce seemed on the verge of tipping over the edge. “I worked with The Other Guy to trust me. It wouldn’t have worked if he didn’t like me on some level.” If Bruce hadn’t liked her, though they seemed to possess distinct personalities. “I said I would persuade you, Bruce, not condition you.”

His hands clenched into fists, the knuckles white not green and he sucked in a deep breath and then blew it out. “Is there a way to check?” The guttural nature of his voice wasn’t much of an improvement over the growl.

“To whether you have code words? Without knowing what the words are…”

“Could you figure it out?”

“Maybe,” she said, lifting her shoulders. “Bruce it would take—a lot to figure it out from nothing. You’d have to think back to every conversation, every interaction. Code words can be related to what you were doing at the time to something that has meaning, something that would trigger a memory, something relaxing. Like Betty.”

“Betty?” His voice calmed a fraction. “Why Betty?”

“Because you loved her and there was a time of your life where she soothed you and you probably reflect on it and want to go back to it—before the tests and the experiment.”

The green faded from his eyes and his shoulders slumped. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Amidst her own personal storm, a drop of sympathy fell for him. “I can’t promise you anything Bruce, you may not ever know them. It may be up to us to find the people who did it. It also means you need to avoid any contact where they might be able to trigger you into obedience. I can have pictures sent of Richardson. That would be a first step.”

“Well,” he said. “I already talked to T’Challa about staying on here for a while. Wasn’t sure about the reception in New York.” He glanced past her and he frowned. “What is going on with Barnes, Nat?”

“His name is James,” she said simply. “And he is very dear to me.”

“He tried to  _ kill _ you,” he held two fingers together, measuring a very small distance. “Or do you not remember that?”

“Don’t be an ass,” she said simply. “I tried to kill him. We got over it.”

Bruce stared at her. “Aren’t you the same woman who said Steve was on a fool’s errand hunting for him?”

“Yes,” she said. “And he proved me wrong. Leave James alone, Bruce. He’s no threat to me.”

He snorted. “Do you even know who you’re seeing?”

“Do you even recall what it was like when you weren’t a jackass?”

Teeth clicking together, Bruce winced. “I deserved that.”

“Yes,” she told him. “You did.”

Exhaling, Bruce rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m really sorry. I know I tried to say it earlier and then it might have gotten lost or maybe I just thought it and didn’t say it at all. You were in trouble—I saw it on the news. Hard to miss even when I was trying to avoid it. You were in trouble and I didn’t come.”

“Other people did,” she said. “I’m all right. You need to work on you. I get that. Oddly—maybe even more now than I did before.”

“Yeah?”

She inclined her head. “Yeah.” Squaring her shoulders, she added, “And in the interests of taking care of me, I’m going to go catch up with Peter so he doesn’t worry any more than he already has been.” Particularly since he was heading down the hill.

“You might have company,” Bruce said, then lifted his chin and she turned. Steve and James were heading toward them, moving steadily but not racing. “I think that’s my cue to go.”

Facing him again, she said, “I’ll try to find them. See what they were up to. But don’t be a stranger, all right?”

He hesitated and then held out his arm and it was awkward as he reached forward. Natalia gave him a hug and he kissed her cheek.

“I’m sorry, Nat,” he whispered. “The Other Guy shouldn’t have left.”

“He did what he had to do,” she told him, patting his shoulders as she stepped back. “I’m really all right. I’m where I need to be.”

“And you’ve moved on.” It wasn’t a question. “Well, I don’t know how that all works, but good luck with them and with the kid. Take care of yourself.”

She smiled. “You too.”

“Bye.” He gave a little wave and then set off. She tracked his progress as James and Steve neared him. “Cap,” he greeted Steve, who paused to speak to him but James went straight past him on a direct course for her. Peter was already jogging to get back to where she was.

“Natalia,” James said, his gaze sweeping over her as he clasped her arms.

“I’m all right, he wanted to talk—and I might have more information for the team about where he’s been and what he’s been doing.”

Impatience filtered through his eyes. Impatience and affection. “You make me crazy, Doll.”

The corners of her mouth lifted. “I know.”

When he pulled her to him, she curled against his chest and she closed her eyes. It wasn’t long before Peter would be there.

“Fair warning,” she murmured. “Peter wants to call me Mom.”

James stilled, spreading his hand against her back. “How does that make you feel?”

“Like crying,” she admitted. “And wonderful at the same time.”

“So not a bad thing?” He checked and she rubbed her cheek to his chest.

“No, not a bad thing at all.”

“Good,” he murmured, squeezing her against him. The strength in his embrace relaxed what tension the encounter with Bruce had threaded through her muscles.

“Are you four done discussing what’s to be done with the problem of Natalia?”

He snorted. “Not a problem, but yes, we got our plans squared away.”

“Good,” she echoed his earlier tone.

“Should I begin counting again or are you not ready for that?”

Warmth spread out, a little heat to chase away the chill. They had all done that for her, quieted the storm and let the light into the darkness. The waves were still coming, sometimes relentless, sometimes just dragging. But they were still there. “Not yet,” she whispered. “Soon, I hope.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

“Hey,” Peter called. “Everything all right?”

Natalia pulled herself together and leaned back. She met James’ pale gaze, then winked. “Everything’s fine, Petya. I think we’re good to finish our walk unless Steve and James have somewhere else for us to be.”

“Nope,” Steve said as he joined them. Bruce was gone, disappeared along the path back to the palace. “A walk sounds nice.”

“Cool, there’s actually something worth seeing over the hill, Mom.” He looked so pleased with himself when he said it and Steve gave a little start, but when she threaded her fingers with his, he relaxed a fraction. “And before you say it, I’m still going to call you Steve and Bucky for now if that’s okay.” Peter focused more on James than Steve. “But I asked Natasha about Mom and she said it was fine.”

“Call me what you want, Pal,” James told him as he caught Natalia’s free hand in his. “I’m all right with it.”

“Steve is fine,” Steve assured him. “So—what’s over the hill?”

“Oh, it’s cool…” Peter started ahead.

“Everything all right with Bruce, Angel?” Steve murmured.

“It’s fine, I’ll fill you in later?”

He nodded once, sharing a glance with James before they set off after Peter. “And you’re okay with the mom thing?”

“Yeah,” she said, squeezing his hand. Peter threw a look back them over his shoulder and she could almost read the  _ adults _ groan because they were taking too long. “I’m really okay with that. Better than.” 

~~~

New York was bone-chilling cold when they returned and while snow was still on the ground, the sun was shining. Stephen brought them through from Wakanda and offered to send Peter back to his place with May. Tony had apparently taken care of the phone call.

“Can I come back on the weekend? Or even after school? Soon as I’m caught up?”

“Absolutely,” Natalia told him. “I’ll be here.”

He gave her another hug and she ruffled his hair. “I’m going to bring you pictures,” he whispered. “I gotta find them, but I’ll bring them.”

She smiled.

“Give us a head’s up, Pal. Might be up at the Compound,” James told him.

“And call May before you have Stephen send you through,” Natalia warned. “The last thing you want to do is startle her.”

“Ooh,” he said, making a face. “Good point.”

“Thanks for the help, Pete,” Tony told him and Peter shot him a grin. The patient impatience on Stephen’s face amused her. The fact Tony’s tree was still up, in fact, all of Christmas was still draped around the place. There were even presents that had been left open when they’d left. Two weeks before? It would be three before long.

“I’ll call,” Peter said. “And text. You know, you should probably not follow my social media accounts.”

She flicked her fingers. “Go home, Petya. We’ll see you soon.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll see you.” Then Stephen had the portal open and Peter hesitated and then darted to Wanda and gave her a quick kiss before he hopped through.

After he snapped it closed, Stephen turned to Natalia.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Mom?” he asked with the barest raise of eyebrows. She’d gotten similar reactions from everyone except Tony. He’d just grinned.

“Do you have a problem with it?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t.” Then the sorcerer glanced toward Clint and Wanda. “You two are ready to return to the Compound?”

“Yes,” Clint said, a bag over his shoulder. “Gonna grab some stuff and borrow a quinjet. Remember what I said, no emergencies.” The last he said with a pointed look at her before he looked at Steve, then James and finally Tony.

“We’ll be fine, Clint. Go see your family,” James said with a half-smile. “Enjoy them. Good luck.”

Clint made a fist and tapped it to his heart before he looked at her. “Go,” she said before he could open his mouth. “Remember—use your tongue if you want something.”

There was a moment of silence when Stephen rolled his eyes and then had a portal open and Clint grinned, but he was already striding through it. Wanda paused though to look at Stephen. “When did you want to begin?”

“This weekend will be fine. Get some rest. I will send a portal for you when we’re ready to start.”

“Thank you.” Wanda cast a glance back at her. “I’ll call you, too?”

“Absolutely.”

Then Wanda went through and the portal closed leaving Stephen with the four of them. He looked at his cloak hovering next to where she perched leaning against the back of the sofa. “Staying or going?”

The cloak shifted to be next to her.

“Apparently, Natasha, you have well and truly absconded with it.”

Raising her hands, Natalia said, “I’m sure he’s just fussing like the rest of you. As soon as you clear me back for the field, he’ll go back and if Stephen needs you…” She glanced at the cloak. “You’ll go to him right?”

It didn’t move or otherwise indicate a choice.

“It’s fine,” Stephen said. “Just let me know if it behaves—out of character.”

Natalia wasn’t the only one raising her brows.

But he already had another portal open. “And I’ll see you next week for a check-up. Remember what I said about avoiding injuries…” He didn’t wait for the response before the portal shut again.

“You know,” she said aloud. “That’s still weird.”

“And unnerving,” Steve added.

“More than a little invasive,” Tony mused.

“But very cool,” James summarized.

“Well, I am going to…” But before she could finish, James caught her arm.

“Stay right here,” he said, though his tone was more of a request than a command. “Friday, is everything packed and ready?”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes. The bags are already loaded on the quinjet. Everything is prepared.”

“Quinjet?” Natalia frowned and Steve seemed surprised, too.

“Yes,” James said, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. “You asked me to get out of here and go away for a bit and that’s what we’re doing.”

“But Peter…”

“Friday, you have the protocol in place?”

“I do, Sergeant Barnes. We will take care of everything.”

“It will be fine, Doll. Trust me.”

She glanced at Steve and then back at James. “All right.”

He grinned. “I really like you cooperative, how long before you start smacking me back down Kotyonok?”

The bland look she gave him must have worked because his smile grew.

“Excellent…”

“All right,” Tony said. “You kids be good.”

“Get on the quinjet,” James told him.

“I would have thought…” Tony paused as James fixed him with a look. Now, Natalia was genuinely curious.

“Stevie, make sure Tony gets aboard.” Then James held out his hand to her.

“Um…” Tony paused and glanced at all of them, Steve shrugged.

“Hey, you heard him. I’m to make sure you get on board.”

She didn’t get to hear the rest of it as James headed for the doors. Snagging her coat from where it waited, he held it up for her and she slid it on. He looked… almost happy.

“You did something,” she said slowly.

“I did,” he admitted. “And we’re going there now. You’re going to stop trying to pry it out of me and let me surprise you like I want.”

“I am?” She straightened her collar. The sadness lurking in her, the tangle of emotion that rushed up still and had her crying most nights receded a little at the challenge in his eyes. For the last few days, his sadness had been nearly the perfect companion to her own. Grief, it seemed, liked to have company.

“Yes, you are,” he murmured, then brushed a kiss to her lips. “Let’s go,” he snapped to Tony and Steve. “I want to get there while we still have daylight.”

When Tony looked at her, she said, “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“Fine,” he said. “Just remember… you invited me.”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a chuckle. “He did.” Then he winked at her as Tony wagged a finger in her direction.

“Don’t you get any ideas, Red. I can see you now, already plotting.”

“Maybe,” she chuckled. Behind them, the cloak stood a silent sentry until it leaned a little to the side as though looking at her. She gave a little jerk with her head and it rushed over to settle on her shoulders.

“Yep, bring the cloak, bring the genius, bring the punk, but let’s move it…”

“You know,” Natalia said. “I’m beginning to remember why you were a sergeant.”

James snorted. “That’s seven.”

And she smiled. Outside, the cold air rushed against her face and the quinjet sat with the rear ramp open and the engines humming.

She glanced east. She couldn’t see the Brooklyn Bridge from here, but she was back.

She was home.

When James caught her hand and they were striding up the ramp, she leaned against his arm.

Finally, they were all home.

“Are we there yet?” Tony called before the ramp even closed and Natalia laughed as Steve groaned. “I told you to remember, he invited me.”

“I did,” James said as he pressed a kiss to Natalia’s hand. “Go sit with Stevie.”

“I don’t even get to see where we’re going?”

“No,” he retorted, then gave her a little nudge.

Dropping onto the bench seat between Steve and Tony, she raised her brows. “Well?”

“I have no idea,” Steve said. “He didn’t read me in.”

Tony leaned his head back and just smiled.

Narrowing her eyes, she said, “You know.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Red.”

Folding her arms, she leaned her head against Steve’s shoulder. “Hmmm…”

A few minutes later, Tony called, “Are we there yet, you know,  _ now _ ?”

James’ aggrieved sigh made Natalia giggle and that set Steve off laughing and Tony just kept right on smirking.

Wherever they were going, she was only certain of one thing… it’d be fun.

She’d be home.

And today, that was enough.

Maybe she didn’t believe in skazka, but she did in sem’ya.

That was more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we end this part of the story. I can't believe it's been 76 chapters and this part began back in September. I had more delays with this one than the others, but it was a long and winding journey to find Mary and to give her back to James and Natalia in some form. From recovering after the Mandarin to Christmas to the cabin and finally to Wakanda, so many pieces of the story fell into place. 
> 
> But never fear, there is more to the journey to come and so many other questions to answer. I bet you thought I forgot some of them, but I haven't. Lost Not Forgotten was always about finding Mary. Where we go next... well, you'll have to wait and see. Now I'm taking a bit of a break to meet other deadlines, but I'll be back in the new year, but you may have to be patient for a bit. Don't forget to subscribe to me or to the series or to me so you don't miss what's coming up next.
> 
> Finally, thank all of you for making the last 9 months a blast to play in this world. Your comments have buoyed me, made me laugh, had me scratching my head while perplexed, and in general lifted me up. My beta reader has pushed and helped to hone, we still catch typos here and there, I am constantly going back and tweaking when I check back on earlier parts and chapters. But at the end of the day, it's always about the story and these characters.
> 
> What began as a passion project to tell the one story they'd never told in the MCU became a way to explore all the layers of these characters I felt had gotten short shrift and to channel my grief after Endgame. While I've never watched the movie again and may never let myself see it, I've finally begun to make my peace because my Nat is still alive and well and there's a multiverse where even the littlest change can make all the difference. After 1.9 million words, I think I am the change I want to see in this world!
> 
> Have a blessed New Year!


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